Before You Croak


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When I moved to Calgary from Toronto in 1974. Calgary was a city of about 600,000. Now over a million. Went through it last August on my way up from the US to Edmonton. It was about 11 a.m. Now seems like permanent rush hour. Still a very livable city though.

I like Calgary, Loppy and agree it's a very liveable place. Great advantage of being 90minutes from the Rockies but those Chinooks can offer some seriously strange weather. Of the two, I actually prefer Edmonton. I'm not sure if it's because its the first place I ever washed up in Canada maybe but there's something very friendly about the place. It perhaps lost some ground on Calgary a few years ago but I love the numerous festivals they have their and the general ambience of the place. Just mentioning the name I can feel those cold Arctic winds whistling around the tower blocks downtown though! For that, and many other reasons I'd always prefer Vancouver and also Kelowna as a place to visit or live.

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Yes, Redmonton could be a bit nippy, but you got used to it. My kids still live there.

Main problem with Chinooks was going from -20 or so up to +40 or fifty then a rapid freeze after dark. Made for some interesting walking conditions.

Kelowna was always a great place for a holiday, good beaches along Okanagon lake and usually nice and hot in the summer. Spent some happy hours there.

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  • 4 years later...

Yeah, I could. I've given it some serious thought, and definitely would.

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My four grandchildren are of 'the lost generation' when it comes to buying a house. I want to help them all to get on the ladder before I croak. First one currently in progress. Rather help when I'm alive than when I'm dead.

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What a lovely thing to do PP. You are the kind of Granddad I would like to have had 50 years ago when we were starting out. Mind you my father in law put up £50 deposit for our first house for us. I bet it's a bit different now.

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Yes Carni - it certainly is different. It is a sad day when a married couple, both working, cannot even dream of saving up for a deposit.

Sky high rent on a little house and a daughter to provide for! These youngsters have no chance. My generation should do all we can to help.

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We never made the big time as regards spare money. but only having two children and one grand child, ensures that they will all get a helping hand from us eventually, from the house sale and the bits and bobs amassed over the years. I'm pretty sure they will thank us as i'm sure your grand children will thank you. 

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Having stood on the equator in Indonesia, the tropic of Cancer in India, the tropic of Capricorn here in OZ. I suppose the Arctic and Antarctic circles should be next. Doubt that as I don't like the cold. Strangely enough I have never stood on the Greenwich meridian in London, maybe this year?

See Forest, County and Stags play again, see the Test Match at Trent Bridge.

Invent a time machine and go back to the sixties

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Move to a nice apartment in Spain (or Bulwell)..........open the batting for England at Trent Bridge.........and stand with legs astride two countries,....................only one i know will never happen...............

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Croaking!? bogger that. I have a plan to live forever. Woke up this morning, poked nose over duvet  and thought, heh! plans still working.

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When I was a lad

 

Just one more time before I croak,

   Take me back to childhood.

The early post-war years evoke,

   My memories in full flood.

 

Oh to walk through Broxtowe woods,

   With bluebells as my carpet.

To hear steam trains, shunting goods,

   Catch minnows in a fish net.

 

To play on street till darkness fall,

   Dobbie or such games,

Till we heard our mothers call,

   One by one our names.

 

Then listen to Dick Barton,

   With pals Jock and Snowy.

Will he manage to escape?

   Yes he will, we know it.

 

Take me back to Fowler's pond,

   A great adventure playground.

Memories of which we're fond,

   And mischief I'll be bound.

 

To stand at Bells Lane crossing,

   And wait for train of coal.

Trucks pulled by engine chuffing,

   A loco with some soul.

 

In short trousers, climb the trees,

   Never  fear to fall.

Rough and tumble, scrape our knees,

   And give out our gang's call*

 

Building up for bonfire night,

   Go progging for the firewood.

In middle street, set it alight,

   Around the blaze we stood.

 

Off the pictures every week,

   A few pence at our local.

Six-gun justice we did seek,

   The serial was focal.

 

Read Dandy, Beano every week,

   Enjoyment was immense.

Comic culture we did seek,

   For price of just two pence.

 

Spotting locos we would go,

   To get a cop was fine.

See our list of numbers grow,

   In stockbook underline.

 

But nothing lasts, we did enjoy,

   Short trousers gone for good.

Goodbye master schoolboy,

   Here comes mister manhood.

 

* it was: i-ki-ee-i

 

 

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Enjoyed the poem Chulla but I had never heard the word progging in that sense? Had to look it up. Apparently it dates back to the late 16th century. I only knew progging as computer slang for writing a program.

This is the first new thing of many I will learn today

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