Boots (my really comfortable, but not always watertight DMS) always seemed to be ok, but socks were wriggling away on their own.
I'd done nearly ten years when, on exercise, I got the pleasure of sitting in on a REME RD corporal giving the craftsmen a lesson on Fieldcraft.Hmmm.. Izal... only three sheets and use both sides!!
You forgot to add that the piece torn from the middle is folded and used to clean under the finger nails.I'd done nearly ten years when, on exercise, I got the pleasure of sitting in on a REME RD corporal giving the craftsmen a lesson on Fieldcraft.
How to use comfy bum.
Holds up a piece of Compo Izal. Folds in half, and again the other way. Nips off a small quadrant of paper on the double-folded corner and opens it back up, leaving a finger size hole in the centre of the comfy bum.
Shows holed comfy bum up for the craftsmen to see.
"Your comfy bum is ready to use."
Inserts middle finger through hole and makes.like he's sticking finger up bum. Pulls finger out from paper and wipes it on the surrounding paper as he does so.
"And that is how you use comfy bum."
The craftsmen gave him confused looks. I gave him a round of applause.
He was referring to REME craftsmen.You forgot to add that the piece torn from the middle is folded and used to clean under the finger nails.
Ah but the RD corporal was never going to be in any way artisan, so @ericferret was in fact absolutely correct in his assertion, and the RD corporal did, in fact say it, my memory having been jogged.He was referring to REME craftsmen.
Every one I'd seen had black oil/grease/graphite embedded under the fingernails, so a little piece of poo would be beneath their notice.
After watching the horrendous vision of Mrs Godzilla across the road leaving easter eggs out for her kiddies on Sunday morning (dressed in two piece pyjamas, open dressing gown and a pair of rabbit ears perched on her head) I started thinking back to easter as a young lad.Also memorable at Easter; "pace" eggs decorated with different coloured dyes. And egg "jarping", and egg rolling......
My Nan in Bristol used to get the misshapes from a local shop. I think it was the wool shop, so probably brought home by someone from the factoryDoubt it.
There was a Radio 4 prog (last year?) that looked at chocolate bars in the UK.
There's a few (like Kit Kat and Mars Bars) that have been around long enough for Pontius Pilate to have snacked on them, but they're barely numbered in double figures. The remainder - fly-by-nights, seldom enjoying a decade-long span on the shelves.
Does anyone else remember 5 Boys brand chocolate bars, or am I the oldest fvcker on here?
The hill in Dawsholm Park where I was taken to roll eggs at Easter is now covered in mature trees. That was a bit of a shock.After watching the horrendous vision of Mrs Godzilla across the road leaving easter eggs out for her kiddies on Sunday morning (dressed in two piece pyjamas, open dressing gown and a pair of rabbit ears perched on her head) I started thinking back to easter as a young lad.
A couple of days before I was handed two hard boiled eggs and a tin of water colour paints and told to paint them up as I fancied, once painted they were left to dry and then secreted away until Sunday morning. After church we got into the car and drove off to Starbank Park by the seafront in Granton (I could never work out why, it was completely the other side of the city) whereupon the egs were rolled down the hill until the shells cracked.
Then it was back in the car, picked up Granny on the way past and home for lunch (which for my old man was boiled egg sandwiches, I hated the things....)
But we were happy in those days!
Certainly do. Lots of Pathe News clips. I liked the war bits but post war was a bit boring for the sprog I was, I do recall a clip on the trials of a new rifle for the army where the effects on steel helmets were demonstrated.
One of my classmates father had served in the far east, would only go out after dark and on his own. Was the local water baillie, no one questioned it despite his wife running a small hotel. In the six years I knew the son I never met the dad.I'm sure school isn't what it used to be. I remember music lessons in primary school when, as a class, with the teacher playing the piano, we sang patriotic or folk songs. How else would I know the words 'Hearts of Oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men; we always are ready, Steady Boys Steady. We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again'? (In the west country we sang: '.. are are ships...are are men'). Then there was 'Bobby Shafto' and 'Boney was a warrior' etc. etc. Didn't mind the singing, but found the theory of crotchets and quavers (Ta tatty ta ta etc) almost killed off any appreciation of music. Did anyone else have to sit there reciting ta tatty ta ta?
We weren't ashamed of our Empire then and we always celebrated when former colonies gained independence, as if our job was done. Clearly remember Gold Coast becoming Ghana as a good thing. But we did hear scary tales about the Mau Mau. One of my mates' family went off to Australia for a tenner, I think. Our next door neighbour had been a PoW of the Japs and wouldn't eat rice. We all knew we had recently come out of a war against the Germans - rather than the Nazis, which is what the BBC would have you believe now. We played cowboys and indians without worrying about cultural appropriation. There was BBC and ITV and that was it.
Must be a sign of getting old - I remember more about then than about yesterday.
I certainly do. It ran for almost 30 years. In the early 60's, as a boy, I used to sit and watch it with my Dad, who would tell me about his wartime experiences as a teenager in the Midlands. If memory serves correct the presenter was a chap named Brian Inglis. I learned a lot about the war from that programme and my Dad's memories.