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My Uncle Fred ~ RIP


Guest Ditch_Shitter

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Guest Ditch_Shitter

My Uncle Fred died, beggining of this month. He's been buried now and there was nothing I could do about any of it.

 

But, being as how I'm pretty much out of touch with just about anyone I've ever known all my life and this place is where I now operate, I figured this would be where I'd pay my respects. So, if ye'll fogive me? I just want to get this off my chest, as it were. Mark a tree for the guy.

 

Uncle Fred was never 'given' the name Fred. That was his middle name but, in the weird way of families in those days, he came to be known as Fred ever more.

 

He was the one and true Son of my Mothers side and really Lived the Tradition, alough of the first generation born to kenner.

 

I honestly don't think he ever had a " Proper " job in his entire eighty two years. He was a " Totter " and collected scrap metal and, yes, he " Knocked " ~ but even then mainly just for scrap. I remember his daughter Julie, last time I met her, about forty years ago, reciting the breath taking speech he'd trained her in at the earliest age. It began with; " Any old ..... " and then just spilled out in such a list of 'Ally, Brass, Copper, Zinc, Alloy, Lead .....' Ye get the picture? Only young Julie could rattle the lot out like a bloody machine gun. Left my head reeling. Dare say, old as she must now be, she could still recite it.

 

Actually, one of my most enduring memories was when I asked him if he ever encoutered any old traps on his rounds. Gin traps. " Those old traps? " He said. " Blimey son, I once asked a mush if he had any old scrap and he asked me to come take a look at his garage. The bloody place was hung wall to wall, floor to ceilings with them Gin traps! All bloody sizes of 'em! " Obviously, beyond all hope by then, I still had to ask. " Well " He replied, " Sorry son; I just took 'em down the scrap yard and weighed the lot in! They was just so much Ferrous to me! " Never forgotten that.

 

I never remember seeing Uncle Fred without a 'Dicklo' round his neck. From my earliest till when I last saw him. Shouldn't wonder he was buried in one. So he should be. Hope they'll do the same for me.

 

Seems he had 'Prostate' towards the end. They had him in (and out?) of hospital, of course. Then they sent him home and he was really feeling quite chipper. 'That night' he ate a good meal. Complimented my Aunt on it. Said how he'd 'Enjoyed that'. She said she'd just ..... Turned around and there he was. Head back. Mouth open. Gone.

 

Lucky old b*stard. What a way to go, eh?

 

Well. There we are. That's sorted that out. I've remembered him as I might have done in a pub. As would have been the way. Over here it wouldn't have been the same. This is 'My Local' now. So I've remembered him here.

 

Please don't bother with the 'Condolances' bit. That's not the point of this. Man's dead and that's it. He didn't have a bad time. I feel no grief. Just to recognise one more passing of ..... of what? The way it used to be, I s'pose?

 

 

Cushti rorty, Uncle Fred.

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