Childhood Stories Hunting/countryside Related

[byron 1,190]

dropping a single cooey on end and going off in a second world war blockhouse,,frightning..

dog knocking over a double twelve on a bailey bridge and going off,,luckily the other way..

digging a pit hole up the lotties ,,just big enough to take an old double hoss hair mattress, and covering with tin/soil,, with little cut outs to take them old long candles..

knicking a horse and riding it half way home from the nightclub..lol..........

lighting a stick of dynamite in the local club,,and putting it out with a shortened fuse..later to be used one frosty dawn on a iced up splash that teal were using..madness..

in the same club cranking open a twelve case and sticking the powder in the ashtray,,and us all watching/antisipating to the lad smoking the big flash a coming..lol....

shooting rabbits on a local holiday park on the shutdown period out of a motor bike and sidecar..

 

 

 

 

halcyon days................

lol........

[albert64 1,882]

Also any of you lads ever make Dutch arrows and play chicken with them ??? If there was a gang of kids out it was like a scene from 300 with the sky blacking out with Dutch arrows lol ..........

 

we called them french arrows, 6" nail and a cane and some string feck could they fly

we used to nick the school dinner knives and grind the handle sharp and to a point

and play chicken with those too, then we;d go on the gollies across the road and

get the squirrels theres still to this day dinner knives stuck in the trees

we used to play chicken on the diesel line, we'd take the stones out from between the sleepers and

get in and let the train go over us, we always played on the railway as kids

i'd strangle my lad if he went anywhere near one

[brambles 3,307]

Remember one night along with a mate off here and his old fella we were mooching along a local salmon river, we dropped into a local hotel till closing time till it was time to go and pick up our rewards, going back along the river bank around 1.30 in the morning we heard voices, a tent had been pitched and 2 fellas bollock naked came out the tent and ran fifty yards up the bank and started splashing around, now you've heard the saying cut a stick when you see it, thats what we did, we crossed the river stole. their tent, clothes and shoes, we only left them their bikes, always remember there was a rucanor sports bag in the tent with a family size bag of opal fruits and a scud book in it, happy days lol, always wondered how those two got home and explained it

[NEWKID 27,622]

My old man made me a bow and arrows one day, it was a cracker, tensioned bamboo bow with twine, and arrows made from those thin garden sticks, with a little lead wire a couple of inches from the tip and flights...

I was told in no uncertain terms " do not fire it at anyone" " no Dad" ... An 8 year old set loose with a weapon lol, over the garden fence I spot my next door neighbour, he was the same age as me and a perfect target.... My one and only shot with that bow and arrow hit it's intended target in the back, the following scream brought both my dad and his mum running out of the houses.... I don't know what hurt more the beating or watching my beloved bow being broken over my Dads leg lol...

[NEWKID 27,622]

 

Also any of you lads ever make Dutch arrows and play chicken with them ??? If there was a gang of kids out it was like a scene from 300 with the sky blacking out with Dutch arrows lol ..........

we called them french arrows, 6" nail and a cane and some string feck could they fly

we used to nick the school dinner knives and grind the handle sharp and to a point

and play chicken with those too, then we;d go on the gollies across the road and

get the squirrels theres still to this day dinner knives stuck in the trees

we used to play chicken on the diesel line, we'd take the stones out from between the sleepers and

get in and let the train go over us, we always played on the railway as kids

i'd strangle my lad if he went anywhere near one

Those arrows were brilliant, me and my brother were talking about them the other day, the distance they would go when you got it right was unbelievable...

[Bosun11 537]

I'm a city lad, with an inbuilt passion for the countryside. Fortunately for me, the arrival of a whippet/greyhound pup, when I was about 7 years old, opened up that 'other' world better than anything could, but it was only at weekends that we could really get out an go!

 

I met John when I was about 12, my dad worked on a big landfill site outside the city, Sundays meant no bosses, so I could go, my trusty mutt too, and follow the ratters and other hunters who spent weekends at this mecca, just on the fringe of Altcar estate. John was local, older than me by a year and we met as he walked back off the Altcar fields, huge hare in hand and stunning slate grey Deerhoundy lurcher at his side. Oh boy, Jet was some looker and although all things look a bit more special through the eyes of a kid I'd still say Jet still is the best example of type I've ever seen.

