Hi Everyone
One of the joys of approaching middle age is that our day is not greeted with an alarm clock, we do not have to struggle to work in the rush hour traffic and, as winter approaches we can miss the fog and rain if we choose to. As an added bonus a faceless civil servant pays money into our account every four weeks. It is not enough of course but keeps us warm and pays some of the bills. With all that Rubbish in mind, it got me thinking what else I don't miss. My first thought was flatpack, the almost annual visit to that enormous Ikea tin shed where armed with a large bag draped over your shoulder you walk what seemed like three miles gradually filling the bag with things you really didn't need some of which were either broken or given away before you went back a year later to fill another bag. The climax to the visit was firstly the Swedish meatballs which everyone was convinced were lovely but not lovely enough to eat again until a year later and secondly at the end of the long and winding road, the flatpack warehouse where the large bag was joined with a large trolley. Now the challenge was how to cram all the stuff we needed into the car while still taking the children back home with us. Having got the cabinets, bookshelves, bed, etc. it was usually about half an hour to get through the checkout before gazing at the bill in wide eyes amazement saying "How much?". Having resisted the temptation to buy any more meatballs on the way out. then it was back up the motorway with the back of the car much nearer to the ground than on the trip down. Having survived all that, the trauma was just beginning as we spent the next two days shouting at the instructions that we were convinced the Swedes had devised to make us look like idiots. That is something we definitely do not miss anymore.
As a young boy, I had two friends who lived very close to the back of the Fruit, Vegetable.......... shop. One lived 20 yards away and the other 40 yards. At eleven years of age, we all had the opportunity to take the exam to gain entry into the local grammar school or high school as it was known. Two of us passed the exam but my best friend was told by his father that "High school is not for you". Sadly that was the attitude of many fathers at that time. He went on to the senior school where he became head boy as he would easily have passed the exam for the high school. He went on to be an apprentice in the glazing industry where his boss told me that he was the best apprentice he had ever had. The pressure to earn more money took him into the pottery industry where he died thirty years ago from the pottery dust disease which took many lives at that time. I went on to have fifty years in the construction industry and my other friend went on to study sculpture, lithography, and art in London. Although we met occasionally when he came to visit his family, we inevitably lost contact until about two years ago when I found him again on Facebook. This week we met up again for the first time in almost sixty years when he traveled down from his now home in the North East of England. We had a wonderful three hours together with his partner and Dot. He was the youngest of four children and his dad died when he was only three so his mum had a tough time as the social benefits were poor or nonexistent. His mother could easily have said "High school is not for you". Thankfully apparently a friend persuaded her to give him that opportunity. A perfect example of how our parent's situation and ambitions for us shaped our lives all those years ago and, of course, still do now.
Dot, you know the Main Contractor, with her forty years of experience teaching young children, has a theory. She says that the character of a child at five is the same as the character of that child if he or she is fortunate enough to reach 85. Now that is certainly true of my friend that we met again this week. I have never however asked the Main Contractor if that theory applies to me as I am not sure whether I want to hear the answer.
Just a Thought:
Going into my son's room is the same as going to Ikea. You go in just to see what's new and come out with 10 plates, 3 cups, and a pair of socks.
My best friends and I played hide and seek, It went on for hours. Well, good friends are hard to find.
It is hard to find a friend who is cute, loving, generous, and smart. My advice to you all is, don't lose me.
Brian
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