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Post by kerouac2 on Apr 17, 2021 12:42:31 GMT
I have no memory of the first car I rode in, but I know it was a Kaiser and not a new one either.
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Post by mickthecactus on Apr 17, 2021 12:44:40 GMT
That’s clever Mark but it was white not red.
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Post by onlyMark on Apr 17, 2021 16:35:01 GMT
Mick, that info is direct from the DVLA website. It may be that the colour was changed. I had an MGB GT and a MGB Midget (UAC 351G), both were not the original colour and the Midget had it changed yet again by the new owner. Rover SD1 - DUY 887W.
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Post by fumobici on Apr 17, 2021 17:45:48 GMT
First car I remember was an old black pre-war Citroën roadster my father began restoring before I was yet born and finished about the time I started school. His father owned a Ford dealership in Elk Grove, California so the real cars were always Fords.
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Post by cheerypeabrain on Apr 17, 2021 18:11:42 GMT
I can remember the number of the first telephone my Parents had when I was little (5 yo)...we were the only family on the street with a phone so all the neighbours would come round to use it..often not offering to contribute the customary 2d cost...it used to upset my Mother as we were all working class families and she had 6 children to feed! I can't remember any subsequent phone numbers...altho I remember the extension numbers of the labs at the three hospitals I used to work in..and several of the wards altho they may have changed in the 4 years since I retired. Now I sometimes struggle to remember my own landline number...yet my son can reel off several mobile phone numbers with ease.
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Post by mickthecactus on Apr 17, 2021 18:16:43 GMT
Amazing that the MGB was still around in 2004. Must have had the colour changed as you say Mark. It had a clutch problem though as it had 2 springs and occasionally one would break and Dad had to nurse it to the garage for repair.
First telephone number was Palmers Green 0584.
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Post by kerouac2 on Apr 17, 2021 18:37:17 GMT
I can remember the nuber of the first telephone my Parents had I also remember the phone number of my early years -- 863-6424. I don't remember any other telephone numbers of the past.
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Post by bjd on Apr 17, 2021 19:29:11 GMT
I remember our old phone number in Manchester: Rusholme 5662. Like at Cheery's, neighbours used to come around to use the phone since not many people had one.
I can often remember landline numbers but having other people's cell phone numbers in my phone makes my brain really lazy about them and the only one I remember is my own.
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Post by kerouac2 on Apr 23, 2021 18:19:26 GMT
I was happy to visit the Kennedy Space Center about 25 years ago even though nothing was happening. Those buildings were BIG! I don't recall taking any photos there. I still plan to visit the ESA space centre in French Guiana one of these days because I have always been fascinated by the space programmes.
The television channels devoted a lot of time to the launch today since "our" astronaut Thomas Pesquet was going up for the second time and he is going to be in charge of the ISS for the next six months. I can't really really imagine what "being in charge" means since I'm sure that everybody knows every detail of their mission already. I suppose he may have to make some decisions if the ISS starts falling apart.
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Post by questa on Apr 24, 2021 0:53:14 GMT
Amazing that the MGB was still around in 2004. Must have had the colour changed as you say Mark. It had a clutch problem though as it had 2 springs and occasionally one would break and Dad had to nurse it to the garage for repair. I had a MGB 67 model. First model to have 5 bearing crank shaft, push button door handles and wire wheels standard, but before reversing lights. Colour Champion red. Had a bad habit of overheating in slow traffic and screaming like a steam whistle, much to my embarrassment. Have to take a quick exit onto a side road and let it cool down before re-joining the stop-start queue again. Later it developed a trick of stalling as I waited to complete a turn. The fly wheel would jam and I would have to get out and retrieve a hammer ( which I carried for the purpose)and give the flywheel a healthy couple of bangs. Usually it started after that.
