Category: memories

Soap on a rope relegated to a gag gift

Ian Hunter1 Comment

do you remember back in the day

when we only had bar soap in the shower

a fresh bar was the always best

refreshingly dry and clean for that first shower

then left on a wet soap dish it soon became soggy

especially in households who shared a shower between multiple occupants

you never knew what might be lurking in that soggy soap bar

occasionally there would be some nasty grit embedded in the bar

which you only detected after almost lacerating your flesh while lathering

soggy soap was so hard to grip and would jump to the floor

it had a mind of its own and was hell bent on escaping

forcing you to rummage around the base of the shower or tub 

the bar would get dented and misshaped during its frequent spills

then back in the 70s somebody invited soap on a rope

you could wrap the rope around you wrist and never drop the bar again

hanging it up between showers to let it dry naturally

it was the most brilliant invention

no more slips in the shower picking up dropped bars

but the soap on a rope boom imploded 

when shower gels and body wash came along

these are far more hygienic and easier to use

I was thinking of gifting some friends soap on a rope

showering could bring back memories from a forgotten era

however I learned just in time before purchasing

that soap on a rope has become a popular cult gag gift

for the person whose activities are bordering on illegal

and might soon need that soap on a rope

to avoid them bending over in the prison shower to pick up lost soap

the craic

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I took a can of cold Guinness from the fridge today

I pulled open the ring

there was a loud woosh

a widget in the can

released tiny bubbles of nitrogen into the beer

after waiting a few moments

I poured the famous Irish stout into a tilted glass

the dark beer swirled around the sides

once vertical the bubbles rose up

reaching the surface to form a smooth creamy head

the first sip brought back memories of the Emerald Isle

drinking Guinness with the locals in a village pub

chatting intensely about everything in life

this lively bar discussion in Ireland is called the crack

the true Gaelic word is craic 

but it does not translate well

because you really have to be in Ireland to experience the craic

I remember walking into a bar in small Irish town and ordering a Guinness 

a local chap next of me asked where I was from

Liverpool I answered 

ah me brother Michael lives there do you know him he enquired

I hesitated to tell him there are over a million people in the city and the suburbs

so I decided to enjoy the craic and replied with

I might do is he a tall fellow with red hair

the Guinness flowed freely for the rest of that evening

Newspaper delivery boy

Ian Hunter4 Comments

When I was young I delivered newspapers

Carried in a bag over my shoulder

I rode a big yellow bicycle

Early mornings before school

The storekeeper wrote the house number on each paper

Arranging them in delivery sequence

I took the exact same route daily

To make sure everybody got the right paper

Houses in England have a flap in the front door

For delivery of mail and newspapers

Weekdays they slid in easily

But those fat Sunday editions would jam in the flap

Some homeowners were so nice

Meeting me at their open door

With a smile and cookie

Thanking me daily

Others were mean and grumpy

You ripped my newspaper

Why are you always late

You left my gate open again

Dogs were a challenge

Some of them were friendly

Others wanted to attack

You had to learn the hard way

I got soaked when it rained

That bag would get so heavy

Mud splattered my clothes

I got tired pedaling so far

Posh houses were the worst

Their kids would make fun of me

From inside their warm houses

I wiped extra mud on their newspapers

It was hard work and low pay

I was happy to earn small change then

Early mornings you can still see me bike riding today

But I only carry memories around now

Remember remember the 5th of November

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Bonfire night

There were two special days in my childhood

Christmas day because of all the presents

Bonfire night on November 5th with fireworks

There was much anticipation for both days

But much more action leading up to bonfire night

First a bit of history for those of you who were not born in the UK

In 1605 England was ruled by the Protestant King James VI

Catholics were oppressed and a small group decided to overthrow the monarchy

Their plan was to blow up Parliament and kill the King

Gunpowder barrels were smuggled into vaults beneath the houses of parliament

Their plot was leaked to the authorities who searched the building

Guy Fawkes was guarding the gunpowder barrels and was arrested on November 5th

He was tortured to reveal the names of his conspirators

They were rounded up and executed for high treason

The King pronounced that bonfires be lit all over the land to remember that Guy Fawkes had failed to blow up parliament

