Vagueness and the Aftermath - A sporadic diary

[RED-DOG]

After a month or so at school, Neville and his cronies got tired of taunting me continually and reduced it to once or twice a day. My skin got considerably thicker, and another new kid drew some of the fire. His name was Alan McNab, a tiny Scot who spoke with a funny accent and was almost as raggy arsed as I was.

Don’t get me wrong, I was always clean. A big bar of carbolic soap and a sandpaper flannel saw to that. It was wrapped around my mother’s fingers and then dragged across every inch of skin and screwed into every orifice.

My clothes were also clean, and for the most part, in good repair. It’s just that they all came out of the rags that my dad used to collect, and they made me look, shall we say, somewhat eccentric. As long as they were not so big that they fell off me, I was dressed in whatever clothes came along. It didn’t matter if they were boys or girls, men’s or women’s. (To this day I can fasten wrong-sided buttons with consummate ease)

Typically my outfit might consist of a pair of brown corduroy trousers with the legs chopped off or turned up about 15 times, and a waist that was ample for at least two small boys, held up by an elasticised “Snake” belt.  A blue or pink blouse, (sometimes with frilly collar and cuffs) and a jersey with a hole that had been darned with mis-matched wool. Unfortunately, my feet were just the right size for those fur lined boots with zips up the front that old ladies used to wear, so they often completed the ensemble.

For the record, my wardrobe was not totally restricted to such mundane apparel. I wore anything that came along. My dad once cleared the attic of a very posh house belonging to a retired colonel who had served in India for many years. That week, I went to school dressed as a punkahwalla.

Alan McNab and I became great friends. After school, he would visit me, or I would visit him. Alan was fascinated by everything at my home. The caravans, the horses, the dogs, my dad’s lorry, the scrap iron, everything.
Likewise his house fascinated me. All those rooms, some just for sleeping in. The huge TV that came on without being connected to a car battery. The bath, and most of all, the flush toilet. Alan’s dad said that if I flushed it once more, he would “Rip ma heid auf and flush it doon!”

Alan and his family made my time behind the Arrow so much better. They gave me some self-esteem when mine was at a low ebb. I will always be grateful.

[boldie]

 and a waist that was ample for at least two small boys,

where as now it's ample for two small men?

Sorry mr Grey, couldn't resist.

[RED-DOG]

 and a waist that was ample for at least two small boys,

where as now it's ample for two small men?

Sorry mr Grey, couldn't resist.

Watch it Baldy!

[Snatiramas]

Ah bullying..........takes me back. There I was a fresh faced seven year old not a care in the world going into junior school. First day........oi you yid

Go home and ask parents what a yid is?

Second day at school in front of headmaster for smacking bully in the chops
"Why did you hit him Phillip?
He called me a yid sir
Well you can't hit everybody who calls you names"

and of course he was right.......but I did hit quite a few out of necessity....and then the skin thickens and you realise a much more potent weapon is humour..........been using it ever since.

If I had been back in his office now the conversation would have gone as follows
"Why did you hit him Phillip?
He said you had a fat arse sir
Did he indeed!
Mark Hillman my office now boy!!!"

IMHO you have a real talent Red.........push it to its fullest and do more writing

[RED-DOG]

ty Satty 

[hans47]

Really enjoying this Tom.  My favourites are your stories of the good ole days.  I could read them for hours and never get bored.  Thanks!   

The good ole days stories are my fave too Dawn, and I ache with nostalga when I write about them. but I would hate to bore everyone to death.

I can just imagine people rolling their eyes and saying "Yeah yeah.. here we go again.... During the war..."

They are adventures not stories though Red!  Also you are a great teller of your story and it is always interesting finding out about another way of life if not culture. Don't worry your following is getting larger spread the word!

[RED-DOG]

Played the £300 at the broadway tonight. The blinds were 100/200 and I'm down to less than 5k in chips. That's OK though, the next level is 150/300 (I know this because I rang up and checked. Then I look at the plasma and it says "Next level 200/400"  WHAT??

I speak to the super.

"You told me there was a 150/300 level when I rang"

"Er.... um... no, that's in the £500"


A lady who I know is capable of making a move or two makes it 700 on my bb, I call with K 8 of hearts.

Flop comes K high, I bet for 1000, she re raises  me. I now have less than 3k behind. I know I should pass but now I am short stacked, the next blinds are 200/400 and I'm pissed off. I made four phone calls to check the clock and structure, I know what I was told.

I push. Matey girl calls, she has aces, good luck to her, I played terribly.

[RED-DOG]

Things were looking up on the footwear front. My mam got me a pair of clogs. They were 3 or 4 sizes to big, and so heavy that I could barely lift them, but apart from that, they were magnificent.

The leather uppers were attached to the thick wooden soles by a shiny row of metal studs (like those you sometimes see on a good quality settee) and the underside was peppered with dozens of big hob nails that crunched as I walked and sparked when I ran. They looked like the devil himself had designed them. I loved them to bits.

About two months after I first went to school, my brother Tracy turned 5 and was sent along with me. The school was perhaps half a mile away, but in those days, it was not unusual for children of our age to walk that distance unaccompanied. I was given strict instructions to “Look after your brother” and off we went.

