Memorable stuff from your formative years

Cold mornings as a kid in the early 1980s (tbf, we had some cold snaps then). The whole road would resound to the attempts of blokes attempting to start gems like the Cortina and Avenger.
Us kids would all be sent out to push start dad’s car to get him away to work. My youngest brother was about four or five (and we couldn’t stop him anyway) and baby sis was exempt as she had only just started walking.
Certainly gave a bracing start to day prior to the trudge to school. If it had snowed, the trudge to school suddenly got lots more fun.

Kids today don’t know they’re born re cars.
They usually start on the button & they get everything thrown in now. We had to spec everything. Even a N/S mirror was extra.
I had a Fiesta Popular plus. The ‘plus’ was a clock, apparently. The windscreen washers were a squirty pedal thing that you operated with your left foot.
Bloody kids!
 
the attempts of blokes attempting to start gems like the Cortina and Avenger.
Mate of mine had a rather nice, sporty Citroen in the mid-1970s. Kinda baby Citroen DS.. It was a dream to ride in (luvverly suspension, excellent aerodynamics), but the slightest hint of mist on a morning in Spring or Autumn and it would just give a gallic shrug and refuse to soldier. . . . . :-(
 
Being taught by my Mum how to make a proper pot of tea.
  1. Warm the pot
  2. A spoonful of tea for each person, plus one for the pot
  3. Add freshly boiling water
  4. Wait

Enjoy
I learned from an old friend who lived opposite. When I was very young, being turfed out to play, when I grew thirsty it was off to see dear old Mattie. Best tea pot in the village.
I was on excellent terms with the older people in my street; I suppose it explains where my career ended up.
 

Joker62

ADC
Book Reviewer
Financial year, presumably, since I was born on Paddy's Day in that same year, and mine ends in D - presumably making March the last month of the 4th quarter of FY 1954-55.

Or those divs in National Insurance didn't know their aphabelt from their eblow.
I was born in 62, NI number ends in 30D.
 

tiv

LE
Cold mornings as a kid in the early 1980s (tbf, we had some cold snaps then). The whole road would resound to the attempts of blokes attempting to start gems like the Cortina and Avenger.
Us kids would all be sent out to push start dad’s car to get him away to work. My youngest brother was about four or five (and we couldn’t stop him anyway) and baby sis was exempt as she had only just started walking.
Certainly gave a bracing start to day prior to the trudge to school. If it had snowed, the trudge to school suddenly got lots more fun.
My first car was an A40 Mk 1 that had a starting handle. It was always good about starting except being an apprentice the battery was a bit naff so that starting handle saw some use. It was a bit flimsy though so I made one out of something more substantial with a rotating sleeve hand grip and I've still got it in the garage somewhere. Sold the car to a friend for his wife in the early 70's and it remained a good starterto the end of it's days
 
We had Corona delivered. One xmas when I was 7 or 8, I wanted Cherryade, but none left. I was given a glass of lemonade with a dash of Port to colour it. All good. An our later, I was found in the pantry having downed half a pint of port with a lemonade top. Quite a bit giggly and out of it for the rest of the day and set a dangerous precedent. Loved Port ever after.
Pop where I grew up (Staffs) was Corona in the proper screw-top glass bottles. I recall the pop van had gone, but the corner shop and pub round the corner still used them.
When I was about 14, I read somewhere the instructions for making ginger beer.
A receptacle like a jam jar is used to add ginger powder, sugar and a bit of yeast and water. Leave a day or two on the windowsill with an occasional shake, then add more ginger and sugar every day for a week. Add a bit more water if necessary so the beast remains liquid, and keep warm.
After a while, strain into a pan, add lemon juice and water, heat, then cool. Place into the Corona bottles with a teaspoon of sugar.
The lump of sludge left in the straining cloth can be halved and placed back in the jar. Add a bit more water, a bit of sugar, and it’s off again.
Anyway, me and a few mates got a bit good at this. It is mildly alcoholic, we were making our own booze at 15, but as we were not out causing bother, it was largely tolerated. Our respective fathers found it fairly amusing, a mother or two raised an eyebrow, and all was fairly cool.
One thing to remember about the ginger beer is to vent the bottle as it settles and ferments in the bottle for a week or so. That’s why we favoured the Corona bottle.
I made a batch and went on a Scout camp. And came back to my bedroom full of glass shards, some of which had embedded themselves into the wall.
My dad was at first angry, but then started to laugh. The explosions woke the house up. If I’d have been in bed, that could have hurt.
Luckily we were just about old enough to get in to pubs, so we moved on from making hooch.
Moral? Do not trust Corona bottles.
 

