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Post by Admin on Dec 12, 2014 22:42:18 GMT -5
For redback, magpie sand others to reminisce. And to bring a smile for the rest of us. magpie, you have become way too serious. Go back to the fun times 60 years ago. Remember when you set up the broken chair in the meeting room, and the person who sat on it ended up on the floor. That brought the house down. Also in class when Teacher asked for the name of a star constellation. Your answer was "Hairy anus". That cracked the class up, and I think got you detention. Correct answer of course was Eridanus. Or the time you wore that pink shirt and pointy black shoes at Convention. You got spoken to by a Worker, probably Mr. Pickering. You would remember him. There would have been about 50 or 60 of us in that big tent at Dandenong. They were fun days. Were you ever on dunny duty at Dandenong. Perhaps not, as you were very suave, and would have been a Waiter looking after the other end. Where has your lighter side gone!!!. You and I will never fix CSA problems, leave that to the experts. Just be happy in old age, remember the good times. Would love to have a drink with you sometime. You and I should start a happy thread called "The good old days."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 12, 2014 23:15:47 GMT -5
i remember one time when i tried to order a horse over the phone and i wanted it free of charge. when i realized that it was long distance i confessed to my aunt that it was me that made the phone call....we lived in a duplex and i have no idea where i thought i was going to put it...this would have been when i was 9
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Post by Deleted on Dec 13, 2014 0:36:09 GMT -5
Thank you Admin, you are so kind to think of us old fellows. I will try to come up with a few stories about the old days. Things have changed so much in more than 70 years.
Hope it provides some light relief.
Thanks wally for your input.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 13, 2014 19:35:41 GMT -5
The year was 1945. World War 2 was coming to an end, but many products were hard to get. Food, petrol, clothes,etc, were still hard to get. You had to have coupons as rationing was in place. No coupon, no supply. One thing hard to get were golf balls. We helped out.
We lived on a farm next to a golf course. On the boundary between the farm and the golf course was a much overgrown boxthorn hedge. Many balls ended up in the hedge, would not be found, and players would move on. Us kids used to crawl in and retrieve them,sell them for five shillings each. Good money. One man, "Tinker" used to buy them from us every Saturday, took as many as he could get. No doubt he on sold them.
Dad used to grow potatoes, for our own use, any extra were sold. They were graded, and any as small as a golf ball were thrown out. Dad also taught us to thread the small potato onto a willow stick, and you could throw them a long distance.
I had two older Brothers, our ages then would have been 12,9 and myself 5. Brother one was the brains of the outfit, and Brother two was a bit like magpie, always in trouble. Brother one would come up with the idea,Brother two would carry it out and end up in the poo.
In the hedge was a gate, and just outside was a driving green. Very convenient. Brother one came up with a theory that if we threw a potato at the same time as player hit the ball, they would become confused follow potato, we would get ball. Sounded plausible, Brother two was only too happy to try it out.
Along came a man with his lady friend. She set up the ball, and as she started the downward swing Brother two let go with the potato. Direction was good, elevation not so good. Potato polverized on the back of her head. Man got very mad, went very red in face, smoke from ears, lady went white with shock. We made a quick exit to our hideout in the hedge, good thinking.
Bad theory, went back to old method. Hide in hedge, when ball came near, dash out stomp in ground. When player could not find, and declare it lost and move on, we would dig it up, wash, and sell for five shillings.
Ahhh!!! the good old days.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 14, 2014 21:53:03 GMT -5
During the Second World War years, we lived at Albury- Wodonga, towns on the border of New South Wales and Victoria. My Father worked on the Railways as an Engine Fireman, and qualified as a Driver in 1943. We lived close to the line, and it was always exciting to watch the trains go by. When Dad was in the area he would make the engine give a special whistle, to let us know he was about. It was like a wolf whistle. He had a knack in the way he pulled the cord that sounded the whistle. Other Drivers used to try the same to tease Mum, but they never got it quite right. We always knew when it was Dad.
There was a lot of Army activity in the area as one of the main training bases was at Bonegilla and a supply base at Bandiana. We used to watch the trains loaded up with guns, tanks, trucks, etc all heading North. Accommodation was at a premium, and the Army used to inspect your house. If you had a spare bedroom, you were compelled to billot Army personal. We used to always have a married officer living with us, with his family.
I can remember one couple who had a Daughter my age, both four. We become playmates, and one day were down the side of the house. For some unknown reason we decided to have a pee. She went first, I could not see much of the action as she squatted. However I remember the puddle in the dust. Then came my turn, and of course I did not need to squat, I could do it standing up. She became very interested and said "What's that." I explained that it is my "Dickie,"and you haven't got one. She got upset and began to cry, and run into her Mother. Her Mother wanted to know what was wrong. She said "I want a dickie, I want a dickie." Her Mother tried to comfort her and said "Don't worry Darling, with what you've got, you will get plenty of those." Never did understand what she meant by that.
Ahhh,the good old days.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 14, 2014 22:39:11 GMT -5
Where/how I was raised, the term was a "Peter."
Once I remember being told what I thought was a riddle, "never rob 'Peter' to pay 'Paul' because that will make 'Peter' sore and it is impossible to do business with a sore 'Peter.' Never did understand that...tongue in cheek. Is that what you mean by "the good old days?"
Or was it further back when a smoking lamp was lit down by the men's biffy? That really was "the good old days," now long gone leaving only the faint memory of tobacco smoke lingering with the stench of that old biffy.