Tracy didn’t like the idea of going to school at all, so he cried all the way there and chewed the two top buttons off his duffle coat. Still, the teacher took a liking to him and settled him down nicely by telling him all about school dinners and what was on the menu that day.

Our routine was to have a play-period for half an hour before dinner to allow the staff time to convert one of the classrooms into a dining room, then a bell would ring to signal that play time was over and dinner was ready. We all had to stop whatever we were doing and stand stock-still until the bell rang for a second time, then we could form an orderly queue outside the classroom door.

By the second bell, Tracy was beside himself with anticipation and ran to be first in the queue. From my place further back, I could see that he had found a spot just in front of Neville, and then the bodies of other children obscured my view.

Suddenly a huge wail issued from somewhere up front, moments later, Tracy came running back towards me, tears streaming down his face.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Nebble hit me” He sobbed.

I looked at my brothers tear stained face, his snotty nose, and his chewed duffle coat, and my blood started to boil. I ran toward the front of the dinner queue with murder in my heart.

I grabbed “”Nebble” by the shoulder and he turned to face me, as he did, all my courage disappeared. I had no idea what to do. I stood there frozen and he drew back his foot and launched a huge kick in my direction. Instinctively, I lifted my leg a little to protect myself, and Neville’s bony shin crashed into my armour-plated clog with a force that made my teeth rattle.

He dropped to the ground like he had been pole-axed. His ear splitting shriek seemed to last for five minutes or so, then everyone thought he had fallen silent, but I noticed a dog across the street cocking it’s head to one side and realised that he had just gone beyond the range of human hearing.
As it turned out, Neville’s leg was broken. He was taken away, and when he returned about a week later, he was wearing a plaster cast and walking on crutches.

As punishment, I was given three strokes on each hand with the edge of a ruler and denied playground privileges for a week. My brother Tracy was so worried about retribution from “Nebble” that he ate almost all of his duffle coat.

As far as the other kids were concerned, I had confronted my tormentor, and I had won. We had no more bother from him. Like all bullies, when someone stands up to them, they are never quite so brave.

Deep inside though, I knew that I was only an accidental hero, but I never did let on. Until now that is.

[boldie]

Now that's a great post!

[RED-DOG]

but I did hit quite a few out of necessity....and then the skin thickens and you realise a much more potent weapon is humour.....

I've been thinking about this part of your post Phil. I've shared a table with you on numerous occasions, and I have decided that, if it's all the same to you, I'll pass on the humour and take the smack in the chops please.

[kinboshi]

but I did hit quite a few out of necessity....and then the skin thickens and you realise a much more potent weapon is humour.....

I've been thinking about this part of your post Phil. I've shared a table with you on numerous occasions, and I have decided that, if it's all the same to you, I'll pass on the humour and take the smack in the chops please.

1-0 to the pensioner! 

[Snatiramas]

but I did hit quite a few out of necessity....and then the skin thickens and you realise a much more potent weapon is humour.....

I've been thinking about this part of your post Phil. I've shared a table with you on numerous occasions, and I have decided that, if it's all the same to you, I'll pass on the humour and take the smack in the chops please.

Of course such one liners as
Tikay taught me all I know about humour...........or was it trains

Or the alternative
You are tighter than tighty

Or Monday nights

Are you sizzling Danish?

But actually I would have to say that my favourite comment as regards the humour at the table came from our dear departed Dave77 who once said

"Phil they do not realise that you have insulted them until they are lying at home in bed"............always knew he would go far.

No chat............must be on the internet

[turny]

Played the £300 at the broadway tonight. The blinds were 100/200 and I'm down to less than 5k in chips. That's OK though, the next level is 150/300 (I know this because I rang up and checked. Then I look at the plasma and it says "Next level 200/400"  WHAT??

I speak to the super.

"You told me there was a 150/300 level when I rang"

"Er.... um... no, that's in the £500"


A lady who I know is capable of making a move or two makes it 700 on my bb, I call with K 8 of hearts.

Flop comes K high, I bet for 1000, she re raises  me. I now have less than 3k behind. I know I should pass but now I am short stacked, the next blinds are 200/400 and I'm pissed off. I made four phone calls to check the clock and structure, I know what I was told.

I push. Matey girl calls, she has aces, good luck to her, I played terribly.

this is so annoying and has a huge effect on the tournament.
why are so many cardroom staff misinformed?and it always seems to be the ones chosen to answer the phone and take questions from intending players.

so frustrating when you play a tournament and the structure isnt what you have been told and/or is changed by the cardroom staff whilst the tournament is running.

another one that annoys me is when they decide to turn the blinds back on the final, everyone there goes "great thank you, we have more play what a great cardroom etc" but is it great?
what about the poor saps who went out 10th,11th,12th who had to gamble with there shortstack as they had less than 10 big blinds and if knowing the above could have held on in there and there relative short stack becomes 20 or 30 bb all of a sudden when the final is reached.

imo a structure shouldnt be touched once a tournament is in progress, if the structure becomes bad a TD should learn by it and tweek his structure for the following event not the event in play.

[RED-DOG]

why are so many cardroom staff misinformed?

The staff didn't misinform me, the TD did.

[turny]

why are so many cardroom staff misinformed?

The staff didn't misinform me, the TD did.

even worse!