 

We hit it off and became mates and I met some of the other local lads that John hunted with too. Biff (he was a good boxer) was one, one of the best, a good dog man and hunter. Now John was the instigator, maybe the leader of our usual trio, though we never thought of him that way but he was always the one with the idea, the plan and although they were never quite as good as he painted, we were never disappointed by his 'sometimes' hair-brained crazy ideas, they were always bloody good fun! They lived on the doorstep, I only made weekends.

 

So one Sunday when we'd walked and hunted all day and were sat down for a rest John said we should bring our air guns with us the next week. I was never into guns and never thought they were either, so this better be worth it and I asked why. So john explained about the barn, a big old barn that was chock full of pigeons and we could sneak up on it and nail 'em through the various windows and gaps... "We should get loads.." But we needed a couple more lads...

 

So the following week seen me turning over the shed in our back yard to dig out the ancient Diana pistol which was my gun... Now this gun, was it shite and only just bettered a Gat, I was a bit worried about getting stick but it was all I had and would have to do!

Sunday came an I stuffed the gun in my rucksack below my nets an butties, so me Dad wouldn't see, though he'd got me it ('Tip-Brand', found on the tip!) it could never leave the house. So we met up, me John an Biff, plus two other lads, one with a ok looking rifle and the other with a Gat (thank feck for that!!), Biff with a Webley Hurricane and I just took it John had his gun, like mine, in his bag. So off we marched, to the old barn, to do a deed, about a mile away.

 

When it was in view, John stopped us all, the 'plan' was, we sneak up, find one of the numerous gaps in the boarded windows and doors, take aim and on Johns signal, fire..!!!

We fanned out, me an Biff went round the back, which was a bit crap cause of the nettles but we had a window each with loads of gaps and peered in. The light, filtering though such an old and worn place, from just about everywhere, showed up a building full of a long gone past, old tractors and farm implements poked out from rotted tarpaulins caked thick in bird shit and it was that amount of shit that made you look up to the rafters and see every inch covered by a pigeons.

I looked over at Biff at the next window, he was grinning as much as me, surely all we had to do was aim in the general direction to hit one, who knows, we might hit two!

We took aim and it wasn't long before the word 'fire' rang out and we did... The rush of wings was huge, the noise after the calm was massive an I stared to see amongst the frenzy if one was heading 'south' fast but in the madness it was just about impossible to see.

 

I was snapped out of my strain by my name being shouted and I ran to the call. Biff was now round the corner, looking up at the stone steps that ran up the gable of the barn, there was John, or someone that looked like John, going 'ape' with a tennis racquet in hand, twatting everything that came out of that barn at a million miles an hour, he stood in a cloud of feathers, dead birds, beaks, blood an snot, like some sort of wild man.... Laugh, I nearly pissed meself...!

 

See, we were only the spookers, just there to get them birds to fly out that door! Yer, if we nailed one (who knew? ) great but John had stashed that old tennis racquet earlier in the week, he knew what would get him numbers....

 

We were a good little team back then, for a good few years after too. Then Biff was killed... Take one leg off the stool an its gonna fall over... Good times though..

 

[NEWKID 27,622]

I'm a city lad, with an inbuilt passion for the countryside. Fortunately for me, the arrival of a whippet/greyhound pup, when I was about 7 years old, opened up that 'other' world better than anything could, but it was only at weekends that we could really get out an go!

 

I met John when I was about 12, my dad worked on a big landfill site outside the city, Sundays meant no bosses, so I could go, my trusty mutt too, and follow the ratters and other hunters who spent weekends at this mecca, just on the fringe of Altcar estate. John was local, older than me by a year and we met as he walked back off the Altcar fields, huge hare in hand and stunning slate grey Deerhoundy lurcher at his side. Oh boy, Jet was some looker and although all things look a bit more special through the eyes of a kid I'd still say Jet still is the best example of type I've ever seen.

 

We hit it off and became mates and I met some of the other local lads that John hunted with too. Biff (he was a good boxer) was one, one of the best, a good dog man and hunter. Now John was the instigator, maybe the leader of our usual trio, though we never thought of him that way but he was always the one with the idea, the plan and although they were never quite as good as he painted, we were never disappointed by his 'sometimes' hair-brained crazy ideas, they were always bloody good fun! They lived on the doorstep, I only made weekends.