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Post by questa on Apr 24, 2021 6:04:20 GMT
1952 we had a phone installed. Dad was Shire President and Mum had a Real Estate business but all they got was a shared line with a neighbour 3 doors down. Many times we kids had to run down the road and tell them we were expecting an important call, so hang up, please. Total lack of privacy of course. Neighbour would have had access to the workings of Council and Developers...information that today would be priceless. # was LB 5735
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Post by kerouac2 on Jul 21, 2021 16:22:24 GMT
When I was little, my brother and I would have balloons from time to time, rarely of the helium kind but more often the normal ones tied to a stick or not even that. Of course we enjoyed having them, but we also feared them in case they burst unexpectedly. I may be mistaken, but I think that balloons were even more fragile in olden times. Once we got home, we would have a sort of balloon popping ceremony, our way of taking control of the situation instead of having them pop unexpectedly in our faces. I was still young enough that I risked bursting into tears at such an event. My mother would get a pin for us. We would pop our balloons in turn, which was terrifying but which gave us an element of control over the bad things of life. I'm sure that I always flinched, but it was over quickly.
And life went on, balloonless.
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Post by casimira on Sept 13, 2021 15:28:19 GMT
While culling through some items at our house, upstairs, where there is a lot of rubble, I saw some things that were underneath other items clearly not worth salvaging. Among them was a large leather satchel that I remember I had frantically stuffed as we were getting ready to take when we evacuated for Hurricane Katrina, many papers; mostly documents , some photos and other papers that were important at that time. Among them was a duplicate of my birth certificate, our marriage certificate, T's Social Security card and my mother's will.
Beneath another pile were some books. One was a copy of Tom Robbin's "Another Roadside Attraction". It was the very first gift that my husband had given me. It was in the early weeks our of budding relationship. It was 1978 and I was living in a fabulous house with two other women. It was my 25th birthday and I had a huge party with a very eclectic variety of guests. The owner of the local saloon where many of us were regulars donated a half of a keg of beer.
What stands out in my memory is one of my dearest friends wearing a elegant yellow chiffon dress and how beautiful she looked. It highlighted her complexion and most especially her hair, thick black curly tresses. I also remember one of the guests was a musician and at one point he sat down and played a wide repertoire of songs. The party lasted until the wee hours and a good time was had by all.
Sadly, T. wasn't able to attend the party because he had just started a new job and was working offshore on an oil rig. He gave me the book the day before he left and his inscription in it. The discovery of this book was so special because it brought back a flood of a very special time and wonderful memories.
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Post by kerouac2 on Sept 13, 2021 15:50:04 GMT
I'm sure the other memories are nice, but I am particularly happy that you found the leather satchel again.
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Post by kerouac2 on Oct 1, 2021 15:29:10 GMT
Whenever my family came to France when I was little, one of those most amazing things were the clocks in everybody's home. Actually, it was not so much the clocks but the chimes. Most clocks, including in my grandparents' house would chime every 15 minutes, and of course on the hour there would be sometimes full Westminster chimes before chiming the hours. My grandparents, my great aunts and uncles, various family friends, all had these clocks and hearing them all the time was part of life. I recall that my grandparents had set the chimes to stop between something like 22:00 and 07:00, but my great aunt and uncle in Xanrey let the clocks chime all night. This was probably because the village church chimed all night as well, so it didn't make much difference. I cannot count the number of nights that I would lie awake in bed (often due to jetlag) and it would seem that I heard every single hour all though the night, although that is obviously not true. Of course local people just filter out all such sounds and don't notice them at all, pretty much like I almost never hear sirens in Paris even though they wail 50 times a day on my street.
Those chimes were nevertheless a treasured part of my early years, and I regret not hearing them anymore.
Did anybody else here experience this?
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Post by onlyMark on Oct 1, 2021 17:59:30 GMT
All we could afford was a stick in the ground we used as a sundial. Never made a noise.
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Post by mich64 on Oct 1, 2021 18:46:57 GMT
Did anybody else here experience this? Yes, I did. The summers when we were able to visit my dad's family in London. My grandmother and my aunts all had beautiful clocks that chimed every fifteen minutes and on the hour, I loved listening to them. I only remember our churches where I live use the bells for Sunday mass, Christmas, Easter and weddings but I have not lived near a church in over 25 years so I will have to ask my city friends about that. We absolutely adored waking up to church bells when we have been on holiday in Europe and liked hearing them all day!
