Nah then folks, during the 60s..

[cuttsie]

bhunmnkoo,,gdffd

Lets all know what tha't onabout its a Forum.

[zakes]

Cousin Daphne. Edited version Re-mastered.

 

Creating waves whilst lying in the bath at home Zakes had a look of intent upon his cute, cheerful, cheeky cherubic face. The hot soothing Radox filled water was swaying forth and back at five hands high at it’s lowest, as he was thinking of his wayward cousin, Daphne.

 

The swipping and swapping of the water could be clearly heard, as the waves rose to become more violent as Zakes recalled those heady days of the last Autumn gone when Daphne had come to stay for a week. During the second night Daphne had crept into Zakes’ bedroom and had requested a cuddle. Zakes had been glad to have been of assistance because it had been ruddy well freezing in the room. One thing had led to another and before long Daphne had slid half way down under the bedclothes, and within within moments the confused 13 year old Zakes didn’t know whether he was coming or going. After a few minutes Zakes asked Daphne if she was alright down there, and warned her that things could get messy if she wasn’t careful. His cousiness told Zakes everything was okay and to stop talking gobbledegook, Zakes responded by telling her it was bad manners to talk with her mouth full.

 

After the waves had died down, the almost breathless Zakes climbed from the bath then dried himself with a fluffy green towel. He didn’t like what he saw in the full length wall mirror and quickly dressed after powdering himself. Reaching for the cupboard like canister of Vim, Zakes speedily scrubbed the bath clean of it’s tide mark, and also made sure not to leave any evidence of his enjoyment.

 

Warmly wrapped up, Zakes left the family home at Newstead Rise and took the decision to have a gander around the shops at Frecheville. It was snowing quite heavily, the flakes the size of half crowns. It was easy going as the snow lay round about shallow, soggy and odd, as opposed to that senseless wenseless carol. It was now coming up to the fourth week of December in the year 1967 and Christmas was just a few days away, and Christmas Day is the present day, and not just today.

 

Walking along Newstead Road, Zakes didn’t come across a robust man who didn’t rest upon his laurels, nor did he come across a grey haired old man. Approaching Frecheville shops Zakes also didn’t hear a woman calling his name and try to sell him her wares.

 

Arriving at Frechy, Zakes had a good look around all the shiny shops and met many people he knew, and everyone seemed to be looking forward to being visited by Santa in a few days time.

 

Peering through the window of the Butcher’s shop, Zakes saw nine Anatolian Norfolk Turkeys on display, and not only thought that they and cousin Daphne were good gobblers, but he also thought all ten of them within the next few days would want, and would get, a reight good stuffin’!

 

Dedicated to Sheffield’s best ever bricklayer. He’s ours, leave him alone.

[memari laine]

So, who is the bricklayer?

[Jim Hardie]

So, who is the bricklayer?

 

'cuttsie' at a guess.

[louan]

'cuttsie' at a guess.

 

Great reading, cuttsie's also a great storyteller. Been waiting for something from him for ages!

 

---------- Post added 30-06-2013 at 11:26 ----------

 

Yes Memari well spotted. My mum hated me and I was scared of her, that's why i was always out and about. I loved my dad. Bless you lady.

 

The sins of the parents!

 

---------- Post added 30-06-2013 at 17:19 ----------

 

Oh Memari, that Zakes makes me lol. Love the bit about the Anglo/French condoms. Not sure we should be encouraging someone who speaks in the third person but hey ho - he's so amusing and his memory is phenomenal. Still very frustrated about not knowing who he is though - wish someone would put us out of our misery.

 

I'm guessing he's living or has lived in Germany, possibly Southern Germany or some other German speaking country. Can't wait for more of his episodes. Did older Zakes at sometime leave the country?

[cuttsie]

Cousin Daphne. Edited version Re-mastered.

 

Creating waves whilst lying in the bath at home Zakes had a look of intent upon his cute, cheerful, cheeky cherubic face. The hot soothing Radox filled water was swaying forth and back at five hands high at it’s lowest, as he was thinking of his wayward cousin, Daphne.

 

The swipping and swapping of the water could be clearly heard, as the waves rose to become more violent as Zakes recalled those heady days of the last Autumn gone when Daphne had come to stay for a week. During the second night Daphne had crept into Zakes’ bedroom and had requested a cuddle. Zakes had been glad to have been of assistance because it had been ruddy well freezing in the room. One thing had led to another and before long Daphne had slid half way down under the bedclothes, and within within moments the confused 13 year old Zakes didn’t know whether he was coming or going. After a few minutes Zakes asked Daphne if she was alright down there, and warned her that things could get messy if she wasn’t careful. His cousiness told Zakes everything was okay and to stop talking gobbledegook, Zakes responded by telling her it was bad manners to talk with her mouth full.

 

After the waves had died down, the almost breathless Zakes climbed from the bath then dried himself with a fluffy green towel. He didn’t like what he saw in the full length wall mirror and quickly dressed after powdering himself. Reaching for the cupboard like canister of Vim, Zakes speedily scrubbed the bath clean of it’s tide mark, and also made sure not to leave any evidence of his enjoyment.

