A Tale of Two Coats...

Look back at your teenage years or further back to childhood, then come back to the present and discuss.

What's the first thing most people say they don't see no more... white dog poo!. and that wagon wheels are no longer the same size, along with polo's and curly wurlys. But has something else seem to be in decline too? but more silent that sun bleached fecal matter and chocolate treats and sweets....

What ever happened to the memorable lovable tramp?... It seems they have just been replaced by scagheads and beggers... even big issue sellers now seem to be mostly "imported" beggars.

In the town I currently work in, all I see is what I just mentioned, scagheads etc, I do see this one old guy walking the same bit of road, in the same clothes, but he lacks the ubiquitous big bushy beard, he may have the pungent odour, but never been that close.... thankfully...

So what has happened to the quintessential Tramp?... are they in decline like the bees? or have they all died out... because they were so old in the first place? and because they seem to be in decline.. are we importing foreign tramps in? to replace the national shortage...

But I digress so back to the blog about a Tramp...

In the town where I used to live as a child there were tramps and one that became a very familiar sight, Mr Two Coats...

Now Two Coats first came to the attention of my mother, who when on her lunch or just around town, would notice him, with his funny gaited walk and vaguely odd appearance, strolling all around town. She pointed him out to me once when I was with her in town, as mothers do and blatantly said, that's a tramp. (I think he was a "care in the community" refugee to be honest, abandoned by the system, but most people just think they are just weird..)

From then on, I would notice Two Coats when in town and I named him thus. This is all due to seeing him on a daily basis, once in the morning and going home in the afternoon, but each time he would be wearing a different coat.

In the morning, he could be sporting a long blue mac, a little too small to cover his rotund belly. Later he would be dressed in a short leatherette jacket. I think any coat was fair game to him, as I think I saw him in a ladies coat once.

This was the case for the many years I used to see him, his beard growing ever larger and his belly, the top of his head becoming ever balder and his apparent wardrobe full of coats becoming ever more large and equipped for all seasons.

I wondered where this wardrobe might be? Narnia?... did he have a stash behind the big skips in town? or where they simply dropped in specific places...

Considering these days seeing abandoned clothing around town is a common sight, back then there was simply nothing.

I often wonder if he's still around, swapping fashion ever couple of hours, mumbling to himself about what is in this season.. and which designer is the one to be seen in?... as he passes his day of travel.

Skool what is it gud 4?

Well since I've been struggling to find somethings to blog about, I seem to have been searching everywhere... and today a small light came on in my head while talking to a work colleague....

It stems from remembering things in the past from school (feeling a bit bitter that I feel a bit thick, even though I'm not), all the times when I got told off for being me... there was a few times this happened.

In art, I got told to stop drawing black lines around everything... which was my style not theirs, they tried to drum it that it was wrong, only Mat Smith flourished in this environment, creating masterpiece after masterpiece, me I failed but ironically I do now work in the design field, maybe I'd started earlier if I had my own style....

Then at the age of 14 for having a black magic book, which came from a book club, Mr Salkeld took it off me saying it was dangerous.... how stupid did this fool think I was, where was a 14 year old going to get some dolphin for one of the spells, from Tesco's.. at the all you need for witchcraft aisle?.

Being the burk he was, maybe he went on to learn the dark arts, as he was a crap English teacher...

But the first time I was told off was by Miss Chadwick or was it Mrs.. I don't think we ever knew.... She was a wizened old teacher with a large ginger hairdo, who I think from this day forth didn't like me, it was a small battle of wills, I would not reform... and I think she enjoyed telling me I couldn't come back to do the sixth form due to my exam results...

It was my second year and I remember being in the classroom, but can't recall what subject it was for. Wiggy one tit (as I nick named her later) gave us all a writing assignment, what can you see out of your bedroom window at home?....

Well the thought went through my mind that what I can see was a tad on the boring side and would have been very short... compared to most of my country dwelling school friends, with all their fields and trees, I lived in a 1970's house overlooking a load of bugalows and garage roofs.... so what did I do.... well I got creative... and thought out of the box...

I proceeded to write about seeing a giant beanstalk outside my window and I used to climb it, well this rubbed her up the wrong way.. rather than seeing it as using my imagination and funny.. I was made to look like a naughty kid in front of everyone ... so having just told this story to my work colleague we came up with a new one... both of us being the smutty and double entendre type, it would have being interesting to see what my teacher would have done if I came up with this at the age of 12... I've tried to keep in context.

