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Cars that you were never sure would start. I can't get on with these new-fangled cars that turn the engine off at traffic lights etc, I'm convinced it won't start next time...
Oh how I (don't) miss the morning engine churning in winter of my dad trying to start his Ford Contina. Churn, churn, bonnet up, fiddling about, bonnet down, churn, churn, repeat and rinse until battery flat.....
That explains so much!
Poor little SAS was bullied at school. Not only that but his parents and teachers didn't care.
I have always pictured SAS as a sad little loser taking out his frustration on the world as a internet Keyboard Warrior... now I know it to be true it is bitter sweet as one of the causes was being bullied as a child.
The saddest part is that SAS and Suity are so similar - the real difference being Suity despite still being a victim of bullying maintains an unquenchable optimism where as SAS is 100% sad through and through.
I got picked on beacause I wore glasses.
Took me until I was 16 until I finally manned up.
We was all queueing up to get in to Romeo & Juliets & this gang of blokes pushses in front of us and one of them is coming at me with a load of lip so I just tw@tted him & he ended up sparko on the ground.
The split second that followed the punch seemed like a lifetime.
The bloke on the floor and his mates were looking at me like they can't believe I just done that. My mate Tony's looking at me like he can't believe I just done that. Even the bouncers are looking at me like they can't believe I just done that.
Nobody ever called me greenfly again as I got myself a reputation of a bit of a nutter after that incident & people tend to be careful what they say around me these days as they never know when I'm going to start windmilling.
Ice on the inside of the bedroom windows. It must have had a positive effect on me as I always have my bedroom windows open these days, no matter how cold it is outside.
No central heating and just one awful solid fuel stove in the sitting room. It supposedly had a back-boiler on it but it didn't seem to work.
Milkmen.
Paper rounds.
Walking or cycling miles to school, on my own. Didn't need an adult to show me the way, and certainly didn't need a "walking bus" FFS.
When I was seven my mum started doing teacher training and my siblings and I became latchkey kids, and there was no one home to receive the bread. So the breadman would leave it with the next-door-but-one neighbour, and the first one of us home would go and collect it from them.
A couple of jam butties made with fresh Wonderloaf, and Blue Peter in 405 black-and-white lines. Those were the days
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