So fast forward about 360 years later

The tradition of lighting bonfires on November 5th lived on

My gang of kids spent weeks collecting wood and anything else combustable

It was hidden to stop rival gangs stealing it

We stuffed old clothes with straw to make an effigy of Guy Fawkes

We wheeled him around town shouting “penny for the guy”

The cash was spent on fireworks

A few days before November 5th we would start to build our bonfire on waste ground in our ‘hood’

Somebody had to stand guard to prevent rival gangs from stealing our bonfire material

If left unattended it would disappear in an instant

The bonfire pile would grow bigger on the day by donations from families in our street

The final thing put on the bonfire pile was our Guy Fawkes

To be burned ceremonially on the evening of November 5th

Fireworks were lit to fill the sky with sparks

Not an organized firework display

Just a bunch of kids setting them off randomly

Its a miracle we did not blow each other up

We would all sing around the bonfire

Remember remember the 5th of November

how to unlock distant memories

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It is time to do a serious declutter

Get rid of things we no longer use

Discard things we no longer need

Let go of things we no longer want

I am in my home office going through old papers

Its a no brainer to throw away really old documents

But I still have to look at every page

Decide if it can be simply thrown away

Or put it aside for secure shredding

Some things I must surely keep though

It becomes a monotonous routine of look and sort

Then all of a sudden something special happens

I read a document that I have kept for over 25 years

Memories start flooding back uncontrollably

I am transported to a different place and time

I can see the faces and hear the voices from back then

Reliving those events through a vivid movie in my mind

That document goes into the keep pile

I stumble upon a bunch of external drives

Cryptic labels tell me they contain photos

Without any specifics of what they might be

I hurriedly plug one of them into the laptop

Its an electronic time capsule waiting to be opened

A few clicks and the drive reveals its contents

Discovering images from decades ago

Some of them are scanned versions of very old family photographs 

I am plunged back well into the last century

Each click reveals more forgotten images

Its a welcome break from sifting through old papers

I reflect upon all the things I have done in my lifetime

Places I have been and people I have interacted with

I realize that many of my memories have been put into cold storage

It only takes a few pieces of paper and some photos to extract them

I decide to be prudent in what I throw away from now on

Not that these things are of any real sentimental value

They are however the keys to unlock special memories

Keys that cannot be reproduced if lost

I am going to safeguard those keys for the rest of my life

Wild memories

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I bought strawberries 

from a farm stand

bright red ripe fruit

that first bite

brought back memories

of my childhood

picking wild strawberries

one for the basket

two for me

sweet taste of summer

I was a hunter gatherer

foraging for food

in the warm afternoon sun

dirt under my fingernails

leaves in my hair

red stains on my shirt

I was a wild child 

wild strawberries

wild summer days

wild memories

Movie memories

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I just watched the latest Avatar movie

The theatre had reclining seats and a button to order food and drinks

A wide selection of hot and cold food, cocktails and wine

Special effects and 3D make the movie stand out as ultra modern

But the story line was not new

Bad guys chasing good guys

The Avator forest people rode flying dragons

Families under threat

Kids disobeying parents to join the fight

Plenty of modern weapons in the fight scenes

Interestingly the animated forest people also used bows and arrows

When the main characters ran out of machine gun ammunition

They resorted to an old fashioned fist fight

It reminded me of the first movies I went to see as a child

Saturday morning matinees in the local cinema

We called it the flea pit

Crackly projection movies

With Indians chasing cowboys

There was no 3D back then

Nor could you order food and drink from your seat

You had to buy snacks from a lady holding a big tray near the front

You could buy either chocolates or orange juice

But the story line was the same

The Indians rode horses back then

Arrows flew into bad guys

The heroes had a good fist fight to win

The story lines have never changed much over time

The movie theatre menus have evolved though

Every twenty years or so

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Wondering where to eat last night

