Category: nostalgia

Duck Apple Night

Ian HunterLeave a comment

Its that time of year

Pumpkins carved

Homes decorated with spooky figures

Halloween costume parties

Children trick or treating

Bags of candy being handed out

My earliest memories of Halloween are very different

As a child growing up in northern England

There was no trick or treat back then

No constumes

We did not even call it Halloween

It was duck apple night

A large tub filled with water

Apples floating on the surface

We would kneel over the tub, hands behind our back

Trying to capture an apple with our teeth

It was an evening of family fun and we all got soaked

Duck apple or apple bobbing can be traced back to the the Roman invasion of Britain in 55BC

The Romans merged their religious celebrations with Celtic Britain

The apple tree, which was a Roman symbol of plenty (Pomona) was introduced in to Britain

The apple floating in water was used to see if an unmarried person was due to be married


The first person to bite in to the apple would be the next person to be married

Girls who ‘bobbed’ i.e bit in to a floating apple, would place the bitten apple under their pillow to dream of their future lover

What does the word spoon conjure up for you

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A spoon full of sugar

Born with a sliver spoon

Spoon fed

A wooden spoon

Cough medicine

Spooning with somebody

Breakfast cereal 

Feeding a baby

Tea spoon

Coffee spoon

Peanut butter

A baby shovel

Ice cream spoon

A fork without tangs

Lick the spoon

Lost in the dishwasher

Chicken noodle soup

Egg and spoon race

Honey

Knives and forks

A ladle for dieters 

Plastic spoon

Its like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife

Nutella

Uri Geller

Stirring a drink

The loving spoonful band

A greasy spoon cafe

if you are feeling listless

Ian Hunter2 Comments

If you are feeling listless

Make yourself a list

A list of things to do

A list of things to buy

A list of places to go

A list of people to see

A list of things to fix around your home

A list of what you miss most

A list of all your regrets

A list of all the people you have loved

A list of all the people you have hurt

A list of all the people you have lost

A list of all the people who bring you down

A list of all the people you admire

A list of all the people you lust for

A list of all the clever people you know

A list of all the dumb people you wish you had never met

A list of your favorite songs

A list of all the songs you hate

A list of the best TV shows to watch

A list of books you must read

A list of things to pack for your trip

A list of all the things you forgot to take on that trip

A list of all the things you should never have taken on that trip

A list of all the mistakes you made on that trip

A list of all the funny things that happened on that trip

A list of all the random thoughts you had yesterday

A list of all the swear words you use when things are going bad

A list of the languages you want to learn

A list of all the language classes you started but never finished

A list of the times you said nothing instead of apologizing

A list of 

A list of every list you ever wrote

A list of your list lists

Are you still feeling listless?