"Well from my bedroom window I can see Mrs Bradbury's house, she in her 20's, blonde, pretty and married.

It's a lovely house, with a nice pair of big knockers, I like to fumble a little with them,

as they are very unusual.

She waves to me sometimes from the kitchen, wearing her apron. I can see she has a nice rack.

It's full of spices to make meals with, it must be hand made, the kind of thing we'd make in CDT.

At times she scratches herself a lot, with some meals, something about crabs,

I think she has an allergy to shellfish, but her husband really likes them.

On occasion I can hear her scream YES YES YES...

as I think she has solved her cooking conundrums or come up with a new tasty recipe...

She also has a huge flowery bush, at the bottom of the garden.

Mr Brabury grumbles as he has to go down so often, to sort it out.

In winter I see her with two fat balls in her hand.

There is nothing more pretty than Tits hanging off them.

The Tits can't stay for too long, as her pussy keeps popping out of it's flap,

it's very scary and the meanest cat on the street.

I sometimes go round for a good time and fun, generally I come first,

before all the other kids, as I live closer.

One week she asked me to help her put a bun in the oven,

it took us a while to work out how to put it in, it was a big cake, the whole street could have had a piece.

We played a game where you have to pull things out,

Operation is really tricky.

The end.

Total Recall!

No don't worry this is not a break down of the 1990 movie starring Arnold Szarshburger, Sharon Pebble and Michael Copperside, it a comparison... (bit long too) of what could be put onto my memory drive for future generations to ponder through?

So what can you recall of your life so far? do you want to remember everything from the littlest detail... I try too...

Where were you when something major happened?, can you recall your first kiss?, your first sense of loss?, joy?....

Anything momentus in the world can make an impression on us, such as you can probably recall where you were when diana died or the space shuttle blew up...., but what about our own little orbit? can you recall your moments like that?, not so much earth shattering, except to you? and in what detail?

Me personally, I can recall things, from the random, to the weird and downright factual sometimes in very good detail. I do have items that remind me and I have the knack of picking up a film I've seen and remembering most of it even before I put it in the dvd player, which then means I have to put it back and find one I've not seen in a while.

It does freak out and amaze some of my friends what I'm able to recall and remember, my parents and sister will sometime text me from pub quizzes wanting answers to questions I'll know... would be nice in the first place if they'd asked me to be there in person. I think I've always had the power to recall some random facts, but it's never really helped me educationally.

But is this because these things have made such an impact on me, in my one lone orbit?

My earliest memories of loss are pretty clear and still make me well up even now as I type it.

They revolve around the thoughts of my grandad a family member we simply will never know enough about. I remember one of the last times I saw my grandad in 1978 when I was 4, he was sat in a chair with his foot up on a poof waiting for me and my sister to arrive, he'd always seemed to be ready to tickle us when we got there.

I didn't realise at the time this was the start of his illness, which took him a year later and again I can recall, my drawing from school of him in a hospital bed and then the day of his funeral, everyone was crying accept me, as I didn't understand what was going on, but I make up for it now....

Grandad 1918 - 1979

Next was the first time I was allowed to stay up and see the new years celebrations in Trafalgar square on tv, the time click 1979 went and 1980 came.... but they are just a minor things I can remember....

But what the other stories things, that everyone will have gone through?

I'm not going to put these stories into any specific order....

REAL WOMEN AND NUDIE PICTURES.

My first dealings with this again began at my grandparents house, I remember having a scrap book where I would just put cut out of women, from anything that was lying around, (I don't know where this book went... be curious to know). They also used to get the Sun newspaper, and there in black and white everyday was a semi clad woman, it used to facinate me intently, what was going on? why is she like that?... I'm sure all boys would have done the same... wow is that a girl?...

The page 3 was for most kids my generation, the only source of titillation apart from Hills lingerie clad angels, unless you had an older brother, who along with garden bushes seemed to be the source of naughtier magazines.... blown there by some magical wind.

I found my first at the age of 13 in a bin at school, this was an odd thing to find.. it was a boarding school, just before breakfast (the only thing these steps had offered me before was a hard surface to break my JOVIK souvenir cup on, I was gutted). So I had to formulate a plan to get it back to somewhere safe... so what did I do...the most cunning thing a 13 year old with a moments notice could do... I stuck it up my jumper (I did prefect this technic over the next few years, to avoid bullies and other things). I then had to sit through breakfast, probably with the biggest look of guilt on my face and probably sweating like I'd just robbed a bank.