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Post by lugg on Oct 1, 2021 19:34:00 GMT
The discovery of this book was so special because it brought back a flood of a very special time and wonderful memories. Really enjoyed reading about your 25th birthday Casimira. Clocks , chimes and ticks also stand out in my memories ...mostly because I recognise now that generally they don't feature in many homes, certainly not in the younger generations in my family. I really ... missed it during Covid , but the bells are ringing again in my local church during practice and for any ceremonies there. We absolutely adored waking up to church bells when we have been on holiday in Europe and liked hearing them all day! We absolutely adored waking up to church bells when we have been on holiday in Europe and liked hearing them all day! Off at a tangent but your memory reminded me how much I loved getting up early and hearing the call to prayer whilst on holiday in various countries.
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Post by kerouac2 on Oct 1, 2021 20:15:30 GMT
Yes, I think a few of us have always found the call to prayer around dawn amazing. Of course, having spent too much time in Saudi Arabia, I found it less amazing in the middle of the day when the religious police would hit the shopkeepers with sticks if they did not close up quickly enough for prayer time.
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Post by bixaorellana on Oct 1, 2021 22:13:37 GMT
Wow. I just now read up the page & finally saw that memory. Whew!!! and also Was the pianist Andrew Hall? The only place I've ever been where that was a feature (so to speak) was Istanbul. I would freeze in place and listen to it each and every time.
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Post by onlyMark on Oct 2, 2021 6:41:40 GMT
I'm still hearing it every day.
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Post by casimira on Oct 2, 2021 15:25:18 GMT
Yes Bixa, it was Andrew Hall who played the piano at the party. And, of course you know who I was referring to in the yellow chiffon dress. It's a very vivid memory etched in my memory bank.
And, I did the same when I was in Istanbul and would hear the call to prayer. There was a mosque very close to where I and my travel companion stayed. I would awaken to the sound of it each morning and it prompted me to get up and take a long walk along the Sea of Marmara before going to my favorite cafe where I would be the only customer as it was still quite early. There was a waiter there who would share with me places to visit that were off the beaten path (the church in Chora among other places).
My travel companion on the other hand hated the call to prayer and was not an early riser. She kept her windows closed and the AC running. By mid morning she would awaken and some days we would do some things together. Other days we would go our separate ways and meet up at some point later in the day. All this was fine by me as I wanted to take advantage of every waking moment to explore as much of the city and its surroundings as I could.
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Post by kerouac2 on Oct 2, 2021 16:06:42 GMT
I am incapable of travelling with late risers.
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Post by whatagain on Oct 2, 2021 16:13:34 GMT
There were clocks at my grandp' house. I hated them. Now, it soothes me.
I don't remember being wiken up by the Muezzin but in Myanmar there were a lot of religious celebrations and the monks would sing/recite stories all night long. In a loudspeaker of course. Grrrr.
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Post by mossie on Oct 3, 2021 9:39:26 GMT
The old film "Battle of Britain" was on the box last night, although I had seen it before I watched most of it again.
Of course it brought back strong memories, I was brought upon in East Kent, where the Battle was principally fought over. One of my early memories as an 8 year old, of this time is of sitting on our living room floor playing with my brother after lunch on a Sunday, while my parents were washing up in the kitchen. Suddenly there was a coarse whistling sound and my father yelled at us to lay down. Immediately came a large explosion and the rumble of an aircraft crossing over our roof. I had not done as told but the shock laid me down. A German bomber had dropped a string of bombs along the back road that we lived in, the largest had fallen about 90 yards away from us on the open field, but the second had struck the kennels of the local foxhounds, killing some, and releasing the rest who rushed terrified through the village. Two more bombs landed in the back gardens of the houses immediately each side of the house where my youngest uncle lived with our ancient grandmother, the final one landed where this road met the main road into the village and cut the water main as well as bringing down the electricity supply. Luckily no-one was killed and there were only minor injuries as far as I know. This resulted in my uncle coming to live with us while Granny went to live with another daughter near Birmingham.