 

So one Sunday when we'd walked and hunted all day and were sat down for a rest John said we should bring our air guns with us the next week. I was never into guns and never thought they were either, so this better be worth it and I asked why. So john explained about the barn, a big old barn that was chock full of pigeons and we could sneak up on it and nail 'em through the various windows and gaps... "We should get loads.." But we needed a couple more lads...

 

So the following week seen me turning over the shed in our back yard to dig out the ancient Diana pistol which was my gun... Now this gun, was it shite and only just bettered a Gat, I was a bit worried about getting stick but it was all I had and would have to do!

Sunday came an I stuffed the gun in my rucksack below my nets an butties, so me Dad wouldn't see, though he'd got me it ('Tip-Brand', found on the tip!) it could never leave the house. So we met up, me John an Biff, plus two other lads, one with a ok looking rifle and the other with a Gat (thank feck for that!!), Biff with a Webley Hurricane and I just took it John had his gun, like mine, in his bag. So off we marched, to the old barn, to do a deed, about a mile away.

 

When it was in view, John stopped us all, the 'plan' was, we sneak up, find one of the numerous gaps in the boarded windows and doors, take aim and on Johns signal, fire..!!!

We fanned out, me an Biff went round the back, which was a bit crap cause of the nettles but we had a window each with loads of gaps and peered in. The light, filtering though such an old and worn place, from just about everywhere, showed up a building full of a long gone past, old tractors and farm implements poked out from rotted tarpaulins caked thick in bird shit and it was that amount of shit that made you look up to the rafters and see every inch covered by a pigeons.

I looked over at Biff at the next window, he was grinning as much as me, surely all we had to do was aim in the general direction to hit one, who knows, we might hit two!

We took aim and it wasn't long before the word 'fire' rang out and we did... The rush of wings was huge, the noise after the calm was massive an I stared to see amongst the frenzy if one was heading 'south' fast but in the madness it was just about impossible to see.

 

I was snapped out of my strain by my name being shouted and I ran to the call. Biff was now round the corner, looking up at the stone steps that ran up the gable of the barn, there was John, or someone that looked like John, going 'ape' with a tennis racquet in hand, twatting everything that came out of that barn at a million miles an hour, he stood in a cloud of feathers, dead birds, beaks, blood an snot, like some sort of wild man.... Laugh, I nearly pissed meself...!

 

See, we were only the spookers, just there to get them birds to fly out that door! Yer, if we nailed one (who knew? ) great but John had stashed that old tennis racquet earlier in the week, he knew what would get him numbers....

 

We were a good little team back then, for a good few years after too. Then Biff was killed... Take one leg off the stool an its gonna fall over... Good times though..

 

Great story Bosun

[Malt 379]

My old man made me a bow and arrows one day, it was a cracker, tensioned bamboo bow with twine, and arrows made from those thin garden sticks, with a little lead wire a couple of inches from the tip and flights...

I was told in no uncertain terms " do not fire it at anyone" " no Dad" ... An 8 year old set loose with a weapon lol, over the garden fence I spot my next door neighbour, he was the same age as me and a perfect target.... My one and only shot with that bow and arrow hit it's intended target in the back, the following scream brought both my dad and his mum running out of the houses.... I don't know what hurt more the beating or watching my beloved bow being broken over my Dads leg lol...

 

We used to have great laugh with bows and arrows! Every now and again the estate where I lived was like it was full of red Indians with arrows flying everywhere! One of the best ones I made was from one of my old man's chimney cleaning rods out the shed, he weren't pleased when he came home and found out! My youngest brother broke his arm as a kid, falling off a rope swing that went out over a bank that some of the older kids made up the park. My old man climbed up the tree and took the rope, but The following morning it was back! That happened a few times, and in the end my dad got pissed off with climbing up this tree every morning on the way to work, so in the end he went up there on a windy night with his bow saw and the fecking whole tree was taken down!

