Fair enough, Old Nail...

old nail you seem to have a problem with breakins, buy a shotgun and a load of body bags, problem sorted

It's because they are curious of what I have I think, and the honest answer is 'nothing that would interest them'. I leased quite a large house just because it had a garage and plenty of driveway to allow me to restore the 2cv, to others it must look like I'm loaded?

DA I'm sorry if I sound harsh with those comments but it's horses for courses mate. I could sit and down a bottle of wine or two with good folk like yourself no problem, in fact I'd relish it, that's how life should be lived, unfortunately external circumstances often dictate that we behave otherwise.

Anyway, here are some photographs (net pix) that remind me of childhood. I wonder if that's where our love of old cars stemmed from?

I am sure this is the street in Liverpool where I grew up in the 50's. Having a swing on the gas lamp was very cool.

Not harsh at all, Old Nail; I'm just genuinely sorry that people in this country suffer when all they want - & deserve - is a decent quality of life without being f***ed around by twits. I have no doubt at all that I would feel exactly the same way as you do were I to be living where you are now, having to put up with the scum you seem to have to. I know that my time in Kennington, London was limited because of that - there is no way I would stay there, especially if having kids was to be part of the equation.

I wonder, tho', if you were to swap with an equivalent place in France would things be more different? I don't know what your plans are and how you hope to achieve your dream, but I can't help thinking it must be a bit more tricky than just crossing the Channel?

Have you ever 'done up' a property? It strikes me as the ideal thing for a man with your talents to do. It is rewarding in every sense - for the soul and for the pocket. And probably the single most certain way to achieve your dream.

old nail, start a how to do up a french house thread!!

That first pic of the old car, Old Nail - jeepers, that brings back memories for me too. I had an eccentric uncle on the Island who had a number of similar wrecks lying around his 'garden'. I remember they all had massive running boards and flip-out trafficators (the number of shocks I received from these as I'd play and experiment with them as a kid - my fingers still tingle to think of it...) No idea what makes these glorious cars were, but they all had huge sweeping wings, black coachwork and - the best thing of all - were laid on their sides so we'd have to climb over them to get in and play!

So easy to feel misty-eyed about these times - and I do. It also felt like 'safe' times - and it was. But, I have to suggest, that this was also largely down to a type of 'brainwashing' - why did children seemingly behave? Because they had - literally - the fear of God put into them. Could they 'express' themselves? No. What if you discovered you were gay? Well, I can think back now on a number of tragic tales of a young man who took his own life 'for no reason'.

And we didn't always 'behave' either. IN our early teens, we'd steal the family car whilst M&D were having their Sunday afternoon nap - pushing it down the road out of ear-shot before bump starting it up and heading off to explore the Island. Insurance? You got to be kidding. And when we discovered how to make pipe-bombs, we'd then go on a rampage of blowing up the little outdoor loos which were built next to the sheilings (small wooden huts out in the 'Moor' where villagers used to take their summer hols).

On balance - since we can't have it both ways - I think I'll choose today, and spend my efforts finding a location that best reflects yesterday...

I mustn't be too hypocritical about this.

As much as I might deride current Health and Safety regulations - and some have clearly gone way beyond a joke - I, personally, wouldn't allow my kids to do the things that we were 'allowed' to as kids on the Island. Our 'freedom' meant we would simply walk out of the house at any time we wanted - and this was usually after breakfast - and then come back when we were hungry. Between these times we'd be climbing cliffs, swimming in the sea, making bombs, climbing anything that could be climbed, burning anything that could be burned, exploring derelict houses, building rafts from 45-gallon oil drums and driftwood and everything else that I simply couldn't bear to let my two kids do nowadays. And I honestly don't know if I'm wrong in that.

Whilst acknowledging that some aspects of H&S has become a bit silly, it's important to appreciate that the 'school insists pupils wear crash helmets as they walk under trees...' headline is either (a) plain untrue, or (b) the result of the action of an isolated loony head teacher.

I took my kids to a local fireworks display at a hotel in Barnstaple a few years ago - our youngest was in a pushchair, and my li'l boy was sitting on my shoulders. One rocket released itself virtually parallel with the ground and shot over my head missing my toddler by what could only have been a few feet. Another rocket did cover the ground and ended up in the car park. So, H&S has its purpose.

For anyone who was curious about the location of that photograph which I posted, it was taken by the celebrated French photographer, Marc Riboud, during his visit to Leeds in 1954.
< http://www.marcriboud.com/marcriboud/accueil.html >
Click on 'Archives', then 'Leeds'.

Pity that the planners decided it was a such a good idea to bulldoze these well established communities, breaking them up and forcing people to live in soulless high rise blocks...

ken

Believe it or not I currently live in a relatively 'nice' area!
And no, the trick is not to move into an equivalent area in France, but a rural one in which the worst affectations of the city dwellers hold no sway. France is so large and rural so there is still plenty of scope to do that.

The town I left behind is the stuff of nightmares, if you have ever watched 'Shameless' on channel 4 and thought it was a work of fiction then think again, because that's the sanitised non-violent TV version of where I came from.

The morning after I hit the intruder I found a tooth and a squashed frog on my driveway. I was more concerned about the squashed frog, as I didn't remember standing on it the poor thing. The raiders tooth concerned me only insofar as I didn't know which bin to throw it into, I mean do knocked out teeth go in with plastics, normal rubbish, or recyclables? Shouldn't want to get fined for putting it in the wrong one.

I've lived a funny old life. Once again this morning my wife has asked me to write a book on my experiences, not an autobiography, as that sounds far too grand, just a series of reminiscences from a life that has had more twists and turns than is normal, or even credible some might think. I could tell you tales that would make you go grey overnight.

I was also struck by something that Russell said in his post that the pretty decent life he leads seems 'normal' to him, as it would of course. But we often overlook the fact that to those of us who were once submerged in a culture of daily violence, crime, guns, drugs or whatever malady, come to seethat too accepted as 'normal'.



I have never done up a property, in the same way that I've never done up a car, but I'm not afraid to have a go. The French place is in need of renovation, and my plan is to restore it then live mortgage free and undisturbed, while filling my land with rusty old French cars to tinker with!