Here's your pillow, go to bed you poetic fellow.
We stood on the bridge at midnight
Throwing snowballs at the moon
I've never had it
She spoke to bloody soon!
Are you reminiscing from the past?
It's high time we resurrected this thread - it is almost like a sacred trust that kicky has handed to us and we must not betray that trust!
So pleased that you have, lets kick(y) on.
What made me think of it was reading another thread, where someone was sledging things Italian. The only response it had elicited was from kicky who, it appeared (and quite understandably so) was a bit miffed by this.
It took me back to my childhood. When I was born, the lady in the bed next to my mother was Mrs Luchetti, the wife of the man who owned the fruit shop at the top of the street where Mum's sister lived (Dad was off at the war and with two horrid monster boys to contend with, Mum was staying with her awaiting the birth of her perfect child). Mrs L had a son on the same day as my arrival.
Growing up, whenever I stayed at my aunt's, it would fall on me to go to the fruit shop. Mrs L would grab me and give me a big hug and tell all and sundry that I was really her little girl, that the nurses had switched the babies at birth, and that she was going to keep me and send Tony (her son) back to my mother. I was petrified that this might happen and begged my mother to tell the police so that if it did happen, they would know to come and rescue me.
I often thought about this and wondered why I was so scared. I think it was because Tony was such a dill (and I might become like him), my mother was not a 'touchy, feelly' type and Mrs L might hug me to death, and most of all because Mr L was such a grumpy old sod I didn't want him for a dad!
When I got older I realised Tony was really all right, just going through an extended snips-n-snails phase; Mrs L was just a lovely, motherly and probably pretty lonely lady who would have loved the company of a daughter and Mr L probably had all the cares of the world on his shoulders (or was just a grumpy old sod).
And all those yummy free fruit and veg I could have had........
Hardly surprising that the thought of being snatched away from your parents occasioned nightmares, Lezz, even if the alternative was wonderful!
Did you have fantasies of being adopted? It's funny how many children did, especially only children, I think. Not especially wonderful fantasies, like being secretly a princess or something, just that you came from some completely different home.
No, I looked too much like members of my father's family to even dream I was adopted!
(Can't you tell? My father and Elle's father were supposedly cousins. If I ever get the urge I must check this out.)
I thought it would be very exotic to be adopted.
I used to search the house for evidence. Papers. Anything.
My uncle, hamburger's older brother, somehow twigged to it when I was about 7 or 8. He kept pointing out the ways I looked like him and hamburger - weird fingers, shape of nose and eyes, crazy hair ... finally had my aunt take a photo of the two of us in profile. Kind of hard to ignore the exactly same shaped noses - exactly. I might have been a foot and a half shorter than he was, at the time, but I could see the resemblance then - and gave up my search.
I was convinced for years that I had fallen out of a bean stalk high in the sky!
Ahh............, that might explain it!
I always had the feeling I was erected, not born.
Nice to see Mame making one of her to infrequent appearances, you must be a busy gal these days, call back again soon.
Hi Tuscany. Other members please welcome this very happy and vivacious young lady, she is a breath of fresh air.
Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon
The little dog laughed to see such fun
And the dish ran away with the spoon!
A marvellous piece of poetry Mathos.
Thank you Dutchy.
Mathos, you're very talented.
You should have that published.