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Whatever happened to......?

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I rember rugger at Mellish. A raw wind used to blow over the frosted field in the winter. Unlike soccer, rugger is very much a stop and start game with regular intervals for scrums and lineouts so there was lots of hanging around getting frozen. The games master would be wearing a thick overcoat with scarf and gloves. I hated it. Further up the school, when I had the option, I chose cross country running where at least you were moving all the time. I became school champion and was selected to run for the county. Not bragging!:biggrin:

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34 minutes ago, radfordred said:

Mistletoe ain't seen any this year? 

Behave your self rr what you want mistletoe for.

They've got lots at Halams in Beeston and there is a tree in my local park full of it all

you need is your long handled loppers 

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My abiding memory of cross country running is Sid Bolton wrapped up nice and warm whilst we froze. The course followed Fairham Brook as far as the bridge at Ruddington Ln. Forge across it, down the other side and eventually crossing back over and return to school. A second teacher, can't remember his name. sat parked in his Moggie minor and made sure everyone covered the full route. Vest. running shorts and plimsoles were the only things allowed. Those who were not among the leaders given the slipper on their cold backside as you went into the showers.

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31 minutes ago, sue B 48 said:

what you want mistletoe for

 

Bit of snogging, hugging & squeezing, not with the blokes mind. 

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@IAN123.

 

Don’t recall making decs at school but we, younger brother & older sister, religiously made paper chains just before Christmas on our weekly Sunday visits (Sing Something Simple always came on the radio on the way home) to Gran & Grandads in Langley Mill.

Hanged from the central light fitting to each corner, balancing precariously on the backs of sofas & chairs to get the drawing pins in the corner of the room.

Any left over would be displayed on the walls in a series of arcs.

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We made a christmas table centre in the infants at Berridge. Materials, a round Dairylea cheese box...base or lid... filled with white plaster of Paris, into which were stuck a sprig of plastic holly, a red candle and a pine cone, plus a sprinkle of glitter!

 

The classroom was decorated with coloured metallic strips out of which milk bottle tops had been punched. Lethal stuff. Razor sharp. No Elf & Safety then!

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Paper chains came in packs of ready cut strips. We always made them up to decorate the primary school classrooms. Poor old janitor would have had to take them all down after school closed for the holidays.

 

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Remember when:

You listened to a wireless, not a radio.
Bald people wore a wig, not a toupee or hairpiece
You went to the seaside, not the coast
You went on holiday, not a vacation.
You got tablets from a chemist, not a pharmacy.
You ate a biscuit, not a cookie.
It was birds, not people, who used to tweet.
MacDonald had a farm, not beef burgers.
As a child you had sweets, not candy.
You had coke on a fire, not a drink in a bottle or drugs.
You went to the pictures to see a film, not a cinema, to watch a movie.
Remote was something far away, not a device for operating a t.v.
People wore glasses, not spectacles.
Soap was something you used to wash with, not a type of programme on t.v..
A recorder was a musical instrument, not for copying programmes from the t.v..
You took a picture with your camera, not a photograph.
A mouse was a rodent, not a computer accessory.
Mobile meant being active, not a portable phone.
A hard drive was a hard and long trip, not part of a computer.
If you had the flu you’d caught a virus, not something on a computer.
Memory was something you lost with age.
Pop was a fizzy drink, not a type of music.
You wore pumps, baseball shoes or plimsolls, not trainers.
Manchester United et al played football, not soccer.
You were paid a wage, not a salary.
Your mother cooked chips, not French Fries.
STD was a type of telephone call, not a disease.
A monitor was probably a person who handed out milk at school, not a computer screen.
A tunnel went under a road, not a subway.

or petrol station, not a filling station.
You went for a drink a the pub, not in a bar.
People lived in a flat, not an apartment.
Wag was what a dog did with its tail, not wives and girlfriends.
People played housey-housey or lotto, not bingo.
You went to a show, not a gig.
A shower was rain, not a device for washing yourself.
If you had a joint it was meat, not drugs.
You went to a Beer Off, not an Off Licence.
A spider would spin a web, not surf it.
Surf was a soap powder.
Kindle was sticks with which to light a fire.
A keyboard was a musical instrument such as a piano.
Women used to dye their hair, not colour it.

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When we first came to live in the country there was an active wife swapping circle in our village. I was too young and unmarried to join but I observed the ‘goings on’ with interest. Some have remarried, moved on or died but there are still one or two remaining who now are elderly pillars of society. Oh for the swinging sixties! ;)

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I once went but the best offer I got was an old pushbike and that had flat tyres..   :angry:

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2 hours ago, philmayfield said:

When we first came to live in the country there was an active wife swapping circle in our village. I was too young and unmarried to join but I observed the ‘goings on’ with interest. 

 

How did you know about it ?  Was it publicly advertised, or just blatantly obvious ?

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Looking at some of the women in the villages I have known their husbands had my greatest sympathy and were welcome to keep them.

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Cliff..the Caravan Club sticker on a motor ..virtually a green light...there is a book about 1970's antics.

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9 minutes ago, Cliff Ton said:

 

How did you know about it ?  Was it publicly advertised, or just blatantly obvious ?

You’ve got to have lived in a village back then to appreciate the gossip. Village shop, pub, milkman, baker. Very insular communities. Townies, of which I was one, were only just staring to move out in numbers then. Somewhat resented by the indiginous country folk. They did start to interbreed though which was a good thing. Back in the 60’s all the locals were quite closely related. I must admit I married a country girl from the next village but her family were ‘incomers’.

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I lived in Brinsley near Eastwood for around 15 years. When I first moved there, most of the residents were indigenous and at the mention of the name D H Lawrence, they issued forth verbal abuse, every last one of em. Yet, listening to the goings on in that village made his steamier novels look tame! Bunch of hypocrites many of them. Not sure most of em could read.

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56 minutes ago, IAN123. said:

Cliff..the Caravan Club sticker on a motor ..virtually a green light...there is a book about 1970's antics.

 

Whaaaat!   We're in the Caravan Club!

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I heard some gossip in our village pub tuther day. I went home and told the missis. I said "you know that fella who lives at the end cottage towards Bleasby. Well they recon he's made love to all women in village bar one". My wife said, I wonder who that is then.

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