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Morning Mrs Gorritt..........is this your Grandson young Affer ?........get your Granny one of those chairs Affer....good lad,,, Got your note in the letter-box this morning,,,Ham Hock,,Ounce of Yeast,,Camp Coffee,,Sunlight Soap,,Beetop Sauce,,Duraglit,,1/4 of Gorgonzola,,and half a pound of Pork Dripping.......all ready in one of our new Brown bags with string,,, 16/10.... Here you are Affer,,carry this for your Gran,,............

Covid swab test results showed negative. I could have been dead by the time the results came through. My old 16 y/o fishing wagon (X Trail) passed it's mot and nothing needed fixing Just £39 Amazing considering the rough tracks I use every week.

4 booked & 4 cancelled, once we where both classed as keyworker & told carry on working while most where feet up watching NetFlix, you can't now tell us to stay @ home? Just finished my last shift for 2 weeks, hopefully will be somewhere horizontal in the sun

All sounds familiar....apart from Duraglit. I don't remember that and had to look it up.

Biggest bunch of bandits ever to sour the name of Nottingham.

£398 for that !! That's probably close to the price of the house on Grimston Road when it was first built.

Two types Cliff..........one for silver one for Brass.........very popular in its day..........

Brilliant, Ben! What memories! Saw some Camp in Sainsburys the other day, and I saved the fat off the pork joint the other week and had toast and dripping for breakfast for days!

In China the public loos had a mix of regular toilets and holes in the ground. Of course, we ladies wanted to use the regular toilets and there were less of them than the holey ones. It took longer for the ladies, than the men who were in and out quickly. So the guide would tell us to use the men's as well and he stood guard outside. I did notice when older Chinese ladies came in the loos, they'd squat at the holes, with the door open!

I also remember the old circular gents’ pissoirs in Paris where you could see the occupants’ heads and feet. It was the first time I saw a bidet in which I used to soak my feet after a day’s sightseeing. I was told that the French were a very hygienic race who washed their hands before using the toilet!

When I first came to France I was warned never to go anywhere without plenty of toilet paper. My first experience ever of a French public toilet was at Nice airport. It was staffed by numerous Gorgonian women each with their tray of small change in which you were supposed to donate an appropriate amount of money in exchange for (like Italy) the two sheets (small size) of what they termed papier hygenique but which would be just as suitable as sandpaper (Izal had nothing on that). Suddenly, I didn't need to go any longer. I should point out that it's not like that now and, apart fro

Nonna - I know the toilets in Italy aren't like that, with the rationed loo roll, these days! We've been to Italy on holiday several times in recent years, and we love it - it's our favourite country to visit

Yes Lizzie I remember them well. Tough if you had to go in after a man. The floors were all wet through and they were smelly. They had never seemed to have heard of toilet cleaner. In 1989 we bought a restaurant that did weddings etc. There was only one loo so guests ( most weddings were 200+ guests) either had to go elsewhere or cross their legs. I remember we had a cleaner to do the every day jobs but never ever did the toilet. We got rid of her and I set to cleaning it. The limescale wouldn't go away whatever I tried ( here the water is really hard) so I got all the chemicals toge

Margie, we love Jack to bits but this situation is getting so difficult and I’m afraid his days are numbered, his only saving grace is that he’s still eating well and as far as I’m aware the house isn’t smelly!

Just a bit further up the road is the bus stop where we used to display our Guy Fawkes and beg for coppers from the alighting passengers. I’m sure the bus stop was outside a newsagents then, and the shop is still a newsagents. We’d then spend our money on penny bangers from another newsagent, Johnny Wells’s, which, I think, was on the opposite corner to Marsden’s. Remember Marsdens with fondness. Queueing up with grandma, breathing in the smells. Proper shop with proper assistants.