One for the West Coast Mafia
- Thread starter Toddy
- Start date
Brilliant
Bet the old blighter lived just for to be thrawn
Mary
I love the word "thrawn" doesn't quite translate with full meaning.
Sums up a lot of folks though
My Grandpa, and my wee brother, for instance
M
My Paternal Grandfather was a total east coast dour Calvanist, always wore a black suit, didn't eat with the others (usually at a seperate time), was a brilliant gardiner & farmer and didn't speak. I can only ever remember him opening his mouth once. He was in his chair by the fire reading and I was as usual poking away at the fire (still do). My lovely but iracible Granny had a go at me for poking the heart out of the fire and my Grandfather spoke! "Leave the boy be, he's fine". I was gobsmacked had never seen nor heard him speak before. I just sat on the floor looking at him, he'd spoken for me, to defend me. My Granny bustled off and he went back to reading. After a while I went back to poking the fire not knowing that that was the one time I'd hear his voice. Loved them both though.
GB
(Goodness reading that back it sounds like something from Ivor Cutlers "Life in a Scots livingroom"
)
I think your Granny and Grandpa would have gotten along fine with mine
Isn't it weird how a few words can create such a picture, and it's so perfectly real ? Unless you've known those people, that life though, it must seem harsh; yet they weren't. Heart and soul we loved them.
I think our Grandpa's thought lots; they didn't need to hear the sound of their own voices to earn respect or be given their place.
I can just see you as a wee boy playing at the fire, wonder whatever happened to the poker now we all have electric? and hear Granny's sharp words. Bet she put the kettle on and made you a bite to eat Big crystal sugar bowl on the white tablecloth and crystal jam jar, teaplates and the teacosy, and the smell of baking and coal fires.
It just breathes 'home', somehow.
I've an awful notion to away and bake
Maybe make honey crisps and cheese scones. They like those
M
Isn't it weird how a few words can create such a picture, and it's so perfectly real ? Unless you've known those people, that life though, it must seem harsh; yet they weren't. Heart and soul we loved them.
I think our Grandpa's thought lots; they didn't need to hear the sound of their own voices to earn respect or be given their place.
I can just see you as a wee boy playing at the fire, wonder whatever happened to the poker now we all have electric? and hear Granny's sharp words. Bet she put the kettle on and made you a bite to eat
Big crystal sugar bowl on the white tablecloth and crystal jam jar, teaplates and the teacosy, and the smell of baking and coal fires.It just breathes 'home', somehow.
I've an awful notion to away and bake
Maybe make honey crisps and cheese scones. They like those
M
Ah Mary you just set out my Grannys table, the house had such a low ceiling that my Grandad had a perpetual stoop as he was a tall man, He used to sit by the fire, reading or just sitting, one side of his face better lit (wee widows in the cottage so not much light) from the fire and the light reflected from the big brass arts and crafts log kist aside him. You could imagine him in a viking hall, ancestry shining through. My granny was tiny, snow white hair up in a bun on the back of her head, with that Granny smell of soap and cooking. Every meal there'd aye be broth (My Grandad's veg garden won him medals). Through in the kitchen there'd be a jug of milk in the pail in the pantry along with other perishibles, no fridge. Out to the garden, massive all around the back door you'd hear the squeeking from the hyacinth leaves as they moved in the breeze. (They grew them for gifts). The rest of the garden was fruit and veg, the patches I was allowed free run of were the peas and the currents. Sitting in the sun, eating peas, pods and all then on to the currents, black, red and white. Juicey and sharp - like the rasps but I wasn't allowed in there. being wee you couldn't see out and your world was a wall of vegitation and smells. Ah for a time machine for another visit.
On this particular trip to France, S2 pupils were staying with French
families who provided them with a packed lunch each day. The kids were
comparing their food when a voice was heard shouting in a broad Dundee
accent from the back of the bus - "Eh've got twa sassidge rolls!" When
told by the Modern Languages teacher in charge of the trip that such
delicacies did not exist in France, he repeated his claim and marched
up to the front of the bus.
His teacher had to point out that his host family had provided him
with two pain au chocolat!
families who provided them with a packed lunch each day. The kids were
comparing their food when a voice was heard shouting in a broad Dundee
accent from the back of the bus - "Eh've got twa sassidge rolls!" When
told by the Modern Languages teacher in charge of the trip that such
delicacies did not exist in France, he repeated his claim and marched
up to the front of the bus.
His teacher had to point out that his host family had provided him
with two pain au chocolat!
