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I think he has a grave misunderstanding of his customer base.

Following on from my previous posting on the Textile School, I remembered that of all the Teachers the two who were the most difficult to please were Miss Wenn..who seemed to hate all students of the male gender and Mr Rippon who once told me that I would be lucky to get a job as a dustbinman. On the final day before leaving Mr Rippon instructed us to rub down the rust spots on his old car and make good the paintwork using paint that was in his boot. Being good pupils we did as we were told except that when we opened the boot we found a can of black paint and a can of white paint (the car was

Fishing trips to Brid' organised by Bestwood Miners Welfare, crates of ale on board for trip up, on to a boat where we stood shoulder to shoulder around the boat with rods like brush handles & big wooden reels, but did catch some cod!! always someone hanging over the side 'ground bating' with ale & sarnies...........ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTH.............skipper would gut the catch on the way back in to Brid', & throw 'em up for gulls, occasionally a gull would miss & you'd get a faceful of guts..........ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTH, again!!, off the boat into the pub then another crate or two b

Went to the Metropole in mid-late 50's. Returned empty lemonade bottles to local sweet 'tuffee' shop to raise the tanner entrance fee to see Flash Gordon, Roy Rogers, etc. 'We are the boys and girls well know as, we're minors of the ABC and every Saturday all line up to see the films we like and shout and laugh with glee, etc;. Sung with gusto to the strains of Washington Post......sad, really!!

Your story reminded me of my mums Freddie fox, she talked to him and he used to put his head to one side to listen. I posted a pic of him somewhere a while ago.

I love foxes, Only ever seen dog foxes on my land here in rural Brittany. No females. I always greet them and talk softly, Over the years the young dogs get more confident and don't take flight unless surprised. Never get too close, but often just sit or stand looking at me in an unconcerned sort of way. They know me far better than I know them. No threat, just common respect. Found me latest 'Charlie Fox' mate dead in front of the house yesterday. Only yards from the spot I found his forbear 5 years ago - probably his dad. Not a ghost story but sometimes odd things happen. Hope his son

Oh wow! I've never seen anything like that, the pressure must have been immense even considering it failed along the weld lines. The compressor engines I've seen used on that type of tank (popularly known as 'pigs' from the discharge outlet arrangement) were Ford diesels, Petter diesels and VW Beatle petrol. Thanks for the pic, that's one to save.

Next story My daughter and I went to motorpoint arena to see Bryan Ferry. Sitting facing us we both saw a man dressed in very old fashioned clothes,he had on what I think is called a tricorn hat.No one else sat on a few seats either side of him.We somehow felt compelled to look at him,he didn't appear to be watching the show and sat very still.Anyway when we did take our eyes off him to watch Bryan ,we looked for the man again later on and he had gone and didn't come back. I think there used to be a burial ground under the arena,maybe he wondered what the racket was and c

crankypig all the joys of having a dog with out having to take it out for a walk.

What a thoroughly nasty piece of work Barton is. I'm glad we stuffed him today.

carni, crankypig. Did you read my ghost story poem, The Encounter, in the Poetry thread, page 5, posting #120?

The Encounter In a park one day, a little lad, on a bench did see old man, On close approach he saw a tear, down his face there ran. 'Hello' said lad, with turn of head, the man did smile allow, For he recalled himself that age, had stood where he did now. Had stood and looked beyond, o'er woods and patchwork fields, Not now their presence met the eye, their fate so long was sealed. Bricks and mortar, glass and steel, where once grazed sheep and cow, Toilers on the land did sow, and steer the horse-drawn plough. Recalling times

Chulla, I never knew that about Tom Bridges, wherever did I get the idea he lived on Broxtowe Lane? I always thought he had a house built on that bit of land between the 2 sets of shops. The mind plays funny tricks. Didn't know about his truck being American either. I did get it right though about it being absolutely laden, if he hadn't got it, you didn't need it!

the DON JUAN was the coffee bar on Parliament street......did start a thread on it somewhere...........can anyone remember the Barracuda on hurts yard ?