School memories

**hallelujah** · 12-11-2021, 11:06 PM

Originally Posted by malmomike77

In the 70's we used to live in a place and up the road was a chap who used to grow prized Dahlias. As lads we were always playing footie and used to play a game where you kicked the ball off his roof and the idea was to get it over the top or to get it to bounce back clearing his fenced in garden which contained his dahlias.

The ball frequently landed in this garden and the offender had to retrieve it which was OK when he wasn't at home. When he caught us and or the ball he used to give us a hell of bollocking and he was a burly fireman so he has scary. He eventually got fed up and started puncturing balls. Cant blame him, we were really annoying little shits.

What's a dahlia? A flower?

**malmomike77** · 12-11-2021, 11:11 PM

**Neverna** · 12-11-2021, 11:14 PM

Originally Posted by hallelujah

Ouch...

...We were playing cricket on the old school fields in the summer with my mate bowling at me - he couldn't bat to save his life, but he could bowl very fast and had put a few school windows through behind me - and I've come out of my crease and hit him for 6! I hit him on the up on the sweet spot of my bat.

This shot was once in a lifetime and probably the best shot I've ever played - even to this day I think of it, I had creamed him - but it was sailing for the church windows behind the fence, and it inevitably went right through the first glazed window and another commandment was shattered.

The nuns and priest thought less of it than I did

, but what a shot it was, nev. I'm typing this and can still see it as it left my bat.

Ah, a beaut, and great memories. You were obviously much better at cricket than I was.

I used to enjoy playing street cricket after school and at weekends with a tennis ball and a lamp-post for the wickets. Great fun and safe. But one day at school the PE teacher decided we would all play real cricket with real wickets and a real ball. For some unknown reason he put me in as wicket keeper, whcih I knew fuck all about apart from seeing a bit now and again on the telly. Well, I stood there right behind the wickets waiting for the ball to come. And it came. At about a hundred fucking miles an hour. Too fast for the batsman to play the ball and too fucking fast for me to even see it let alone catch it. And it hit me smack in the middle of my fucking forehead. Knocked me flat on my back, it did. After that I learned about where to stand for different speed bowling; a fast ball or a slow spinner. They could have told me before! Bastards. You live and learn, eh?

**hallelujah** · 12-11-2021, 11:16 PM

Originally Posted by Neverna

Ah, memories. You were obviously much better at cricket than I was.

I used to enjoy playing street cricket after school and at weekends with a tennis ball and a lamp-post for the wickets. Great fun and safe. But one day in at school the PE teacher decided we would all play real cricket with real wickets and a real ball. For some unknown reason he put me in as wicket keeper, whcih I knew fuck all about apart from seeing a bit now and again on the telly. Well, I stood there right behind the wickets waiting for the ball to come. And it came. At about a hundred fucking miles an hour. Too fast for the batsman to play the ball and too fucking fast for me to even see it let alone catch it. And it hit me smack in the middle of my fucking forehead. Knocked me flat on my back, it did. After that I learned about where to stand for different speed bowling; a fast ball or a slow spinner. They could have told me before! Bastards. You live and learn, eh?

I'm sat here reading this and, quite honestly, fucking pissing myself laughing along to it.

**malmomike77** · 12-11-2021, 11:18 PM

^^ it is a good job as kids you heal and recovery quickly. Its ridiculous the scrapes and knocks you get and dust yourself off and get on with it. Both my shins are completely dented from foot to kneecap and i barely remember the kicks from footie rugger and hockey that gave them to me. Same with some of the dents in my head

**hallelujah** · 12-11-2021, 11:21 PM

Originally Posted by Neverna

Ah, a beaut, and great memories. You were obviously much better at cricket than I was.

I used to enjoy playing street cricket after school and at weekends with a tennis ball and a lamp-post for the wickets. Great fun and safe. But one day at school the PE teacher decided we would all play real cricket with real wickets and a real ball. For some unknown reason he put me in as wicket keeper, whcih I knew fuck all about apart from seeing a bit now and again on the telly. Well, I stood there right behind the wickets waiting for the ball to come. And it came. At about a hundred fucking miles an hour. Too fast for the batsman to play the ball and too fucking fast for me to even see it let alone catch it. And it hit me smack in the middle of my fucking forehead. Knocked me flat on my back, it did. After that I learned about where to stand for different speed bowling; a fast ball or a slow spinner. They could have told me before! Bastards. You live and learn, eh?

it must have been like this:

**russellsimpson** · 12-11-2021, 11:35 PM

Mr. Reginald Danforth was a well respected playwright on Upper Broadway. He was however, due to unforeseen circumstances, temporarily working as our drama teacher at North Kamloops Junior/Senior Secondary, a school of around 500 in rural British Columbia. Mr Danforth was a man with a very large 'chip' located on each shoulder. He liked the centre lane of our major hallway and would use his two shoulders to clear the centr lane of traffic. When Mr. Danforth was in the hallway student would simply stand against the lockers until he had passed. There were occasions when students failed to realize he was present in which case he would be forced to shoulder then into the lockers. For the year he was at the school he never changed and presumably non of his superiors sat him down for a talk. I was thinking about this the other day and couldn't help but laugh.