 

Another time my dad was cleaning a few rabbits in the garden and he had an audience of my brothers and their mates stood there watching fascinated! One of the little lads who lived a few doors up went home and told his mum that he said something like 'Dai killied a rabbit, ripped its guts out and pulled its fur off!'

[Huan72 687]

One summer way back in the 80's i was on my way to Cornwall, crossing Dartmoor in a hired Ford Escort; we stopped for some sightseeing and my mum shouted out the normal "dont go too far" and on this occassion, I didnt!! Not far from the road were the bodies of dead sheep, a real messy job! We took some photos and when we got back had the film developed at Boots. All the family shots in looe/Polperro etc came out fine but the dead sheep photos didnt come back at all. This was in the days of the "beast of Bodmin Moor" for those of us old enough to remember it! For a long time after that me, my mates and my sister talked about nothing except conspiracy theory and the beast of Bodmin moor! I still love Dartmoor and still holiday in Cornwall but I've never seen anything like that since!

[jf1970 328]

I've put this one up before so sorry if you've read it

 

There was a section of railway banking which backed onto a couple of fieds we used to lamp and ferret as kids, the banks were full of holes and it was too much temptation not to jump the fence and try the ferrets.

There was 2 of us me and my mate Jason, my whippet x ..Hagler.. ( oh he was some hard dog ) and Jasons Dads ancient Jack Russel ( he was stone death and possibly nearly blind)... We set the few purse nets we owned and the big hob ferret flew in and the fun began, thumping and rabbits bolting, missing nets, dogs on the lines, ferret popping up either side of the lines, it was the type of carnage you'd expect from a couple of kids having a go at a railway bank...Then it went wrong, we saw a train coming from a long way off so I grabbed my dog and pulled it into the hedge, Jasons russel went awol, and was oblivious to Jasons shouts, as the train grew closer Jason was still on the side of the tracks ( this is on the Exeter to Exmouth line, not very busy and only smallish trains) the driver pulled his window down and shouted at us to get off the tracks.... Jason done what all 13 year old boys would do and stuck up his finger, with a loud "F**K Off"... nice... the train then slowed down and stopped, I was off accross the fields and into the bushes, from my view point I could see Jason running away from the train along the railway lines ... The train was backing up the line and then stopped, what I couldn't see was the deaf and short sighted terrier had ran to the train driver, he was now holding the terrier and telling Jason if you want your dog back you'd better come with me, Jason had no choice but to get on the train... all I could see was my mate climbing onto the train and it pulling off to continue it's journey... shit I thought.

When Jason got on the train he was made to do the walk of shame past a couple of carriages of disgruntled commuters, to the store at the back... He was taken to Exmouth train station where the police were wating for him, after a good telling off and a lesson on the dangers of railways they took him and that bloody dog home, another bollocking from his old man and his day was complete

It was an early lesson on dogs, if there blind and deaf there a liability

lol, that reminds me of when i was younger, not a hunting related story, i was about 14 when it happened. I had a wee JRT when i was younger and she used to follow me everywhere and i mean everywhere, even ended up in the cop shop with me a couple of times, anyway, this day me and a couple of the mates decided to chance our luck at getting served in the local boozer, so in we go and my mate andy who looked older than us went up to the bar and asked for 3 pints of heavy while we were over by the dart board trying to keep out the way, none of us could believe our luck when the barman never even asked him for I.D and poured the 3 pints, we were all standing drinking our pints thinking we were the bees knees when in f***ing walked my old man, he gave me a slap across the back of the head and told me to get the f**k home, I found out a few days later that while my old man was on the bus coming home from work, he had spotted my wee JRT outside the pub waiting for me.

[NEWKID 27,622]

 

 

My old man made me a bow and arrows one day, it was a cracker, tensioned bamboo bow with twine, and arrows made from those thin garden sticks, with a little lead wire a couple of inches from the tip and flights...

I was told in no uncertain terms " do not fire it at anyone" " no Dad" ... An 8 year old set loose with a weapon lol, over the garden fence I spot my next door neighbour, he was the same age as me and a perfect target.... My one and only shot with that bow and arrow hit it's intended target in the back, the following scream brought both my dad and his mum running out of the houses.... I don't know what hurt more the beating or watching my beloved bow being broken over my Dads leg lol...

