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Blog Comments

  1. Diversion's Avatar
    My mum always hated the thing, and no-one in my family rode... for me it was getting in with 'the wrong crowd' but mum loved them. The guys were respectful and looked after me when we went out. Two guys from that era - i was 14 when I started hanging with the 'field' - are still like my big bruvs today...and both still ride.

    Despite hating the bike my mum appreciates that I have had a fab life because of it...all down to RB and Blondie in the beginning, but also a myriad of others that still count as my friends...

    I am not sure about the 'risk' attitude... but nothing compares to a sense of freedom on the bike - and no-one knows i am a girl - well, until they have ridden behind me for more than 3 mins lolol.

    I think myself very lucky with the friends i have found... who's to say with a different choice maybe the suited and booted would have been fun, but tbh, i wouldn't chnage a minute (well, okay, maybe a few but hey ho!
  2. Editor's Avatar
    riceburner recently suggested that perhaps one of the common denominators was our attitude to risk. I think there might well be something in that, seeing as it was only when I was 15-17 when my mates had bikes & I only myself came to it properly some 15 years plus later. OTOH I can clearly remember a ferry trip to france as a nipper & looking almost in awe at the big bikes loaded up for the long haul & them having all the fun in the bar. And the gorgeous girlie who gently dropped her black CB750 coming out of a car park & the wheelie meister down the strip during the evening by seaside. Ooh la la!
  3. knee_boarder's Avatar
    You ain't wrong FD
  4. Zanx's Avatar
    Tesco Wisbech is awsome, it's where I go to feel like a beautiful golden princess, by comparison.

    Maybe you should take up shooting rats, breaks up into half hour lumps between murders while the little squealers get their mojo back.
  5. Editor's Avatar
    bloody power surge just ate my reply. BBL-got to go & do my lot right now. But what they said in essence.

    Actually the real nub is those 15 hour shifts. They're so bad for one-been there & done them & it very nearly killed me.
  6. fazerdaze's Avatar
    It's long hours, but not every day
  7. KorkyKat's Avatar
    Fifteen hours is a very long time plus the time you would spend sleeping. I always kept two dogs so they would have the company of each other but I didn't work such long hours.

    I still miss my two.
  8. stickysidedown's Avatar
    I understand your feelings about it, I miss having a dog every day, literally every day, but dogs are hugely social creatures and I wouldn't have another unless I could be sure my conditions looked settled for the dogs lifespan and that such a lifestyle could include the amount of social interaction that would be fair to the dog.

    even a standard 8hrs is too long, though I used to keep two dogs and I think that was helpful for them, though I was also glad of a friendly neighbour who they trained to feed them the odd biscuit and talk to them over the fence as he worked from home.
  9. fazerdaze's Avatar
    Three months along .. lots of waiting on the weather, but the greenhouse frame is finally built and secured
    This morning I went to spray the fence with Cuprinol as once the glass is in I'll not be able to get near it again, and the gasket failed on the sprayer. Luckily I have oodles of paintbrushes! Two hours later found some slate to pack under the greenhouse to square it up, ready to fix it in place . . . then found I didn't have a single drill bit that would touch the concrete base , so I was off to B&Q. 13 and another two hours later and the frame is finally ready for glazing
    Updated 10-06-12 at 20:45 by fazerdaze
  10. fazerdaze's Avatar
    This afternoon Rolawn delivered, or attempted to deliver, a bag of topsoil for my garden. I clearly wrote on the order that the road was difficult, but the bin men, oil deliveries and B&Q all managed it. The driver didn't. He hit the fence of the house on the corner on the way in, then hit the mirror on the telegraph pole opposite on the way out ... then left my soil at the end of the road and left!
    And so started the exhausting task of getting the soil to the garden by wheelbarrow . . . I'd done four or five trips when a retired chap from the main road came along with another wheelbarrow and started to help. Shortly after the man from the corner house came out to take over from then old chap. Next trip back, the old guy's found another wheelbarrow and is trundling along to meet us
    Eventually Farmer Weeble came along with his tractor and kindly moved the whole pallet down the road and into to my drive so I could manage the rest on my own.
    I was sincerely glad of the help. I'm still going to ache like hell in the morning, but most of all I'm glad I've got such wonderful neighbours
    Updated 03-04-12 at 06:45 by fazerdaze
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