 

Warmly wrapped up, Zakes left the family home at Newstead Rise and took the decision to have a gander around the shops at Frecheville. It was snowing quite heavily, the flakes the size of half crowns. It was easy going as the snow lay round about shallow, soggy and odd, as opposed to that senseless wenseless carol. It was now coming up to the fourth week of December in the year 1967 and Christmas was just a few days away, and Christmas Day is the present day, and not just today.

 

Walking along Newstead Road, Zakes didn’t come across a robust man who didn’t rest upon his laurels, nor did he come across a grey haired old man. Approaching Frecheville shops Zakes also didn’t hear a woman calling his name and try to sell him her wares.

 

Arriving at Frechy, Zakes had a good look around all the shiny shops and met many people he knew, and everyone seemed to be looking forward to being visited by Santa in a few days time.

 

Peering through the window of the Butcher’s shop, Zakes saw nine Anatolian Norfolk Turkeys on display, and not only thought that they and cousin Daphne were good gobblers, but he also thought all ten of them within the next few days would want, and would get, a reight good stuffin’!

 

Dedicated to Sheffield’s best ever bricklayer. He’s ours, leave him alone.

You bugger.

[zakes]

Gorilla Phlegm.

 

I gave her when it’s one,

She said it’s coming on,

Carry on, carry on

Carry on my brother John.

 

I gave her when it’s two,

She said it’s coming through,

Carry on, carry on

Carry on my brother John.

 

I gave her when it’s three,

She said it’s hurting me,

Carry on, carry on

Carry on my brother John.

 

I gave her when it’s four,

She said it’s hurting more,

Carry on, carry on

Carry on my brother John.

 

Just when he was about to start singing verse five, it suddenly occurred to Zakes he didn’t have a brother called John. In fact his elder two brothers were called something else. Zakes only knew one John, John Wastnidge who lived on the left up Birley Moor Drive. Perhaps John had a brother who could sing the other six verses of the song. He’ll ask John next week at school if he’s got a brother.

 

It was Thursday during half term in the year ’67. Zakes aged 13, had been to Frecheville shops late morning and had seen a girl full of impulse and delight. He had instantly fallen in love with her, and could hardly wait to see her again. It was just as well he was a patient person, because the next half term holidays were a long long time away.

 

Mid afternoon in the kitchen, Zakes treated himself to a chicken sandwich. The meat was most succulent, but the feathers were dry and had left a tickle in his throat. Having just switched on the kettle his dad arrived at home with a most fraught look upon his face. Wearing a suit in undertaker black, Dad Zakes had been to the funeral of one of his work mates who had suddenly died of the pox. Having brewed two cups of Lyons tea, one for himself and for his dad, Zakes decided to try and buck up his dad’s low spirits. “Dad, we all come into the world, grow up and live our lives. Then one day we are cut down like a flower to make room for the next ones coming up. We all after die or it’d be standing room only. So please don’t spot weld yourself to the settee fretting yourself to death.” On seeing his dad’s eyebrows unknotting themselves, and also detecting a slight smile, Zakes pressed on in his attempt to lighten his dad’s mood.

 

“Dad, why has a milk maid’s stool only got three legs?” asked Zakes.

“I don’t know son. Why has a milk maid’s stool only got three legs?” asked Dad Zakes.

“Because the cow’s got the udder one.” Ha-ha-ha. Laughed Zakes.

 

“Dad, what’s blue and hangs in the jungle?” asked Zakes.

“I don’t know son. What is blue and hangs in the jungle?” asked Dad Zakes.

“Tarzan in a boiler suit.” Ha-ha-ha. Laughed Zakes.

 

“Dad, what’s green and hangs in the jungle?” asked Zakes.

“I don’t know son. What is green and hangs in the jungle?” asked Dad Zakes.

“Goriulla phlegm.” Ha-ha-ha. Laughed Zakes.

 

“Dad, what did Ruth Ellis say to the hangman, when he came to execute her?” asked Zakes.

“I don’t know son. What did Ruth Ellis say to the hangman, when he came to execute her?” asked Dad Zakes.

“She said, I’ll let you have it tonight if you keep your trap shut.” Ha-ha-ha. Laughed Zakes.

 

On hearing the punch line to the forth joke Dad Zakes couldn’t contain himself and burst out into loud guffaws. This was the moment when Zakes knew he had succeeded in lifting his dad’s low spirits, but his dad did then say, “I liked that last joke son, but it’s a good job your mum didn’t hear it, because she’d have given you a thick ear.” On hearing this, the smile was instantly wiped off Zakes’ face.

 

Mum Zakes wouldn’t be home until the day after tomorrow because she’d gone to visit some friends in West London, at a place called Brentford. She always bought her clothes in Brentford including her nylons, which she got at a market stall run by a man called Alan. Alan was an Australian originally and it was rumoured he was a Freeman of a city. He also earned money as a D.J.