Some now would hotly deny such ever occurred at convention, however it did in those "good old days."
Once, one of the preachers sat on the platform in a tent meeting with his older companion. He had a habit of leaning back on his chair. On this occasion he leaned too far, went over backward, made a grab to try to stop his pending topsy-turvey, caught the tent sidewall, ripping everything down along with him. He was a ruddy complection fellow and resumed his former place red as a warning flag. When people saw he was unhurt, laughter at the memory and his discomfort broke out. His older companion was attempting to let the crowd restore its decorum, when a very young voice broke the slowly growing silence. "Do it again, mister...?" That meeting had to be dismissed. Eyup, part of the good old days.
Or at the Silverdale B.C. convention when microphones were first taking hold. Jack Carroll was preaching and a thunder and lightening storm struck, causing interrupted power to that P.A. System. Now old Jack Carroll could really bellar out, but he could not compete with that storm, and the lights and P.A. power cutting in and out. More of the good old days, eh what?
Yeppers, time, she be a passin' for sure!
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Post by snow on Dec 15, 2014 11:17:16 GMT -5
How about all the old women in the sleeping barns banging on the walls to get us kids to be quiet!! That just made us giggle more. Which of course resulted in more pounding.
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Post by slowtosee on Dec 15, 2014 12:55:48 GMT -5
Sneaking into your friends camper trailer , during convention and raising up the mobile TV antenna that is hooked up to nothing, but air, and then make a remark about how disappointing it is that people watch TV between meetings , within earshot of a very legalistic hardline disciplinarian worker , and stand back and watch the whole saga and drama unfold. No heart attacks but definitely high blood pressure was experienced by participants and defendants. Btw - I only heard of this happening. And I was not guilty but couldn't resist a smile anyhow. All turned out well and no excommunicatins or new "resting" workers on the list added from this "misunderstanding. Alvin
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2014 15:16:54 GMT -5
How about all the old women in the sleeping barns banging on the walls to get us kids to be quiet!! That just made us giggle more. Which of course resulted in more pounding. Gee wez! Snow, aren't you glad you are no longer in the fellowship when you become an old woman to get repaid for tormenting those poor old women?
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Post by snow on Dec 15, 2014 19:56:07 GMT -5
How about all the old women in the sleeping barns banging on the walls to get us kids to be quiet!! That just made us giggle more. Which of course resulted in more pounding. Gee wez! Snow, aren't you glad you are no longer in the fellowship when you become an old woman to get repaid for tormenting those poor old women? Yet another reason to quit!! ha! However, I'm deaf so all I would have to do was take my hearing aides out and they could giggle and whisper all night and I'd sleep like a babe!
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2014 20:44:07 GMT -5
One of the early Workers in Victoria, Australia was Walter Pickering. He came from New Zealand and his life was dedicated to preaching the Gospel. He would have had more converts in those early days, than the other Workers. He liked to get into remote places, and country locations. My Mum, her Brothers, and their friends were his converts. There was a large group of them. And we their families followed in their footsteps, so the numbers were quite large.
A weekly meeting program was like this. 1. Sunday afternoon fellowship. 2. Sunday night gospel first location. 3. Monday night gospel second location. 4. Tuesday night gospel at a private home. Usually older persons who looked like they would profess. 5. Wednesday night subject meeting. 6. Thursday night gospel first location. 7. Friday night gospel second location. 8. Night off. No way. After dinner the junior Worker would be asked by Mr. Pickering to read notes to us.
I can tell you that by Saturday night you had meeting fatigue, especially us kids. Then on Sunday it started again. At least we were not distracted with TV or Radio. There would not have been time.
Ahhh, the good old days.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2014 20:49:20 GMT -5
One of the early Workers in Victoria, Australia was Walter Pickering. He came from New Zealand and his life was dedicated to preaching the Gospel. He would have had more converts in those early days, than the other Workers. He liked to get into remote places, and country locations. My Mum, her Brothers, and their friends were his converts. There was a large group of them. And we their families followed in their footsteps, so the numbers were quite large. A weekly meeting program was like this. 1. Sunday afternoon fellowship. 2. Sunday night gospel first location. 3. Monday night gospel second location. 4. Tuesday night gospel at a private home. Usually older persons who looked like they would profess. 5. Wednesday night subject meeting. 6. Thursday night gospel first location. 7. Friday night gospel second location. 8. Night off. No way. After dinner the junior Worker would be asked by Mr. Pickering to read notes to us. I can tell you that by Saturday night you had meeting fatigue, especially us kids. Then on Sunday it started again. At least we were not distracted with TV or Radio. There would not have been time. Ahhh, the good old days. wow thats quite a schedule....here we just have sunday morning meeting sunday afternoon gospel and wednesday bible studies if they have a gospel meeting on a weekday they usually cancel the wednesday study.....
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Post by Deleted on Dec 16, 2014 4:49:18 GMT -5
In the good old days in the 60 's I was walking across Westminister Bridge in London on my way to work at the County Hall, and as I was walking past a Police Officer, I smiled and said to him "good morning" a polite greeting ; his responge was: " what's so good about it, if you are not careful I'll put you somewhere where you'll wipe that smile off your face and then you would'nt think it was a good morning. I thought to myself, charming, what a miserable sod, must have had a bad night.
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Post by slowtosee on Dec 16, 2014 6:31:14 GMT -5
Must have been the same guy who I spoke to earlier and told him, " have a good day". And he replied " sorry. But I have other plans,,,". Alvin
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