Eventually we got back to the dorm, where me and my fellow room mates rapidly gained a crush on the girl named SANDY, who started out in a yellow bikini and was laid out on a beach, to four 13 year old boys her name was rather apt to the background, was it coincidental? like we was bothered she was nude......

So by the end of term we still had this copy of "Mens World", knowing all the time if we got caught with it there would be big trouble!, much worse than lines or standing in a corridor. It finally languished in the box for my setreo, which was packed up for the end of term. But terror was about to enter my young heart again.... somebody had had something big stolen, so every where was being checked.....

Again I could have lost "Sandy" and her pals and got some serious trouble... and at first thought I appeared to be safe, as the said stolen item was a little to large to be in my box, but they checked it anyways... with panic in my eyes the box was opened by a sixth former (who did prove over the years they were sadistic with their punishments) and he searched it.... luckily Sandy lay on her beach in the bottom of the box and being a bit OCD I'd kept all the packaging so it she and friends were well hidden... I breathed a sign of relief once again.... till the next time...

FIRST TIME DRUNK.

My first major adventure with alcohol was when I went to my first works doo at the age of 17.

Having preformed rather crap at school, I went to college for a year, then onto Blackburn Itec, who got me my first proper job way back in 1991 at Crown Eyeglass.

This was a low paid factory job, £89 a week as I recall, after a year of being there the pitiful raise had raised it to this amount, but I did always seem to be rich, as I didn't know much back then.... but back to the story.

So having been at my new place of employment for about 6 months, xmas came around, the Savoy in the town was booked, a fairly low budget place, but fun none the less... By now most of my friends and the girl who I had a crush on, Michelle Fenton, knew that I'd not really drunk before then, so they where on a mission to get me drunk.

(I eventually became friends with them after they sent me for a glass hammer in my first week and a long stand).

So I turned up rather nervous in something very 90's other than my Terminator 2 t-shirt (which did give birth to the nick name The Termite as I was small). And so went my first xmas doo..

So The alcohol menu was as follows:

A couple of pints I think from Louie an Lenny (No they were not a comedy double act... but maybe they should have thought about it, Louie a hardman biker from Blackpool and Lenny who was nearly 7ft giant from Rishdon, Lenny's brother was slightly taller than that),

A Guinness and Black (As I had once drunk this before, but only a half)

A vodka and orange (Which was to become my tipple of choice) from Wayne (A friend which in one of the following years, we'd have drunken adventures, ringing his girlfriend telling her he'd been arrested and getting locked in a friends flat, which lead my dad phoning the police.)

So the night ended I found myself walking home. (Which did become a habit of mine walking nearly 3miles after a night of drunken tomfoolery and snooker). Just over 2 miles and 47min later (according to google maps), I arrived home merry with a wet back as it had been raining. Parents laughing at my great big smile....

WORLD EVENTS THAT MADE A MARK...

I have 2 that have left a mark on me, one because of the length of time since it happened has just gone over 20 years and the other because a. I thought I'd never see anything like that in real life, but it was my nieces birthday.

Just over 20 years ago I remember it was the peak of the ending of apartheid in South Africa and the freedom of Nelson Mandela was about to happen after 27years, a song had been written and everyone was preparing for this a moment to tell your grandchildren about.

So on Sunday just after meeting (Quaker school thing) everyone piled into the tv room, even though it was a nice day and the local village, town, fields etc.. beckoned, there on the old box an image of open gates was broadcast, I think originally he was supposed to be coming out about 11am... so we all crammed in, dressed in sunday best and ties, egar to see this moment... so we waited.... and waited... but after 2hours, I had the best seat in the house... everyone had gone... making the most of their sunday.... me I stayed for the slog, eventually Mr Mandela came to the gates gave a wave and the world press went wild, me I felt good he'd been released but at the same time wondered if I should have released myself into the outside world?

The second event which will have made an impact on everyone, was the fall of the Twin Towers.

I was still working nights and had just got up, at the time I was living in Wythenshawe and just flicked the TV on casually to see it beaming out pictures of the burning tower, oh it's a film.... so my half asleep noodle thought.... As I focused properly on the TV, I saw the second plane hit and realised it was real, like everyone I was shocked and amazed that anything like this could happen and how a whole plane could just simply vanish into a building. I collected as may newspapers as possible for the following weeks to get as many pictures and reports as I could, soaking in the images of twisted, burnt metal jutting into the air, people rushing to safety and just the mass of damage caused.