 

Dad Zakes loved his wife most dearly even though he was constantly under her cosh. After many years of marriage to her, it never occurred to him that wedlock is deadlock, or perhaps it tacitly did. Although Zakes loved and admired his dad, he would never have the desire to inhabit his skin, because he would be then married to a woman who had no love within her cold wooden heart.

[memari laine]

Does anyone on here remember Christine (nee Pearson) Shelton, Joan Greenwood, Sally Quinn, Sandra Coleman, we all left Carter Lodge in 1967.??

[zakes]

Zakes’s Tears Of A Clown.

 

In post 133 on this thread Memari Laine adroitly detected many of my musings are written through the tears of a clown. Since then I have received several PMs about this subject. Please let me try to clear up this matter.

 

Firstly, I am not in search of sympathy, cuddles and words of understanding etc. I wish just to explain. I certainly do wear a clowns mask when writing my somewhat embellished storyettes. I am not ashamed to admit I had some very difficult times during childhood, and my wayward ways were perhaps a form of protest against treatment I had received from 3 persons in particular. I recall very vividly the many times I drew a skinny arm across my eyes to wipe away tears that were about to run down my face. Very often fear ran through my veins like icy water, but there was nothing I could do about it but to accept it. Whenever I was in the presence of any of these 3 persons, I would always keep my tongue behind my closed teeth and remain silent in case it gave any of them the excuse to punish me. If I had done wrong I could take my punishment like any man (boy), but it always confused and angered me when I was punished when I had done nothing wrong.

 

The attempted comedy elements in my stories are actually a cover for the anger, outrage and despair I feel (felt) from all those years ago. I unashameably do admit to crying whilst piecing some of my writing together. This is often a problem because I have a very long memory and bad things come flooding back to me in minute detail.

 

I remember so well the times during the evenings in bed asking for help. I would be sat there with my eyes squeezed tightly shut, my chin resting on tented hands and I would imploringly pray to God. I would beg him to tell me which direction I was to go to reach a land where everybody always smiled and where the sun always shone. I was even prepared to go beyond the seas to a land of golden skies where everyone wore brightly coloured clothing. There were also times when I pleaded with God to come down to Earth to snap each of those 3 necks like a carrot, to relieve me of the physical and mental torture I so often faced. God never granted me any of those wishes, which made me feel that he was on their side. I was too young in those days to know or to understand what self-murder was.

 

It wasn’t all doom and gloom though, because there were lots of people who were really nice to me. There was my Dad, Mr. Wyer (Howards Bikes), Mr. Cooper (Elam’s News), lots of teachers (except one) at school, parents of schoolfriends, and also my many pals around the Hackenthorpe Estate. I cherished them all, girls and boys.

 

The 3 people who made my life a misery, giving me the feeling of a fly caught up in 3 sticky webs were:-

1. MY MOTHER.

2. Mr. Williams – teacher at Birley Spa Junior School

3. Policeman Disney – Estate bobby.

 

1. My Mother:- At times she could be cold and unimpassioned like an inarticulate iceberg, at other times she was like a flaming volcano. She never forgave me for something that happened when I was almost 5 years old, and I wasn’t to blame for it. (Explanation in a later thread called, ‘RAF childhood. Incl. Lindholme’). This born actress knew I wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone, including my Dad and my 2 brothers about her cruelty. She had me well and truly cornered.

 

2. Mr. Williams:- Birley Spa Junior School:- I have already related his treatment of me on another thread, ‘Who remembers being caned at school?’ by Paul 0726. My posts are nrs. 150, 184 and 204. Williams also terrorised 2 other classmates who may not wish to be named. They lived on Spa View and Springwater respectively. One psychological trick Williams pulled on us, was to prevent us from going on the coach on Fridays to swimming lessons at Creswell (?) baths. We 3 were kept in school with a few others who were excused swimming for whatever reason. At going home time I would go to the school toilets to wet my towel and trunks under the tap to convince my parents I had been to swimming lessons.

 

3. Policeman Disney:- Disney was another abuser of power who also took great delight in scaring me and others. He had me in court at Renishaw when I was 10, and again when I was 11 (had myself to blame). He could of let me off with a warning on both occasions, but decided instead to put me through the mangle. I’ve had thick ears from him on a few occasions, and have been dragged home by my collar. The most painful thing he did was smack me around the head with a leather glove. It felt like as if he had a marble in each finger of the glove.

 

During my childhood, my face bore an expression of goodwill to all people, and the thrill of expectancy drove me on to be a natural born adventurer. I would have moved heaven and hell for anybody I liked. I had a nice way with my pals, which went far in retaining their loyalty.

 

Later in life I didn’t ever raise my hand to my son. I am also PROUD that I have never raised my voice or hand against a female. It must be said though, that I have had to count to ten at times. Lol.

 

THE LIPS SMILE, BUT THE HEART WEEPS.

[memari laine]

Zakes, it's a credit to you, to have come through all that, and be the person you are now. Your son must be proud of you. Be proud of yourself too. Oh, and keep writing, you stir many memories for us all on this thread.

Best regards to you, Memari Laine.