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A true story about me. (Memories)

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  • Registered Users Posts: 12,631 ✭✭✭✭OldGoat


    Jellybaby1 wrote: »
    I like 'em funny, but not blue. :o
    So that would be just a few shades of Grey then? :)

    I'm older than Minecraft goats.



  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    I am still not sure I should have chuckled at that OG, being the sweet young innocent that I am. But it was smile worthy.


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 7,108 ✭✭✭Jellybaby1


    Who has read the Grey book then? RTE radio had a piece about it and sent a journalist to Easons to watch who buys it. He said a priest had the trilogy under his arm! ;) I'm very luke warm about racy novels myself.


  • Registered Users Posts: 7,180 ✭✭✭jos28


    Rube may have a real job but I nearly lost mine today when the boss caught me in stitches laughing (while reading this thread when I should have been working).
    Seriously Rube, you should get yourself a publisher or start a blog. Hilarious stuff !


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    You are all very kind, but you can't use a couple of anecdotes to write a book. But thank you all for your comments, it has been a pleasure to relate them to you folks.

    It is nice to feel appreciated. Hopefully when the misty greyness of my memory lets me I can tell you the tales of ..... well lets leave that for a future date. :)


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  • Registered Users Posts: 2,624 ✭✭✭Alice1


    Rubecula wrote: »
    You are all very kind, but you can't use a couple of anecdotes to write a book.

    Hm, not necessarily true in all cases - after all, look at the sucess of "Overheard in Dublin" I am quite confident that your stories would sell equally well - an' anyway, think of the delight and enjoyment they would bring. :)


  • Registered Users Posts: 9,459 ✭✭✭Chucken


    I totally agree Alice :)


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 7,108 ✭✭✭Jellybaby1


    And if you've heard about the Ross O'Carroll Kelly books, then you know that we need a book by Rubes. :D And jos28 is right, why not a blog? Still you don't want to give your stories away. Publish and make us pay for 'em!


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    When I was living and working in Germany in the mid 1970's I went for a drive with a friend in his brand new shiny car.

    Winter had finally ended and it had been a cold one (1975?? 1976??) Anyway we set off to a winter wonderland area. (Slushy I would have thought knowing how things get over here) But no there were areas of lovely crisp white snow still around. (Ok it was mostly slushy but there were a few nice white places.)

    Anyway we got up to the top of a mountain, or very tall hill and parked up to have a look around.

    A small tree was standing by itself in the snow and I thought a photo of me standing next to it would look good for the album. Stepping forward to this 4 foot high tree, I suddenly found out it was more like a 34 foot high tree with a huge snow drift on it. It was over the edge of the road and I didn't realise I was heading for a fall .... until much to the laughter of my friend I vanished over the side of the mountain through a crust of crisp white snow.

    It seems my shriek echoed all over the place.

    I got back up the slope with a little help from my still laughing friend. (How he didn't wet himself I will never know.) and we went on a little further. Of course the snaow on me melted in the car and soon I was pretty wet, and so was this nice new car. I didn't point this out to him though, I wanted to make sure I got a ride home.

    We passed a roadsign which being in German I couldn't read, but luckily he could. "Hey" he said " A ski slope" (or words to that effect) "Lets take a look."

    I can't ski and have never tried, but I am all for a having a look at these things

    Of course the season was over and the place was deserted. The slope seemed to start somewhere above us, came down fairly gently to the road and looked like it continued down on the other side of the road. I got out of the car and went to look.

    "Hey it is solid ice, and it is almost vertical heeeeeeeeeeeeere ......." Yes indeed I was a little to interested. I went down that sheet of ice at an ever increasing speed on my backside with no control at all. I was spinning and sliding on my rear end for an eternity. Sky Ice Sky Ice Sky Ice Tree ouch. I came to a stop a long way down, and all I could hear was hysteria and gasping for breath. I was trapped halfway down. I couldn't get back up as I kept slipping. I even fell on my face a couple of times with my legs going ten to the dozen to stay in one place.

    Eventually, his voice came down between sobbing of laughter. "I will meet you at the bottom."

    I reluctantly had to slide all the way to the bottom where the road wound around, but it was treacherous so I went down on my backside (already numb from the cold and the severe bumping it had already suffered). When I limped into the edge of town, he was waiting.

    "Let's go get a drink, I am sore, cold, wet and miserable and I hate this place"

    "Well they love you" He pointed behind to where some townsfolk were in pleats of laughter, and some ladies were taking a bit too much interest.

    All the sliding had removed the backside of my jeans, and my underwear, my arse was bare for all to see.


