Y'man

Yes, Colin's Sister, John's daughter, name escapes me but she married Dave way back. Sorry to hear about John, he looked after us when we were kids, always gave us a place to get into out of the cold. Mum's a lovely lady too, hope she's well. My Mother caught a tram from the stop where that bomb came down, where the Co-op is now. She hadn't got as far as Hornimans when the bomb hit. Five minutes later......

I think I'm a generation or so down from most posters on here. I remember Eric Leggon, when I was a kid. I also remember the Carrs, Barry & Alan, they moved down to Bridgend as I recall and either Alan or Barry was killed in a car crash. There was a sweetshop on the corner of Landcroft & Goodrich called Blackmores, he always had an old, yellow (NSU) motor scooter parked outside. On the opposite corner was Bartlett's a grocery shop, one of the daughters was named Sue. There were also the Lockes, Father was a costermonger, had a lorry which he parked in Goodrich Road. Bottom of Landcroft, in the newer houses possibly number ten, were the Smiths, Edwin, Nicky, Paul, Neil and I think there was one other, elder.

Dr. Gunawardene died back in the early eighties, he was my Doctor during the 60's & 70's. I didn't know he was a Doctor there as far back as the 40's. Yes, he was struck off for a time but re-instated when it was found that the emergency termination he performed actually saved the woman's life. My family joined his books from MacMillan down on East Dulwich Rd, opposite Poo Park (Goose Green). I remember the park service entrance at Court Lane Gardens, along that track were plum, almond and crabapple trees which my mate & I would scrump, at different times of the year of course. There was a second lady Parkkeeper whose name I can't remember and there was also Bob, a lovely man with a full, Grizzly Adams type beard. He liked kids and kept us under control diplomatically.

I used to pal around with John Sissons' son, Colin, back in the Sixties & Seventies. I well remember his Grandmother, she used to chase us all over Dulwich Park. When I was a little kid I recall Dai Hughes in Northcross Dairy, he delivered milk locally with a hand operated electric cart. The Doctor in pellatt Rd in my day was Gunawardene. A jolly, rotund little man from Sri Lanka with hairy ears and pince nez, he always had a cup of weak tea on his desk, like water with just a few tea leaves in the bottom of the cup. A nice Man badly slighted then reprieved. Does anyone remember the name of the small motor repair shop inbetween the EDT and Dews the tobacconist? The back entrance came out onto Spurling where the 37 bus terminated.

For the price of one.

If I had a hammer - Peter, Paul & Mary

Goodness, someone here is in South Africa? Don't tell S M, she'll have a hissy fit.

India - 81/3, love it. In a spot of bother!

Brendan Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Fourteen > > http://www.van-gogh-on-canvas.com/images/fourteen_ > sunflowers_in_a_vase.jpg That's fifteen.

Cow dung ect, yes indeed!

Ooh, right on the nerve, I had a feeling that some would recognise themselves! Next.

It's not a 'woman thing', it's an everyone thing. All animals suffer corruption of brain cells as we age. It helps to use it as much as you can, it's like a muscle, if you don't use it you'll lose it. As we progress there will always be someone coming along behind that can learn and do what you've been doing for years quicker than you now can and with their eyes shut. Just like you used to do it.

Actually, MP, I don't frequent. I got all that out of my system when I was younger.

Oh Keef, you're too close, you have no idea how ludicrously comical this all is.

If you have any complaints about my posting on a forum in my home town, make it to admin. And Southeast is one word!

New suede shoes - Elvis Presley

Converation with an ******** friend's 10 year old daughter, where do Chickens come from? Answer, "the supermarket"!

Woolworths is/was originally American.

Where Ebay shows us how far we've regressed intellectually, the invention of the mobile phone, that latter-life comforting titty, has shown us how ridiculously self important we are. I once thought it sporadic, it's actually far too abundant. Having said that, I can see their function in times of crisis as somewhat valuable and plan on purchasing one soon. My problem is that I don?t know which one to buy and to that end, maybe someone can help me. As I said, I really just want it for emergency purposes, I don?t need one to take bad quality photos, I have a bad quality camera for that. It doesn?t need to record anything, although I can see the beauty of that to some but not I. It won?t be necessary for it to make obnoxious squeaking tones at every step and I don?t want one that will turn me into a loud mouthed delinquent; like we see so much these days. I wonder also, is there a phone into which I wouldn?t have to shout at the top of my voice in order that whoever I might speak to can hear me? Also I?d need one without the automatic ?dough boy? facility, you know, the phone which presumably emits a ringing tone that compels the user to suddenly jump up in an absolutely quiet, yet very public, place and march around like an erratic robot roaring monosyllabic inconsequentials that only suffice to wake the slumbering, post feeding babes and napping pensioners within a 200 yard radius. Yes, it would have to be a phone which does not turn me into an absolute moron, like..... .... the one owned by a certain ?Ms. Cottrel? [sp] who, on the 30th of November 2007 on a packed train between the South coast and Clapham Junction (where she alighted to a reverberance of dumbfounded laughter and amazement), saw an advert in the paper she was reading, promptly and in far less less than dulcet tones, ordered Bon Jovi tickets on her phone within clear earshot of at least a dozen people, giving her name, address, telephone number, credit card number, security code & email address to the booking office clerk. Her 15 minutes of fame and a lifetime of ridicule! Or..... .....the one as owned by ?Phillip?, who, whilst waiting for a flight in the main lounge of the South terminal at Gatwick Airport on Friday the 18th of July 2008, decided the time was ripe to order travel insurance for his upcoming trip to Turkey, Hong Kong and New Zealand giving the self same information as the aforementioned Ms Cottrel, loudly and clearly in the vicinity of five other people, two right behind him and self included. No no, I don?t want a phone that will turn me into an inexplicable bonehead of the highest order, I just want one that will be handy in emergencies. Can anyone point me in the right direction?

Another gas station attendant in Georgia, back the 70's, told me, "Hey Man, I just love your accent". I told her I liked hers too, as I was rushing off to the 'bathroom'. Ten minutes later as I walked out she shouted after me, "Hey Man, I'd just love to sit on your accent for a while"! One of the most endearing things I've been told.

Anecdote does not equal anti! Ba ba Black Sheep does not equal racism.

A 'gas station' attendant in Arkansas, upon noticing my accent, asked me where I was from. I told him, London. He thought for a bit then said "Which state is that in?"!

Looking forward to tomorrow's 1 dayer. I tipped India for the last one and got in by the skin of my teeth, more luck than judgement. This one I'll have Sri Lanka but it'll be close again, I think.

Pipped me too, deep, philosophical, yeah, all that & more. Love it.:)

Shhhh, don't tell anyone, I'll go hungry on Saturday evening.