**Neverna** · 12-11-2021, 11:45 PM

Originally Posted by hallelujah

it must have been like this:

Brilliant.

That reminds me of another PE teacher we had, a new PE teacher from Wales. This guy decided we would play rugby one winter's day. Nobody in the school knew how to play fucking rugby, it was a football and cricket school, but he didn't care. He just gave us the ball and told us to get on with it. Well, when I say nobody knew how to play rugby, there was one lad, a big strapping lad who was twice the size of anyone else in the school, and he seemed to pick it up real quick. Once he got the ball he just ran and ran towards the try-line and bulldozed anyone who got in the fucking way, a bit like Jonah Lomu. So everybody soon learned what to do so as not to get bulldozed and hurt. Give the big lad the ball and let him do as he pleases!! He went on to score dozens of tries that day. Nobody dared tackle him and of course nobody got hurt. Win-win! But I don't think the PE teacher was impressed cuz that was the last time he asked us to play rugby.

**hallelujah** · 12-11-2021, 11:56 PM

Originally Posted by Neverna

Brilliant.

That reminds me of another PE teacher we had, a new PE teacher from Wales. This guy decided we would play rugby one winter's day. Nobody in the school knew how to play fucking rugby, it was a football and cricket school, but he didn't care. He just gave us the ball and told us to get on with it. Well, when I say nobody knew how to play rugby, there was one lad, a big strapping lad who was twice the size of anyone else in the school, and he seemed to pick it up real quick. Once he got the ball he just ran and ran towards the try-line and bulldozed anyone who got in the fucking way, a bit like Jonah Lomu. So everybody soon learned what to do so as not to get bulldozed and hurt. Give the big lad the ball and let him do as he pleases!! He went on to score dozens of tries that day. Nobody dared tackle him and of course nobody got hurt. Win-win! But I don't think the PE teacher was impressed cuz that was the last time he asked us to play rugby.

That's pretty much how American "sports" work though and why they are widely regarded as the worst in the world that nobody gives a fuck about.

**Neverna** · 12-11-2021, 11:59 PM

Originally Posted by malmomike77

^^ it is a good job as kids you heal and recovery quickly. Its ridiculous the scrapes and knocks you get and dust yourself off and get on with it. Both my shins are completely dented from foot to kneecap and i barely remember the kicks from footie rugger and hockey that gave them to me. Same with some of the dents in my head

Indeed. As young lads, we used to play conkers and one day a mate and I went for a bike ride and came acrross a big conker tree about 4 miles from home. My mate climbed up the tree and managed to walk along a big branch about 12 feet up to get to some conkers. That was fine until the branch broke underneath him and he came crashing to the ground, breaking his arm as he landed. Fuck knows how he managed to ride his bike home with a broken arm but he did.

**Joe 90** · 13-11-2021, 06:44 AM

Watched that Kes clip and it's a classic!

As for school memories, I fooking hated it.
It was a breath of fresh air first out of the gates at 15 and never looked back.
Full of bullying snobby kids that didn't amount to anything.

My most memorable experience was a foreign exchange trip to Switzerland aged 11 for 10 glorious days.
Oh and Miss Bartlet my history teacher, one in my wank bank.

**Joe 90** · 13-11-2021, 06:50 AM

Originally Posted by armstrong

Being put next to the class weirdo in the hope that by me being sensible it would force him to be

Still common practice in UK schools, lazy teaching if you ask me.

Years ago they used to put all the autistic,aspergers, general trouble makers in one classroom out of the way and leave them to it.
Generally with a supervisor "teacher" like the two muppets above.

**Backspin** · 13-11-2021, 07:07 AM

Originally Posted by armstrong

We used to play in the graveyard using the stones as posts...

Rough crowd

**Joe 90** · 13-11-2021, 07:25 AM

We had a maths teacher who was a demon shot with a piece of chalk!
He knew instinctively who was talking behind his back as he scribbled Algebra on the black board and would spin around lightning fast like the Sundance kid and propell a direct hit on the perpetrators head then order them to retrieve his chalk.

**Joe 90** · 13-11-2021, 07:30 AM

Paul Waddle the school bully, everyone avoided the deranged lunatic who had developed physically very young and used it to his advantage.
Funnily enough I spoke to the reprobate several years later in a local pub and the cvnt was a sad little weasel of a man who's growth had stopped age 13.
I pitied him and left him to his misery.

