Stories from your childhood

Very true Frank.

I was one of those kids who went to a neighbours house to watch telly.

And before we got BBC or as it was called "the foreign channel", I used to go to my neighbours house to watch Match of the Day or Top of the Pops.

As a child , these were the comics I used to buy ...... Dell ......Classic . Not a DC Or Marvel in sight .







Edited by monarch - 15-October-2014 at 12:43

Remember going to your neighbours house  to use their phone ???

In the days before the expression " Trick Or Treat " crossed The Atlantic , we used ask for " Apples or Nuts For The Halloween Party " .

Is that the operator on the line?

As a young boy I used to hate this time of year for the following reason . Back in the day boys used to wear short trousers and when the weather got colder I got cold sores from the chafing where trousers met the leg . This is why I always wanted to wear corduroy trousers because I found they didn't cause these sores .

Remember them well Frank. 

...

Used to love this poem as a child .


William Allingham. 1824–1889

769. The Fairies

UP the airy mountain,     
Down the rushy glen,     
We daren't go a-hunting     
For fear of little men;     
Wee folk, good folk,             5
Trooping all together;     
Green jacket, red cap,     
And white owl's feather!     

Down along the rocky shore     
Some make their home,      10
They live on crispy pancakes     
Of yellow tide-foam;     
Some in the reeds     
Of the black mountain lake,     
With frogs for their watch-dogs,      15
All night awake.     

High on the hill-top     
The old King sits;     
He is now so old and gray     
He 's nigh lost his wits.      20
With a bridge of white mist     
Columbkill he crosses,     
On his stately journeys     
From Slieveleague to Rosses;     
Or going up with music      25
On cold starry nights     
To sup with the Queen     
Of the gay Northern Lights.     

They stole little Bridget     
For seven years long;      30
When she came down again     
Her friends were all gone.     
They took her lightly back,     
Between the night and morrow,     
They thought that she was fast asleep,      35
But she was dead with sorrow.     
They have kept her ever since     
Deep within the lake,     
On a bed of flag-leaves,     
Watching till she wake.      40

By the craggy hill-side,     
Through the mosses bare,     
They have planted thorn-trees     
For pleasure here and there.     
If any man so daring      45
As dig them up in spite,     
He shall find their sharpest thorns     
In his bed at night.     

Up the airy mountain,     
Down the rushy glen,      50
We daren't go a-hunting     
For fear of little men;     
Wee folk, good folk,     
Trooping all together;     
Green jacket, red cap,      55
And white owl's feather!