Joker62

ADC
Book Reviewer
Mate of mine had a rather nice, sporty Citroen in the mid-1970s. Kinda baby Citroen DS.. It was a dream to ride in (luvverly suspension, excellent aerodynamics), but the slightest hint of mist on a morning in Spring or Autumn and it would just give a gallic shrug and refuse to soldier. . . . . :-(
One of these?
1614894758126.png

or this?
Citroen_SM_(14521154082).jpg
 
Just reminded me of hours making "slippy curries" (I've no idea why we called them that either) where a gaggle of kids would trample the snow flat on any downhill bit of pavement until it turned into a solid sheet of ice. Then spend all day sliding down it.
Then when you we bollocked for being late to school, telling the dep head (always the ex-Gestapo discipline person) that you had to take extra care due to the fact irresponsible children before you had made passable paths into lethal skid pans.
 

PFGEN

GCM
Being taught by my Mum how to make a proper pot of tea.
  1. Warm the pot
  2. A spoonful of tea for each person, plus one for the pot
  3. Add freshly boiling water
  4. Wait

Enjoy

The tea ceremony. Dad was in charge of that. Woe betide anybody who didn't warm the pot first or leave to infuse for at least 8-10 minutes with the tea cosy on. Milk after tea; break that rule at your peril.

He never got on with MiL as she made tea in a furrin way. Boil water put in a cup and wave teabag over the top. She did endure his endless lessons before both sides gave up in order to keep the peace.
 
I was born in 62, NI number ends in 30D.
NI numbers are groups allocated variously. Why people think they mean anything is beyond me. The U.K. also has lots of temporary numbers, falsely allocated(or duplicate numbers) and numbers allocated to immigrants. None of which mean a thing.
@Joker62 not aimed at you, just an observation.
 
The tea ceremony. Dad was in charge of that. Woe betide anybody who didn't warm the pot first or leave to infuse for at least 8-10 minutes with the tea cosy on. Milk after tea; break that rule at your peril.

He never got on with MiL as she made tea in a furrin way. Boil water put in a cup and wave teabag over the top. She did endure his endless lessons before both sides gave up in order to keep the peace.
Dad in charge of tea? Well, I never. IME, the tea pot was always made by mum/mom (for my West Midlands rellies). Whether mum poured, or not, is another matter.
 
I was born in 62, NI number ends in 30D.
Like me - 4th quarter of that fiscal/financial year.

If it helps (and there's at least one other made this point already), my DoB was 1955, 17th March.

The last three characters of my NI No. are 78D

By 1978, I was on my third stint in Norn Iron.
 
I'm surprised anyone could make a living out of a shop like that.
Tommy Cooper's brother did well in that line.

I bought (I think) a coupla sets of clockwork dentures from his emporium, back in the day.

Deployed skilfully, with good comic timing, in that silent post-Royle-Toast-moment at a Ladies' night they were fvcking devastating ;-)

If folks don't find that funny today, they need to extract their collective crania from their collective rectum, and get on with Life and all its bawdy, ribald potential.
 

PFGEN

GCM
Dad in charge of tea? Well, I never. IME, the tea pot was always made by mum/mom (for my West Midlands rellies). Whether mum poured, or not, is another matter.

No Dad was in charge of tea protocol. Mum or us kids did the work. At meal times he'd request more tea and mum would have to stop whatever she was doing to provide said cuppa. They both drank the stuff in the same way the rest of us breath. On a visit to me they managed to break an electric kettle in the space of two weeks as it was never off the boil. The thing just gave up and fell apart out of sheer exhaustion.

Oh and don't even think about filling the likes of a Norgie. That wouldn't be fresh. Bear in mind this is the same person who would happily microwave a cup of coffee that was a day old!
 
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