    (The place I think was Winterburg by the way)


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 7,108 ✭✭✭Jellybaby1


    You were in Germany in the 70's Rube? Did you meet these lads:



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  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    No afraid not, they were in the up market area. :)


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 7,108 ✭✭✭Jellybaby1


    I occasionally wander the corridors of the Genealogy forum here on Boards. I popped on there this true story about me and thought I would share it with the story-tellers here:

    I recently had the privilege of meeting a very elderly relative who was keen to share her knowledge. It was very enjoyable for me, and I think also for her and we both exchanged otherwise unknown information. It was all going blindingly well until she said, "your father's family were all very good looking people". Looking at the photos I had to agree with her. The women were beautiful and graceful, dressed to the nines, the men were very dashing. Then she said.....'you take after your mother don't you?' I agreed with her meekly. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry!


  • Registered Users Posts: 2,624 ✭✭✭Alice1


    Ah poor Jelly - better to laugh. Orrr, you could always be horrible and say "yes, Mother's people were very clever"


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    Jellybaby1 wrote: »
    I occasionally wander the corridors of the Genealogy forum here on Boards. I popped on there this true story about me and thought I would share it with the story-tellers here:

    I recently had the privilege of meeting a very elderly relative who was keen to share her knowledge. It was very enjoyable for me, and I think also for her and we both exchanged otherwise unknown information. It was all going blindingly well until she said, "your father's family were all very good looking people". Looking at the photos I had to agree with her. The women were beautiful and graceful, dressed to the nines, the men were very dashing. Then she said.....'you take after your mother don't you?' I agreed with her meekly. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry!

    That's priceless isn't it. You could have retorted but the poor dear might have not meant it badly. Bless the old for they get away with murder


  • Registered Users Posts: 9,459 ✭✭✭Chucken


    Rubecula wrote: »
    That's priceless isn't it. You could have retorted but the poor dear might have not meant it badly. Bless the old for they get away with murder

    Reminds me of when I told my ex mother in law that my daughter is pregnant.
    Bear in mind this lady speaks like she has pebbles in her mouth, if ya know what I mean.(Rawtha)

    Anyway, I told her and quick as you like she says " and does she know who the fawwtherr is" :pac::pac:
    Poor dear has altzimers but it doesnt stop her being cutting!


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    LOL see they get the words in at that age. Funny too if you are not the butt of the comment.


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 7,108 ✭✭✭Jellybaby1


    It was indeed priceless, obviously my dad's side of the family had a sense of humour too! She is almost 90 bless her but it was great to meet her even at this late stage.

    Chucken, your story really takes the biscuit! :D


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    Some years ago (not that long about 5 I think) we had a visit from a small detatchment of French Air Force planes for a week. Nice people and they invited us to a reciprocal visit to their base in the south of France. Of course were were very reluctant to leave our wonderful cold wet and windy airfield to go to the dubious delights of warm dry weather. And we went, I say we, but I was one of the unfortunate ones who didn't get to go.

    However all was not lost as one of out aircraft suffered some damage and had to be left there. I was one of the ones tasked to go and get it back.

    Instructions were written out, hotel bookings made, and on the Monday morning at 05:00 I arrived at work, ready to travel.

    Four lads went off in the big comfy car right away, myself and Nobby took turns of driving the flatbed Ford Transit with the tools on the back. 0 to 60 time ... eventually.

    By 09:00 (four hours after starting, we had reached the front office. Paperwork was not yet done to take the Transit off the base. By 11:00 the paperwork was done, but we still didn't go anywhere. We needed more paperwork to let us take the Transit out of the country, and that had to come from a Ministry Office somewhere else. Finally we were stirred from out lethargy at about 15:00 with a FAX of the required paperwork.

    YAY we were on the way to France. The Transit had been prepared for us by the Motor Transport (MT) section, so it was bound to be sorted properly .... wasn't it?

    We were travelling fairly slowly, but by the time we got on the M6 motorway it was dark due to the unfortunate problem of going through the rush hour (It was early December or Late November) We passed slowly by at 6 seperate road accidents. :eek:

    Somewhere about 19:00 (7 pm) I was the driver and I noticed cars beeping us as they overtook us. "Friendly folks" I commented. Nobby agreed. Anyway after so long we needed a cuppa, a break and a change of driver, so we pulled into a service station.

    We got out and Nobby said some kind of expletive. "Look at that" Our kind hearted MT boys had given us a tarpaulin from a 4 tonner (One of those army wagons you sometimes see) It was huge, you could have put four Transits under it. And it was not tied down! The beeping cars had been trying to tell us we had a 40 foot flag flying out behind us. Thank heaven the Police didn't stop us. We couldn't continue like that so the Tarp had to be fastened down.