We used to have great laugh with bows and arrows! Every now and again the estate where I lived was like it was full of red Indians with arrows flying everywhere! One of the best ones I made was from one of my old man's chimney cleaning rods out the shed, he weren't pleased when he came home and found out! My youngest brother broke his arm as a kid, falling off a rope swing that went out over a bank that some of the older kids made up the park. My old man climbed up the tree and took the rope, but The following morning it was back! That happened a few times, and in the end my dad got pissed off with climbing up this tree every morning on the way to work, so in the end he went up there on a windy night with his bow saw and the fecking whole tree was taken down!

Another time my dad was cleaning a few rabbits in the garden and he had an audience of my brothers and their mates stood there watching fascinated! One of the little lads who lived a few doors up went home and told his mum that he said something like 'Dai killied a rabbit, ripped its guts out and pulled its fur off!'

 

Haha

 

My dad wouldn't gut or clean anything that was my job lol, he never taught me to hunt, his best friend did, I spent all my time with him as a kid he took me hunting, fishing, nesting everything really... One night my dad sent me down the woods with 14 woodies to pluck and breast, it was starting to get dark so I tore into them at a frantic rate. The next morning the opening to the woods was covered in feathers they were everywhere, I got bollocked for not plucking them into the bag, I was about 12 lol... He does it all now, I'll give him rabbits and he skins them, plucks geese and pheasants etc....

 

When I lived in Bristol for a while we used to have peg gun wars with the neighbouring estate, they had a peg gun cannon it had about 50 loaded pegs around it, set outside their den... Now I was very jealous about that cannon it made my 6 pegger look pathetic lol

Edited April 3, 2013 by NEWKID

[Tiercel 6,986]

Did any of you lads ever go wimberry picking when the season was in and sell them by the pint to all the old dears to make tart ??? .....

Yep, wish I had known about a comb then.

 

TC

[gnasher16 30,491]

I'm a city lad, with an inbuilt passion for the countryside. Fortunately for me, the arrival of a whippet/greyhound pup, when I was about 7 years old, opened up that 'other' world better than anything could, but it was only at weekends that we could really get out an go!

 

I met John when I was about 12, my dad worked on a big landfill site outside the city, Sundays meant no bosses, so I could go, my trusty mutt too, and follow the ratters and other hunters who spent weekends at this mecca, just on the fringe of Altcar estate. John was local, older than me by a year and we met as he walked back off the Altcar fields, huge hare in hand and stunning slate grey Deerhoundy lurcher at his side. Oh boy, Jet was some looker and although all things look a bit more special through the eyes of a kid I'd still say Jet still is the best example of type I've ever seen.

 

We hit it off and became mates and I met some of the other local lads that John hunted with too. Biff (he was a good boxer) was one, one of the best, a good dog man and hunter. Now John was the instigator, maybe the leader of our usual trio, though we never thought of him that way but he was always the one with the idea, the plan and although they were never quite as good as he painted, we were never disappointed by his 'sometimes' hair-brained crazy ideas, they were always bloody good fun! They lived on the doorstep, I only made weekends.

 

So one Sunday when we'd walked and hunted all day and were sat down for a rest John said we should bring our air guns with us the next week. I was never into guns and never thought they were either, so this better be worth it and I asked why. So john explained about the barn, a big old barn that was chock full of pigeons and we could sneak up on it and nail 'em through the various windows and gaps... "We should get loads.." But we needed a couple more lads...

 

So the following week seen me turning over the shed in our back yard to dig out the ancient Diana pistol which was my gun... Now this gun, was it shite and only just bettered a Gat, I was a bit worried about getting stick but it was all I had and would have to do!

Sunday came an I stuffed the gun in my rucksack below my nets an butties, so me Dad wouldn't see, though he'd got me it ('Tip-Brand', found on the tip!) it could never leave the house. So we met up, me John an Biff, plus two other lads, one with a ok looking rifle and the other with a Gat (thank feck for that!!), Biff with a Webley Hurricane and I just took it John had his gun, like mine, in his bag. So off we marched, to the old barn, to do a deed, about a mile away.

 

When it was in view, John stopped us all, the 'plan' was, we sneak up, find one of the numerous gaps in the boarded windows and doors, take aim and on Johns signal, fire..!!!