**Joe 90** · 13-11-2021, 07:31 AM

Fvcking hell Hal, you've opened a can of worms here.
TD psychotherapy for free

Can't wait to hear Cyrilles stories...

**cyrille** · 13-11-2021, 07:37 AM

You'd be mashing them up and droning on about them for years.

About five years ago I listed half a dozen reasons why I'd never buy a bookshop - and look what happened there.

And anyway, what 'stories' have you shared?

Whining about being the class weed and getting a stiffy for your history teacher aren't 'stories'.

**S Landreth** · 13-11-2021, 07:43 AM

This thread should be retitled.

“How dull was your life growing up? Share your story” or “I was a child once and blew it. Share your story.”

I’ll pick it up some.

On my way to school there was a well-maintained open field about a city block in area.

The property was filled about 3 feet high so there were inclines around the property.

I had a nice street legal dirt bike, larger (hp) than I was permitted to ride at my age at the time. That’s another story related to school.

I was making runs over the incline jumping into the air.

Example……

I decided to push it one more time before continuing to class.

Next thing I remember I was in a hospital bed with my younger sister sitting next to me introducing herself and telling me that the school bus driver and her saw me lying in the field with the motorcycle not far from me.

Concussion and loss of memory. No broken bones, but had to purchase a new Bell helmet before getting back on the bike.

Now the memorable part. Visitors

First visitor was a young (1 year older than me) beautiful hippy chick and heading straight for the bed where I was.

I asked my sister who it was. She told me it was my girlfriend. I’m thinking,…….how nice.

Next visitor was an older woman who stopped at the door. I asked the girlfriend who it was. She told me it was my mother. My mother had heard the question and answer and started crying.

During the 5 nights, more friends and family came to visit before I was released from the hospital after regaining my memory.

Visiting hours.

The hospital staff would chase everyone off after a certain hour, except for the girlfriend. Her father was a doctor and known at the hospital so they gave her some leeway.

Every night while in the hospital that young woman would remind me how wonderful a girlfriend she was.

**armstrong** · 13-11-2021, 07:44 AM

Originally Posted by Neverna

Ah, a beaut, and great memories. You were obviously much better at cricket than I was.

I used to enjoy playing street cricket after school and at weekends with a tennis ball and a lamp-post for the wickets. Great fun and safe. But one day at school the PE teacher decided we would all play real cricket with real wickets and a real ball. For some unknown reason he put me in as wicket keeper, whcih I knew fuck all about apart from seeing a bit now and again on the telly. Well, I stood there right behind the wickets waiting for the ball to come. And it came. At about a hundred fucking miles an hour. Too fast for the batsman to play the ball and too fucking fast for me to even see it let alone catch it. And it hit me smack in the middle of my fucking forehead. Knocked me flat on my back, it did. After that I learned about where to stand for different speed bowling; a fast ball or a slow spinner. They could have told me before! Bastards. You live and learn, eh?

They always put me out in the field. I'd be the one sat down at the boundary making daisy chains.

**Joe 90** · 13-11-2021, 08:07 AM

Originally Posted by S Landreth

was a child once and blew it.

Who said youth was wasted on the young?

**hallelujah** · 13-11-2021, 03:53 PM

Originally Posted by Joe 90

Paul Waddle the school bully, everyone avoided the deranged lunatic who had developed physically very young and used it to his advantage.
Funnily enough I spoke to the reprobate several years later in a local pub and the cvnt was a sad little weasel of a man who's growth had stopped age 13.
I pitied him and left him to his misery.

It's funny how you see people now and get chatting about what they've done with their lives; the fittest girl in school working at Tesco, having never left her own city etc.

**malmomike77** · 13-11-2021, 04:01 PM

Originally Posted by S Landreth

This thread should be retitled.

“How dull was your life growing up? Share your story” or “I was a child once and blew it. Share your story.”

Not everyone has rock star childhoods to boast about, after they remembered them - what is it with you Americans and one-upmanship?

Anyway lets carry on with our mundane recollections

**nidhogg** · 13-11-2021, 05:06 PM

One abiding memory was a classmate having to leave school as she was pregnant.

She was 13.

**cyrille** · 13-11-2021, 05:11 PM

Originally Posted by S Landreth

This thread should be retitled.

“How dull was your life growing up? Share your story” or “I was a child once and blew it. Share your story.”

I’ll pick it up some

.

hal, where’s that cock pic?

**dirk diggler** · 16-11-2021, 01:13 PM

Originally Posted by armstrong

We used to play in the graveyard using the stones as posts...

I started playing the Trombone at primary school, only because along with the case you had better goalposts than jumpers and you could actually get a post-and-in without getting into a fight about it.

I couldn't ever read music and could only blag it by memory for so long until the music teacher, Dr Proctor, gave it to another kid. The thing was mangled.

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