    The problem we had was we had nothing to fasten it down with. I spent about an hour rooting through bins at the service station looking for bits of string and stuff. Then I knotted all the bits together to make a bit of rope. Then we tied it down. I wanted to sleep. I couldn't but it is what I wanted.

    Nobby took over, and we went hell for leather to the south. "Felixstowe orFolkstone?"

    "Eh?"

    "I can't remember if it is Felixstowe or Folkstone to go to"

    "Bugga Nobby, I think it is Folkstone, Felixstowe is the ferry port and we are going by the channel tunnel"

    (As it turned out I was right, but now I was so nervous I dare not sleep)

    Further south and we reached the motorway that led to the tunnel, BUT the fuel gauge was showing empty. PANIC No services from there until France. We needed to fill her up.

    We took a chance on going down a country lane looking for a place to fill up. And we found one. The lad there was just locking up as it was now heading towards Midnight. We persuaded him with muted threats and grovelling to let us fill up, and we set off once again. Finally we got to the chunnel terminal and we had to get through customs. The Transit was classed as a commercial vehicle so went through the commercial vehicle route. We felt sort of tiny with all those humungous articulated wagons, and we had to have the same checks done, but the benefit was that once we got on the train we could use the train's buffet car. We were offered drinks and sandwiches and I took coffee, a lot of coffee. I was almost asleep when we were told we had arrived, It had only taken a few minutes (it seemed) so off we went again. Our hotel was somewhere in Calais. Could we find it?

    We would have been better off looking for hen's teeth. In the end I got out and walked around looking for signposts or someone to ask, but I don't speak French, and anyway there was nobody around to speak to. In the end Nobby told me he was going to use the phone to call the car with the other lads in. They should already be here of course.

    Luckily one of them was still sober and came to collect us. (They had been there since the afternoon) and at about 02:00 on the Tuesday morning we got into bed. :) Only to be woken at 05:00 to continue the trip :(

    My turn to drive again. The string was not looking so good on the Tarp though. Still refreshed after a short sleep we set off. At the first service area I had had enough of the bloody Tarp and stopped off to buy a tie down strap. The only one they had was a 25 ton one and it cost a bloody fortune, but as I say I had had enough and bought it. (I still have it by the way) and strapped the Tarp down good and proper. The tiedown was so big it went around the Transit a few times and as I cranked it us I went a bit too far and squeezed a couple of lovley dents in the sides of the Transit, well at least the Tarp was unlikely to come loose now.

    We got to the Hotel in Tours at about 21:00 (9 PM) that Tuesday night ... from setting out at 5 o'clock on the Monday morning. :eek:

    I fell into bed.... My room was a converted loading bay too. Nicely done but bloody hell it was noisy.

    The following morning we set off to the airbase to get our 'plane back. They were very friendly, and when they had visited us they always greeted us with a handshake and a nice "Hello Sir". I did the same to them at their place. Unfortunately one of the men there was bringiing us a machine we needed and it was brand spanking new, still in cellophane. He was cranking it over as I approached and he looked up as I offered my hand. This was a mistake as he lost his attention, the crank kicked back and the handle came off hitting the machine and denting it to the point it wouldn't work.

    OOPS

    The aircraft couldn't fly home so we had to take it apart and put it in pieces on a couple of BIG wagons sent over by the RAF to help us. They set off before us as they were going by ferry. Someone had forgotten the jet engine.

    Ever tried to hoik a jet engine up with a fork lift truck? We did it with a bit of ingenuity and a total disregard for health and safety and dropped it neatly on the back of ..... OUR FORD TRANSIT.

    Now a Transit is a pretty good vehicle, and it had served us fairly well so far, but driving from the south of France to North Wales with a jet engine on the back was asking a lot. There were people on pushbikes and moped overtaking us on some hills.

    We needed to find a toilet a few times too, but down there they have what Nobby called "Damn Bombers" Ie a hole in the ground you had to perch over. I was ok but my poor mate Nobby was in dire straits for a while.

    We found a toilet in a service station, we filled the Transit up and .... our fuel card was not accepted. We had to dig around for loose change and what have you, looking into cubbyholes in the cab and so on. We scraped enough to appease the owner and we set off again.

    After going through customs (I was driving) we were on the motorway coming back up north and Nobby said with a smile. "Can I tell you something?"

    "Yeah go ahead"

    "That small toolbox on the back you were looking at."

    "Yeah"

    "Guess what is in it"

    "Tools?"