The battle of Culloden Moor

Ian Hunter6 Comments

As a boy I stood on Culloden Moor  

2000 kilted warriors perished there

My father by my side

A pilgrimage to his Scottish homeland

A rugged raw place

Scotland’s saddest day in 1746

I watched my father shed a tear

Not understanding why

Standing on the grave sites 

It made no sense to me then

Just a bunch of tombstones

My father gave me a history lesson

The last pitch battle on British soil

Scottish highlands fell to English rule

Wearing tartan was subsequently outlawed

Scottish culture was being crushed

Scotsmen remained proud

Their glorious highland landscape

Owned by distant Englishmen 

Never relinquished its stark beauty

Scotland was poor in the 1940’s

My father came south seeking work

Settling near Liverpool 

Shipbuilding supported jobs

Three children later

He remained a proud Scot

taking me to his birthplace

And to that lonely moor

My father has long since left us

I have explored Scotland with vigor 

Walking, fishing, whisky drinking

Inheriting my father’s yearning

I fell in love with the highlands

Proud to wear my clan kilt today

Now I understand why my father cried

Culture survives persecution

RIP Sir Roger Hunt

Ian Hunter2 Comments
Roger Hunt 1938-2021

Roger Hunt passed away this week

he was a legendary goalscorer for Liverpool FC

my boyhood hero back in the 60’s

I watched him score many goals

most of them before the era of TV coverage

if you wanted to see the game live back then

you had to stand in a crowd of 55,000 Liverpudlians

often in cold rainy weather or patchy fog

but the Merseyside climate never dampened our spirit

an electric atmosphere with singing and cheering

the crowd went wild every time Liverpool scored

I get goosebumps just thinking back

today I can watch every Liverpool game live on TV

in the comfort of my own home or a sports bar

usually more than 3,000 miles from Liverpool

I still go crazy every time we score

Roger Hunt was awarded the MBE but Liverpool fans called him Sir

thank you Sir Roger for all the memories

You should never go back expecting things to be exactly the same

Ian Hunter5 Comments

A few years ago

I visited the town in England that I left 25 years ago

the place where I raised my children

I remember them playing in a vibrant neighborhood

curiosity led me to drive by the house I used to own 

it was a not how I remembered it

it used to be a thriving community

the once pristine senior citizens residence was boarded up

there were no young children playing in the street

a landscaped common area was neglected and overgrown

many of the homes were showing signs of neglect

there was an air of decay and despair 

curiosity led me to drive by the local pub

I had spent many happy times there

socializing with friends and celebrating events

it had changed a lot

graffiti adorned every boarded up window and the roof was crumbling

I learned that the business failed many years ago

the local factory that employed most of the town had long since closed

unemployment had taken its toll on the community

nothing was like I remembered

and I had no idea it would change so much when I left there

but I was looking back through rose tinted glasses

and my memories were distorted by the pain of a broken relationship

you should never go back expecting things to be exactly the same

things change with time and go through cycles of regrowth

I have since learned that the site of the old factory has been redeveloped for residential use

new housing has attracted young families

children once again play in the streets

the town lives on

You should never go back

Ian Hunter3 Comments

A few years ago

I visited the town in England that I left 25 years ago

the place where I raised my children

I remember them playing in a vibrant neighborhood

curiosity led me to drive by the house I used to own 

it was a big mistake

it used to be a thriving community

the once pristine senior citizens residence was boarded up

there were no young children playing in the street

a landscaped common area was neglected and overgrown

many of the homes were showing signs of neglect

there was an air of decay and despair 

curiosity led me to drive by the local pub

I had spent many happy times there

socializing with friends and celebrating events

that was another big mistake

graffiti adorned every boarded up window and the roof was crumbling

I learned that the business failed many years ago

the local factory that employed most of the town had long since closed

unemployment had taken its toll on the community

nothing was like I remembered

and I had no idea it would change so much when I left there

better to keep the memories of times gone by

than to shatter them with images of the present

I felt fortunate to have escaped the decay

but sad to have witnessed the ravages of time during my absence

you should never go back

Don’t throw away all the memories

Ian Hunter9 Comments

his wife was complaining about all his stuff in the attic

he reluctantly decided to go through all the old boxes

stuff that had been put away for years

obviously not needed but for some reason never been discarded 

he sifted through the contents of the first small box

a tin box full of foreign coins

memories of his traveling days flooded back

places he had visited on business trips and vacations

images flashed through his mind for each coin he touched

an old watch that no longer worked

it was of no value except it belonged to his father

he wound it up and it started to tick

he could hear his father’s voice again

he missed him so much

a notebook from many years ago

containing wish lists of things to do and places to see

they had written it when first married

he read off each item slowly

pausing to recall the joys of each achieved wish

trying to remember why some never happened

bunches of keys from previous dwellings

he held a front door key tightly

remembering opening that door many years ago

seeing his young children run to greet him

they are grown now with kids of their own

a big old bulky calculator he used in college

reliving the hours he spent solving problems with that

the stressful times of exams

he could remember all those long hours of study

he did find some bits and broken pieces

and a collection of old pens and pencils

he carefully put them in a paper bag

before closing the box

he had removed less than ten percent of the contents

over dinner that night his wife cornered him asking if he had cleaned out everything in the attic as promised

he hesitated before saying he had cleared some of it from one small box

she pushed him harder wanting to know why he was keeping all that junk

he insisted that it might be a small box of stuff but it contained a lifetime of great memories

she could see he was getting upset and gave him a big hug

whispering to him softly “I am so sorry, please keep your boxes full of memories”

he replied “thanks, I did clear some space for us to make a few more memories”

Grand times on Grand Lake

Ian Hunter4 Comments

A modest sized lake

Alongside the tiny town of Presque Ilse

Nestled close to the giant Lake Huron

A few dozen small islands entice exploring kayakers

Early nineteenth century cottages decorate its shores

Frozen in time but aging with grace

Children playing in the safe shallows

Creating memories that run deep

Tracing the footsteps of their great grandparents

Preserving its beauty for future generations

The low sun rests in the early evening

Its time for cocktails on the lawn

Tall glasses sipped and tall tails told

Grand times on Grand Lake

Riding the bus

Ian Hunter3 Comments

on a cold wet Monday morning

she sat by the window on the bus

a wistful look on her face

watching people walk by

mostly rushing to work

none of them smiling

all battling through crowds

the bus lurched in the heavy traffic

she thought back to her childhood days

walking to school down this very same street

she thought about her working days

taking this bus to the office 

every day for forty five years

the bus lurched more 

she closed her eyes

drifted off to sleep

when she woke the sun was shining

her husband was sitting next to her

he winked at her and smiled

she smiled and squeezed his hand

resting her head on his shoulder

she drifted off to sleep again

the bus lurched more and stopped

she was alone on the bus

it was still raining

she got off at the cemetery 

walked to a gravestone

she talked to her long departed husband

hoping he would join her again

on the long bus ride home