We fanned out, me an Biff went round the back, which was a bit crap cause of the nettles but we had a window each with loads of gaps and peered in. The light, filtering though such an old and worn place, from just about everywhere, showed up a building full of a long gone past, old tractors and farm implements poked out from rotted tarpaulins caked thick in bird shit and it was that amount of shit that made you look up to the rafters and see every inch covered by a pigeons.

I looked over at Biff at the next window, he was grinning as much as me, surely all we had to do was aim in the general direction to hit one, who knows, we might hit two!

We took aim and it wasn't long before the word 'fire' rang out and we did... The rush of wings was huge, the noise after the calm was massive an I stared to see amongst the frenzy if one was heading 'south' fast but in the madness it was just about impossible to see.

 

I was snapped out of my strain by my name being shouted and I ran to the call. Biff was now round the corner, looking up at the stone steps that ran up the gable of the barn, there was John, or someone that looked like John, going 'ape' with a tennis racquet in hand, twatting everything that came out of that barn at a million miles an hour, he stood in a cloud of feathers, dead birds, beaks, blood an snot, like some sort of wild man.... Laugh, I nearly pissed meself...!

 

See, we were only the spookers, just there to get them birds to fly out that door! Yer, if we nailed one (who knew? ) great but John had stashed that old tennis racquet earlier in the week, he knew what would get him numbers....

 

We were a good little team back then, for a good few years after too. Then Biff was killed... Take one leg off the stool an its gonna fall over... Good times though..

 

Thats the best one yet felt like i was there with you anticipating !......smart lad that John,surname wasnt Mcenroe by any chance ..........Thanks for sharing,was a cracking read

[jf1970 328]

 

I'm a city lad, with an inbuilt passion for the countryside. Fortunately for me, the arrival of a whippet/greyhound pup, when I was about 7 years old, opened up that 'other' world better than anything could, but it was only at weekends that we could really get out an go!

 

I met John when I was about 12, my dad worked on a big landfill site outside the city, Sundays meant no bosses, so I could go, my trusty mutt too, and follow the ratters and other hunters who spent weekends at this mecca, just on the fringe of Altcar estate. John was local, older than me by a year and we met as he walked back off the Altcar fields, huge hare in hand and stunning slate grey Deerhoundy lurcher at his side. Oh boy, Jet was some looker and although all things look a bit more special through the eyes of a kid I'd still say Jet still is the best example of type I've ever seen.

 

We hit it off and became mates and I met some of the other local lads that John hunted with too. Biff (he was a good boxer) was one, one of the best, a good dog man and hunter. Now John was the instigator, maybe the leader of our usual trio, though we never thought of him that way but he was always the one with the idea, the plan and although they were never quite as good as he painted, we were never disappointed by his 'sometimes' hair-brained crazy ideas, they were always bloody good fun! They lived on the doorstep, I only made weekends.

 

So one Sunday when we'd walked and hunted all day and were sat down for a rest John said we should bring our air guns with us the next week. I was never into guns and never thought they were either, so this better be worth it and I asked why. So john explained about the barn, a big old barn that was chock full of pigeons and we could sneak up on it and nail 'em through the various windows and gaps... "We should get loads.." But we needed a couple more lads...

 

So the following week seen me turning over the shed in our back yard to dig out the ancient Diana pistol which was my gun... Now this gun, was it shite and only just bettered a Gat, I was a bit worried about getting stick but it was all I had and would have to do!

Sunday came an I stuffed the gun in my rucksack below my nets an butties, so me Dad wouldn't see, though he'd got me it ('Tip-Brand', found on the tip!) it could never leave the house. So we met up, me John an Biff, plus two other lads, one with a ok looking rifle and the other with a Gat (thank feck for that!!), Biff with a Webley Hurricane and I just took it John had his gun, like mine, in his bag. So off we marched, to the old barn, to do a deed, about a mile away.

 

When it was in view, John stopped us all, the 'plan' was, we sneak up, find one of the numerous gaps in the boarded windows and doors, take aim and on Johns signal, fire..!!!