    "No it is the explosive from the pilot's escape system"

    "EH???"

    "Well if we had told you you would have looked guilty"

    "Hell I am the driver, if that had been picked up on the x ray they would have had me inside faster than a you know what"

    "That's why we didn't tell you" (Raucous laughter)

    It was great to get home. Would I do it again, for a week in the south of France like that? In a flash I tell you, it was GREAT.


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    Whelks can be odious little things can't they? Some like them but for others.......

    I do like sea food, and as my friend (Noel) pointed out, "we live on an island with very clean beaches. We can eat what we catch. "

    What could go wrong?

    Firstly, sea fishing is not the same as coarse fishing. I have done coarse fishing for years and never caught much of anything. BUT I did it for the relaxation and to watch the wildlife pass by. Very therapeutic. Sea fishing for your dinner is an entirely different kettle of fish..... no pun intended.

    The first time I tried it with my more experienced mate Noel was near the Menai Straits. A place that has more than one tide per day and is very fast fall and rise of the water. Obvious now.... however, back then it never did cross my mind. I took my time setting up as usual on a rocky beach with a touch of sand. the sun went down and darkness descended. Huge fishing box with my tackle in, comfy chair to while the hours in, hot flask of tea, rods and rod rests, the works in fact. I sat down wriggled into my seat and relaxed.

    "TIDE" screamed Noel.

    I ended up running for my life dragging half a ton of kit with me up the ankle breaking beach, sinking into the soft sandy bits between the rocks, tripping over every thing in my path to safety.

    This is not relaxing!!!

    Noel suggested we try off the pier at Beaumaris. (I never knew there was one either in case anyone is wondering) We went there the following week anyway to give it a go, at least there would be no tide to worry about. Sea fishing off a pier appealed as I could sit and relax after I set up...... I should have known better. I put a big lump of lead on the line and cast out. I wanted a good long cast but I have never been very good at that aspect of fishing as I have never needed to be. But now of course I was after my supper and not watching wildlife. besides you can't see much in the depth of the night. Anyway I gave the cast my all and good lord I must have done something right , it went high wide and handsome in fact it kept on going....... I waited for an eon to hear the splash, a splash that never came. in fact all I heard was a loud bang, rapidly followed by a Welsh voice saying some rude words.

    I had managed to hook some poor lad's boat. Once again I beat a hasty retreat. I lost a bit of tackle this time to the soulnd of Welsh swear words, which sound amazingly like English swear words when the person saying them is beside himself with anger and possibly with murder in mind.

    We tried from a sandy beach at Rhosneigr on evening. In the teeth of a howling gale both of us were exhausted trying to catch the bait bucked which at the start of the evening had £20 worth of bait in it. .. So if you ever find a bait bucket washing up on a coast near you........

    By this time as you can imagine I was getting pretty fed up with sea fishing. Noel often went out with his father in law and caught lots of fish. Me? Never had a bite.

    Anyway simply for a bit of practice and to give me a bit of confidence I believe, we went to the fish dock in Holyhead. Anything we caught (if in fact anything was going to get caught) would, I said be going right back where it came from. There in no way on this or any other world I would eat something that came out of that water. I was a wonderful, if chill night, we could see the late night ferry on it's way to Ireland, the fishing boats that were in port bobbing up and down gently, the sounds of gurgling from the sewerage outflow.

    I caught a dogfish, then another. or by the mark on it's fin it was probably the same one. Noel caught a dog fish.... (Must be a bloody stupid dogfish as it looked exactly the same to me.) "Good eating in one of these. " says Noel. I looked at the sewerage pipe and shook my head.."Sod off."

    And then the Whelk boat arrived at the fish dock.......

    We suspended our mighty hunting for a while to allow the boat to come in and unload it;s cargo. Which it duly did as we had a cup of tea. Each big sack was hoiked to a waiting van by a fisherman, one or two Whelks escaping onto the dockside as I watched with mild curiosity. I was thinking about when the kids came down to visit and the shell hunting they enjoyed on the beach. These whelks had pretty big and fine shells on them. Perhaps the fishermen would let me have a couple for the kids? As it happened I need not bother asking, for as it turned out they were not interested in the dozen or so that they dropped, and after about half an hour they took the boat back out to sea and the van drove off. The still living whelks on the floor were left where they fell.

    I went back to the car and dug out an empty plastic carrier bag and went to collect the escapees. Noel, who was sipping a hot cuppa looked round and saw me. "What in hell?" Quick as a flash I replaied "Remember the bait we lost at Rhosneigr? These will make up for that, and I will have the shells for the kids." Even Noel liked the idea.