We had been brought up with the mantra that "the only good German is a dead one", sorry Nikita. The Jerries had a selection of bombers to choose from, Heinkels Dorniers and Junkers, so when the Germans took charge of the EU with a drunken buffoon called Junkers in charge it was no contest for me at referendum time.
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Post by kerouac2 on Oct 3, 2021 11:16:26 GMT
But Jean-Claude Juncker isn't German.
Anyway, your first hand experience with the Battle of Britain sounds much more exciting than the movie.
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Post by questa on Oct 3, 2021 13:29:12 GMT
When I was in Lombok my little cottage was in the centre of a ring of 5 small mosques, each about 700m from my place. Every morning each would sound the call and I would lie there picking out the voices I knew, or who has a cold or ran late and is calling extra fast to catch up. I missed that few moments of calm before the work storm when I returned home.
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Post by casimira on Oct 5, 2021 16:51:27 GMT
Last evening I was going through some old cigar boxes that I used to keep to put photos, notes and cards. Most of the boxes were lost in the fire but, 3 or 4 of them had survived.
There were some photos that brought back fond memories.
Then I saw a small, very worn followed up piece of paper. As soon as I went to open, I realized what it was.
Back in the late 1980's when I was working in an inpatient clinical psychiatry unit as a social worker, working mostly with families. The patient population was both adolescent and young adults. I was assigned to work with the mother and father of a young woman who was bi-polar. She was an incredibly bright, intelligent woman who was hospitalized for being suicidal. Her parents were divorced and my sessions with them were iced with hostility and they rarely if ever agreed on anything regarding their daughter. The young woman patient on the other hand was cooperative and a pleasure to work with in our individual sessions.
While she was in a manic phase she made the decision to "sign herself out" which is a process the patient has to fill out and it gives the attending psychiatrist and treatment staff 72 hours to give their recommendation as to whether the patient is a danger to their self or others. During the 72 hour period a court date is scheduled and all the involved parties appear before a judge with each individual (mother, father, daughter, treating psychiatrist and social worker). Each person is given the opportunity to give their impressions and recommendation as to the mental state of the patient.
The father stated that he felt his daughter was lucid and competent and posed no danger to herself or others. The mother on the other hand disagreed and thought that her daughter needed further treatment and comply with a medication regimen. The treatment team concurred. Then, it was the patients turn to present her case. During her testimony and answering a series of questions from the residing judge, she presented herself as lucid, intelligent and insightful with no signs of being manic (which she was at the time but, kept it under control). The judge had several other questions to ask each of us. He then made his decision that she was competent enough to not have to be committed. We were completely in shock although, I have to admit she put on a very convincing "show".
About a week to ten days later after I was leaving work there was a note on my steering wheel which read: "Dear C.,Thank you for all your help, I needed it. I'm going back. They give me a bed there you know.. See you in the next life. Love, MB" I sat there in the car crying my eyes out and then went inside the unit to seek out the psychiatrist that had worked with me with her. He had not heard the news yet and proceeded to call the mother to get verification that MB had indeed taken her life by shooting herself in the head. We both cried and then he told me that he had been through this before (having practiced psychiatry for 25 or more years). This one, he admitted was likely the most difficult he had ever experienced.
I had not realized that I had saved the note she left for me until I saw the folded up piece of paper in the box.
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Post by mich64 on Oct 5, 2021 17:18:06 GMT
It is very sad how this ended so tragcially for this young woman Casimira. The very best of intentions of professionals like yourself are greatly appreciated in every situation. I admire those who have the education/skills and make it their purpose to help those in need.
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Post by bixaorellana on Oct 5, 2021 17:29:23 GMT
Gosh, Casimira -- opening that note released a flood of very sad memory for you. I suppose the saving grace for the professionals involved was the fact that you had all done your best, although cold comfort when considering the outcome.
Hope this question isn't making that memory even more painful, but I don't understand how you knew that what she wrote was a goodbye note.
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