But what I think made it more memorable it was my nieces 4th birthday, I thought it was bad to have a birthday on the 13th like my grandpa, but now this event will always be remembered.... as was proved at my nephews naming ceremony.

Sometime in 2005 he was christened just after the anniversary of this tragic event, the vicar said that we should have a few moments silence in remembrance, a hauntingly sad tune filling the air for a few minutes. Once it had finished, the vicar enquired about my niece, (who had managed to stay quiet through the tune) and how old she was?, well, said my sister her birthday had just been and then had to whisper .... it was the 11th of September.... the vicar didn't know what to say.... what kind of thought ran through his head?... could he possibly have thought about happiness on such a sad day... after the moments silence? he just appeared bemused... like any man of god...

me hanging with the kids...

To be continued.....

Abandoned things and their stories...

We've all seen the all to common sight of abandoned or lost clothes scattered across town and road, victims of passion, possibly... or lack of cash at the weekends who knows?. I did hear an urban myth about taxi drivers taking peoples jeans if they could not pay...

I myself take pictures of these unfortunate items. I started this after my long and still ongoing project of taking pictures of abandoned shopping trollies which evolved and before anyone ones says "thats been done before", well I had the first idea to do it 11 years ago now, whilst existing in the twilight.

Where I used to work in Sale, was a trolley mecca. My office block stood in an area littered with Tesco's finest, Mark and Spencer's best, Sainsbury's try something new wire metaled constructs, along with many more, all casually abandoned after ferrying their own weight in eggs and bread, milk and stockings.. (plus I also used to have crushes on some of the check out girls, who I'd had given names, I was too nervous to actually find out their names. These where the only other people I interacted with on a regular basis, working nights at my previous job, was a killer of friendships and souls).

So armed with my trusty film camera which I still prefer (I'd only purchase my first digital 2 years later whilst drunk and getting fat in Tenerife, with a massive 2 mega pixels). I'd go out after work or dinner, sometimes as late as 2am and wander around snapping up the local abandoned trollies, we'd also used to get large gathering on our carpark, hiding from the collectors or left by kids, looking more like animals than inanimates.

A lot were left as if causally waiting for a friend or punting for extra business as if it was something illicit, some as if they had run away themselves, others huddled together for warmth like pack animals and many cast upon their sides - the dead or murdered, but the most unfortunate would be in rivers or canals.

I still take pictures of them, but after a while this evolved into collecting shopping lists, left within these trollies. Yes I'm strange for the most part and I did get quite feverish at collecting them, sometimes going out of my way to get these scraps of screwed up paper. But I often wondered why lists are so readily thrown away....

If you think about a list, most people will spend a lot of time and effort to scribe down their wants, needs, treats and then simply screw it up and leave it... this list, that may have taken time to produce and probably the most thought out thing in that persons day or week.

But also interestingly the scraps of paper or what ever comes to hand used for lists is vast and the previous information or added information can just be as interesting, mobile phone numbers, letters from schools... wanting to see the parents of so and so... and some of the items listed are hilarious... Some badly spelt, but all in a different cursive. Some surprisingly long, whilst other suspiciously short and vague, did they know what the wanted or just thought "hell with it.. what ever takes my fancy shall be cast into my basket or trolley... I don't need it but I don't care...."

Again I still collect the odd ones, I did have a project to collect 101 randomly found lists, my eventual idea was to make a big list from all the scraps... which is still in the making...

Well as all things do, the evolution continued and I moved onto taking pictures of abandoned clothes. It's surprising how many loose articles are scattered around and when you mention it to people they too have come across a fair amount of this detritus.... My mum and dad once saw a bra hanging from a tree or on top of a bush in a very public area.

I myself have seen shoes (mostly babies), a pair of jeans, a couple of jumpers and many hat, but by far the most lost piece of clothing must be the humble glove. A sad lonely thing on it own, always craving for it's opposite equal. This is where my final part of the abandonment has come to rest, finding that single glove in the gutter or run over in the road, all wet and dirty.

If these glove weren't an inanimate object and had feelings what would they be?, a constant feeling of loneliness? or loss?, a want of rescue to meet lefty or righty again and be happy ever after?... that desperate plea to meet a one handed person....

No Doubt this will continue on until the point we evolve something better than hands, either a bluetooth dongle or a USB finger tip