    Some hours later we packed up and went home. Because of the different shifts we worked I didn't see Noel for a while.... about a month I think. When we did see each other he looked at me and his cheery voice called me ever evil word I could imagine and one or two I had no idea existed.

    It seems that a few days later he noticed an awful smell in his car. He could not place it, or find the source. two weeks later he had to drive with all the windows open and his head out of the window. But his a big lad and he could get used to the stench. He just couldn't find where it was coming from. Things came to a head when he and his wife went out with his father in law. The went to ALdi or maybe Tesco only just down the road. By the time they got there, Pam (Noel's wife ) was green. and as soon as Noel stopped she was out of the car being very very sick.

    Noel decided enough was enough and literally tore the car apart to find the cause of the smell.

    Yes indeed it was the whelks, or rather the liquified remains of what whelks turn into inside a hot car on sunny days. (A month's worth of hot steamy days) They had fallen into the spare wheel well in the boot. and when poor dear Pam sat in the back seat she got the full odour of rotted whelk.

    This was a few years ago now and oddly although we are still the best of friends he has never asked me to go fishing with him again.


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 7,108 ✭✭✭Jellybaby1


    Wonderful to have the great author back in flow. What a great story Rube as usual. You had me, hook, line, and stinker!! :D:D


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  • Registered Users Posts: 2,624 ✭✭✭Alice1


    Delighted to see you back Rubecula.


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    Jellybaby1 wrote: »
    Wonderful to have the great author back in flow. What a great story Rube as usual. You had me, hook, line, and stinker!! :D:D

    :D


  • Registered Users Posts: 1,099 ✭✭✭PMBC


    Teagwee wrote: »
    Hilarious - any more? I needed that laugh :D
    Just came on here - two great stories. I worked overseas thirty years ago and friends used relate the stories form my letters to one another in amusement. But the muse has left me.


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 7,108 ✭✭✭Jellybaby1


    PMBC wrote: »
    Just came on here - two great stories. I worked overseas thirty years ago and friends used relate the stories form my letters to one another in amusement. But the muse has left me.

    Shame, really. Let us know when it returns. :)


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    So anyway, before scooting off to work this afternoon, I decided to do myself a chip butty. Put the chips in the basket and turned the deep fat fryer on. ..... It didn't come on.

    Bugga

    Decided to check it out. took the tub out, filled with oil...... dropped it!
    Oil all over the kitchen floor.

    Bugga.

    Put the tub in the sink to clean. no time to do much else, turned around and stood in the oil on the floor.

    Ended up on me arse in the kitchen and had to crawl out on my hands and knees. The kitchen was like a bloody skating rink.

    Tonight I decided to do oven chips. YEUK.

    I have gone off chips.


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 7,108 ✭✭✭Jellybaby1


    What a double-buggah situation! :D I can empathise Rube as it's happened to me way back. Now I use an Actifry which only needs a teaspoonful of oil. Go buy one and soon! Dem deep fryers are a health hazard in more ways than one. Though it has to be said, de chips in dem deep fryers are droolingly gorjuss! You'll get used to the Actifry chips, they're not too bad.


  • Registered Users Posts: 8,551 ✭✭✭Rubecula


    Thank you JB, something to bear in mind xx


  • Registered Users Posts: 1,099 ✭✭✭PMBC


    Late 60s I was in Hyde Park of a Saturday listening intently to a speaker. I could feel someone 'pushing' me at the rear and I turned around. A middle aged man said something like - If you come with me Ill give you ten shillings. Just over on the boat, a quiet 17 year, old I was quite green but had a bit of cop on. I said to him - if you don't go away, see that Bobby over there, Ill complain to him. He promptly moved away.
    Having said that it was a great summer experience, first paid job, beautiful weather and my first time away from home.


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 32,688 ✭✭✭✭ Eddie Young Videodisc


    PMBC wrote: »
    Late 60s I was in Hyde Park of a Saturday listening intently to a speaker. I could feel someone 'pushing' me at the rear and I turned around. A middle aged man said something like - If you come with me Ill give you ten shillings. Just over on the boat, a quiet 17 year, old I was quite green but had a bit of cop on. I said to him - if you don't go away, see that Bobby over there, Ill complain to him. He promptly moved away.
    Having said that it was a great summer experience, first paid job, beautiful weather and my first time away from home.

    Was the man Rube? He probably just wanted a hand casting off his boat. You young people are so paranoid.


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  • Registered Users Posts: 1,099 ✭✭✭PMBC


    Hand casting? More like hanschanken!! Paranoia? No - its just they were 'all looking at me'


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