Somebody suggested a Japanese steak house

Something I had not done for twenty years

It was almost full on arrival

They squeezed us in at one corner

Nine hungry faces on three sides

A shiny hot plate in the middle

A waiter took our orders

I chose chicken and shrimp

We smiled and nodded at our neighbors

Sipping cold sake and waiting for the show

The chef wheeled in a cart piled high with food

He verified the order for each person

Before performing a juggling act

With a pair of very sharp knives

We were all waiting for a severed finger to drop onto the hot plate

Thankfully that never happened

Next he squirted a pool of oil and ignited it with a lighter

A huge fireball shot up into the vent hood over the table

Everybody checked their eyebrows

He brought out some raw eggs for more juggling

Smashing each one ceremoniously

They sizzled and hissed as he chopped and mixed

Beating a rhythm into the food

The eggs cooked fast

Boiled white rice was dumped over the eggs

More oil and butter was added

Finally a squirt of soy sauce

Moving every grain of rice in a beating blur

Piling each portion onto the side of a cleaver

Expertly launching fried rice onto each plate

We all smiled in appreciation

As the steak, chicken, prawns and scallops danced on the searing hot plate

The razor sharp knife reduced the slices of meat into bite size chunks

Added to our plates alongside the rice

A mountain of vegetable filled the hotplate

Slicing and dicing as they shrunk into an oily hot lake

An onion was expertly sliced into rings

Reassembled into a volcano

Filled with oil and lit for the finale

Flames erupted from the top

Applause erupted too

The show was over

It was time to eat

The food was delicious

Nobody seemed to mind being splashed with soy sauce and fried rice

When we got home our clothes reeked of fried oil

A pungent reminder of an unforgettable meal

I might go again, perhaps twenty years from now

I am in jolly old England

Ian Hunter2 Comments

I woke up early on this Sunday morning

It is almost the end of May

Clear blue skies over the English countryside

The sun is rising over the Downs

Casting long shadows over the English garden patio

The vegetable garden is basking in the warm English sunshine

Growing season is upon us

You can almost see the leaves expanding

Birds line up at the bird feeders

Grateful for their free English breakfast

Birdsongs fill the air

Doves are gently cooing

Others chirping and tweeting

While most folks are still sleeping

Tall hedgerows border the very English manicured lawns

Providing a welcome home for English wildlife

Flowering plants and shrubs abound

The quintessential English country garden

Painted around a beautiful English country house

Close to a small English village

With a typical English village green

Where white clothed English gentlemen

Play the English game of cricket

On sunny English afternoons

The sound of leather hitting willow

Followed by civilized English applause

From the warm-beer sipping English spectators

Brings back fond memories

I am in jolly old England

Beach Day

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Beach day

At day at the beach planned

Picnic basket prepared

Towels and sunscreen packed

Beach chairs and umbrellas ready

Load up the car and go

Kids bursting with excitement

Parking a short walk from the beach

Dad does the heavy lifting

The kids carrying buckets and spades

Finding the perfect spot

Setting up the umbrella for shade

A stiff breeze off the ocean

Kids playing in the sand

Time for a nap in the beach chair

A few hours later everybody is hungry

Time to break out the picnic

The wind is blowing harder

But we are still having fun

I am handed a plate of food

Fresh sandwiches and cake

It looks very appetizing

I am salivating in anticipation

I bite into the sandwich

Horror of horrors it tastes gritty

Sand blown all over my sandwich

I try to wipe it off to no avail

Sand is blowing everywhere

Its in my eyes now too

Time to abandon the beach day

The kids complain about leaving

Heavy traffic all the way home

The kids start fighting in the car

Arrive home tired and grumpy

Sand is traipsed through the house

I jump in the shower and scrub

A large pool of sand forms on the shower floor

It refuses to wash into the drain

Why did I ever think beach days were fun