We fanned out, me an Biff went round the back, which was a bit crap cause of the nettles but we had a window each with loads of gaps and peered in. The light, filtering though such an old and worn place, from just about everywhere, showed up a building full of a long gone past, old tractors and farm implements poked out from rotted tarpaulins caked thick in bird shit and it was that amount of shit that made you look up to the rafters and see every inch covered by a pigeons.

I looked over at Biff at the next window, he was grinning as much as me, surely all we had to do was aim in the general direction to hit one, who knows, we might hit two!

We took aim and it wasn't long before the word 'fire' rang out and we did... The rush of wings was huge, the noise after the calm was massive an I stared to see amongst the frenzy if one was heading 'south' fast but in the madness it was just about impossible to see.

 

I was snapped out of my strain by my name being shouted and I ran to the call. Biff was now round the corner, looking up at the stone steps that ran up the gable of the barn, there was John, or someone that looked like John, going 'ape' with a tennis racquet in hand, twatting everything that came out of that barn at a million miles an hour, he stood in a cloud of feathers, dead birds, beaks, blood an snot, like some sort of wild man.... Laugh, I nearly pissed meself...!

 

See, we were only the spookers, just there to get them birds to fly out that door! Yer, if we nailed one (who knew? ) great but John had stashed that old tennis racquet earlier in the week, he knew what would get him numbers....

 

We were a good little team back then, for a good few years after too. Then Biff was killed... Take one leg off the stool an its gonna fall over... Good times though..

 

Thats the best one yet felt like i was there with you anticipating !......smart lad that John,surname wasnt Mcenroe by any chance ..........Thanks for sharing,was a cracking read

yeah i enjoyed that aswell, shame about biff though.

[Kay 3,709]

One summer way back in the 80's i was on my way to Cornwall, crossing Dartmoor in a hired Ford Escort; we stopped for some sightseeing and my mum shouted out the normal "dont go too far" and on this occassion, I didnt!! Not far from the road were the bodies of dead sheep, a real messy job! We took some photos and when we got back had the film developed at Boots. All the family shots in looe/Polperro etc came out fine but the dead sheep photos didnt come back at all. This was in the days of the "beast of Bodmin Moor" for those of us old enough to remember it! For a long time after that me, my mates and my sister talked about nothing except conspiracy theory and the beast of Bodmin moor! I still love Dartmoor and still holiday in Cornwall but I've never seen anything like that since!

I was going to post again about the obligatory 2 weeks holiday , we always went to Cornwall, the 2 weeks we went were the 2nd & 3rd week of the 6 weeks school holiday .... the reason these weeks were as follows

 

1st week of the school holidays was spent washing clobber in the twin tub , so we were got in a headlock by mother who said dont get dirty this week as i am washing all your stuff & you cant wear it..

 

2nd & 3rd week was spent in Cornwall... getting there was an epic journey , me , my brother & my parents in a reliant Robin all the luggage.. being told to shut up asking '' are we there yet'' .......... then the clip round the ear off mother for bickering & belting my brother in the back of the reliant

 

I remember one place we went to down in Cornwall where i saw glow worms in the grass & remember hanging out of a rubber dinghy watching basking sharks .... there was nights out on the caravan park where we went to the club house & my dad would be very loud & show off when he had been on the beer & they always met up with a couple with kids & act as if they had all known each other for all there lives ... the men especially propping the club house bar up while the women & kids sat at the table nattering

 

i remember my mother screeching at my brother all across the caravan site because he had a plastic sword he was waving about & said '' you will have someones eye out with that put it down''

 

i think my parents earned the right to get a bit pissed .. must have taken all year to save for the holiday , the one time every year you could guarantee my dad would be searching all the next morning for his teeth

 

the summer holidays lasted for ever in the 70's they were hot never had rain in the summers in the 70's & you were brown as a berry except where your ankle socks came to

 

once back from holiday 4th week was washing all the clober again & being headlocked again & told '' dont get dirty .. i aint washed the stuff yet so theres nothing to wear''

 

week 5 was take me shopping for school uniform & shoes ... that was my dads domain.. skirt to the ankles knee length socks & clarks shoes i hated wearing sensible shoes

 

All in all it was brilliant & i now appreciate what a good childhood I genuinely had , never went without ... wasn't spoiled . just had what we needed ... loved it