Thanks for sharing that story with us Ivan, really enjoyed reading it a lot. I can see your kids telling your grandkids about the day Dad brought the family fire bucket home. You can't buy something like that no matter how much money you have.
Wow! Seems i am not the only sentimental old sod on here! It had been something on my mind for a while, ever since a conversation around the fire some months ago, where the question arose, of when was your first memory of camping? And obviously this was mine.
The farmer was, most receptive, although needed his memory jogging, and once i had used my diplomatic skils, was ok. i can honestly say that, i struggle to remember what i did yesterday! But the memory of that episode was quite clear.
I wandered around up there for about 1/2 an hour until i found the digger bucket, and boy did the emotion flood, i now don't mind telling you i burst into tears, and took a good 5 minutes to compose myself, and the whole weekend was a bit subdued and pensive.
But, one of those, life's natural highs, and i am so glad i went, and also posted now.
Thankyou, you great people, for not ridiculing me and helping me, with, what has been a difficult year.
On another note, for those of you that asked, my mum has had her operation, and is doing fine (boy i wish, i was half as tough as her) And i am now pretty much a full time carer ( only don't tell her!)
thx for that Ivan,
a quote from my great granddad who left a leg somewhere during WW1, "sometimes in life son, you have to swim through the **** to get to the bathtub!" must be well over 40yr ago he told me that on his allotment
Your tale is wonderful and reminded me of my own youth and the passing of my father when I was 15. Will need to get in touch and try to spend a camp weekend together. Will tell you my tale then. And yes it left me with a few tears or maybe it was just some dust. Good luck buddy and stay in touch.
That is a great tale
I find the Great Outdoors the best place to deal with loss : when my mother died suddenly of a stroke (Looooooooooong time ago now) I went up to Snowdonia and wandered the hills for a week with minimum kit (ie a poly survival bag - no tent) and I came back sorted out.
When my father died some years later I was not in a position to get away and I ended up in a bad place emotionally.
It must be great to have that bucket as a "think piece"
Thank you for providing one of the most beautiful pieces of writing that this forum has ever experienced. Something that many of us can relate to, and can understand a little better because of you sharing your experience. Even over here in Alberta I could feel the emotion and importance of this story.
Now for you other folks, you have provided an entirely new way to explain the funny feeling in the back of eyes. I suppose that this story has also caused this silly old sot to go all maudlin as well.
You've shared the story with me around a fire before but it was great to see the pictures and make a connection. It's great the old boy was still there and remembered you, must have been special for you.
Whoo Hoo! Been up to the farm today, and dug the bucket out, brought the old girl home and she is in the garden, a bit tatty but it has been buried for 37 years! And a lot smaller than i remember, still i am chuffed to bits and can't wait to light a fire in her and cook some dinner.