Rhubarb, growing as high as I was with leaves as big as a bin lid. Granny kept a toad's nest under them. It was a big old plant pot that was half buried in the mulch. It fed on the slugs and insects in the vegetable garden.
We used to get one of the huge stalks cut into six inch chunks, and a wee poke of sugar, as a treat. Soor and sweet Brilliant. I think we were given that to keep us from knocking down the apples off the tree.
Granny had green fingers, everything grew Grandpa was an engineer and he could make anything.
Only in our minds can we go back though
growing up we thought they were eternal, and were shocked when we saw photos of them as young people. Granny was beautiful a little lady, and Grandpa was a handsome strapping six footer, yet we only knew them as old. They were married for over sixty years.
Sorry, gotten maudlin
David Niven, as a young officer of a Scottish regiment thought he was doing a good thing when he 'acquired' a load of caviar for the rations. Then he heard the grumbling that the jam smelled of fish and tasted gie salty
M
with leaves as big as a bin lid. Granny kept a toad's nest under them. It was a big old plant pot that was half buried in the mulch. It fed on the slugs and insects in the vegetable garden.We used to get one of the huge stalks cut into six inch chunks, and a wee poke of sugar, as a treat. Soor and sweet
Brilliant. I think we were given that to keep us from knocking down the apples off the tree.Granny had green fingers, everything grew
Grandpa was an engineer and he could make anything.Only in our minds can we go back though
growing up we thought they were eternal, and were shocked when we saw photos of them as young people. Granny was beautiful a little lady, and Grandpa was a handsome strapping six footer, yet we only knew them as old. They were married for over sixty years.Sorry, gotten maudlin
David Niven, as a young officer of a Scottish regiment thought he was doing a good thing when he 'acquired' a load of caviar for the rations. Then he heard the grumbling that the jam smelled of fish and tasted gie salty
M
I don't think it's maudlin, just whistfull wishes. All those things that seem wonderfull or strange for the first time. I remeber being really scared standing at the foot of the walls at Doune castle (Yes my father smelled of elderberries) on a really windy day. Don't know where my folks were, but I was pretty young, standing there looking straight up the wall at the clouds scuddin' past up high in the wind. But my little brain percieved it as the walls falling down/moving to crush me and I was off like a shot with my heart thumpin'.
It is strange how old before their time folks looked though. Pictures of my parents and grandparents at the same age as me and you think wow, old. Don't think the Dame Edna/Gary larson glasses helped the ladies though. Never was a forgiving look. But I suppose a lot of them just went from children to married adults, and conforming meant wearing clothes like their folks.
Did like a rhubarb/sugar dab though, real treat.
Did like a rhubarb/sugar dab though, real treat.
This happened on a school trip with a rather well-to-do school from North Ayrshire. At the park the pupils went to see the rabbits and the girl in charge was from a less well-to-do area with a broad Ayrshire drawl.
After she had "telt" them about "wit fid" they ate and "thur" names she asked them if they "wantid tae clap the rabbits"?
The round of applause they received left the poor lass a bit bemused!
After she had "telt" them about "wit fid" they ate and "thur" names she asked them if they "wantid tae clap the rabbits"?
The round of applause they received left the poor lass a bit bemused!
In Port Glasgow two police officers (one male, one female) have occasion to inform a family that their young son is incarcerated at Greenock cop shop. They explain to the father that the presence of a parent would be welcome. The father agrees but asks: "Is it allright if I go for a single fish first?". The lady polis replies: "Listen, this is a very serious mater. We haven't the time to stop at a chip shop."
Rock buns made my Grandma have never been beaten as a quality bun. Sunday afternoons tea at their place. Me knocking my tea over and saucer put beneath the tablecloth. Even watercress isn't as tasty as then. Then was the little room that was my Grandad's workshop where we would make various lethal items with his connivance, blades to bombs.
Tough people too, one time he cut himself badly and I had to find some elastoplast but could only find a very large piece. Nothing daunted he cut it to size, bleeding all the time, by hammering over the edge of his vise.
Tough people too, one time he cut himself badly and I had to find some elastoplast but could only find a very large piece. Nothing daunted he cut it to size, bleeding all the time, by hammering over the edge of his vise.
I like these childhood memory memory streams, yours and Toddys just open up images in the mind. Wonder if it would be worth starting a thread on it. We get to see some of what made us the folk we are today and could be interesting to see what different agegroups remember.
GB
A group of Faslane submariners were discussing the stress of leaving their families for long periods of time. An older, experienced salt told the rest: "You must be sensitive to your wives' emotional needs." And after a pause added "Never, ever whistle while you pack."
Similar threads
