A response to Jane

Hi Jane, here’s a quick response to your Map Monday: indigenous history around the world, pre- and post-colonization with me sharing a little more detail from my comment, as you know I always enjoy your thoughtful and fascinating Map postings.

Generally when someone reaches their fifties they begin to wonder about generations past, a time when they begin to research their family’s history which I did several years ago prompted by anecdotes handed down from my Grandmother.

As I said my Great Grandfather Matthew with wife Jane and two young children (more were to follow when they resituated to the UK) lived in South Africa at the turn of the nineteenth century, though we’re unsure if he travelled to fight for the British army in the 1898-1902 Boer War, or whether they were already living in SA having emigrated earlier. We’re unsure but we do know Matthew served as a military Trooper having been later awarded the Queen’s South Africa Medal pictured above, and you’ll see one bar attached to the braid reads Orange Free State however the Bethulie home Town photo reads Bethulie Orange River Colony which suggests they were already living in Bethulie, all treasured items given to me probably because I was the Grandchild who always asked to see them when I visited.

The point to my reply is Matthew served in the South African Constabulary in Bethulie a small Mission Town situated in the Orange River Colony, Bethulie has a shameful history being the site of the world’s first concentration camp used to imprison Boer women and children living in truly appalling conditions. Little is known about the black inmates of the camp but they were certainly there, A.G.H. Daller the first travelling inspector in the ORC observed the presence of black children as,

‘A peculiar feature is the presence of the families of “adopted” or “apprenticed” little coloured children – virtually slaves’, he noted. Their lives must have been hard for they received no rations, depending on their employers for food. As the black townspeople were virtually destitute, blacks in the camp could get little help from that quarter either.’

An appalling and shameful episode in Britain’s colonial past of which there are many, whether Church of England missionaries converting brown skinned girls and boys into Christian English speaking ‘subjects’, or transporting slaves to the America’s I’m afraid we have little to be proud of when talking Empire and her Colonies, the current troubles in Israel are a direct consequence of Britain’s meddling in Palestine.

So a question remains as to my Great Grandfather’s place in just one shameful colonial War, South Africa was quite literally a diamond jewel in Queen Victoria’s crown, our Matthew was a military policeman in a Concentration Camp Town fighting in a Colonial War, so as a family we’re left asking ourselves as a policeman what atrocities did he witness? He would have been aware of the camp housing 1700 prisoners but is there a darker side to my family’s history, might Matthew have visited or worked in the Camp? Questions we’ll never know the answer to and after all these years perhaps it’s best we don’t know.

A. Shepherdson 2021

Me (Andrew) aged 18 years

Untitled
This is me aged 18 a young fresh faced engineering apprentice, cheeky and smiling the photograph having been taken at work by my apprentice trainer, why an earth he was taking my photograph God only knows?…………… I’m wondering is he still with us? A great guy.

Big sigh, I gaze at this photo and think to myself ‘where an earth have those thirty four years gone?’ I look at my cheeky grin and wonder ‘which of my young friends am I looking across at?’ I can remember for certain feeling embarrassed and someone close by was making some sort of funny comment………. happy days I’m so pleased I discovered this photo as for a full head of hair I’m saying nothing!

I know it’s been a while but for the first time in many months I’m happy, not so depressed and feeling positive about life because Britain appears to be reopening for business, yesterday my Boss phoned to say I may be unfurloughed and return to work Monday Morning! Fingers crossed and there’ll be a posting from there for sure.

After ten weeks of legally enforceable home detention, only a single days exercise to purchase groceries from the Supermarket, perhaps the occasional illegal visit to my mother’s for a natter and shared cup of tea, yes due to unexpected political reasons Britain is rushing out of lockdown. You may be aware last weekend our Government completely trashed it’s corona virus health policy just so as to save one political advisor, the name of Dominic Cummings might ring a bell, all I can add is this very obnoxious arrogant Machiavellian civil servant MUST be deemed so important as to justify offending the entire nation and we really are angry. Never again will Johnson be able to call on the public to make sacrifices and follow his clear health instructions, with one lie all trust and compliance disappeared in the space of hours, so now we know, rules are made for us little people to follow yet are there to be broken by the ruling elite, but isn’t that the way it’s always been?

Military Generals strategize and plan their war campaigns, but it’s only the Privates who die in the trenches, time to move on, open schools and universities, get people back to work earning money and to be honest I’m not tooo disappointed, it’s all a question of expectations and in hindsight I’d never have expected Cummings to obey the Law anyway.

Google ‘Dominic Cummings broke the rules’ if you’re intrigued, then again I wouldn’t bother.

I’ll be completely honest, as I always am on this WordPress, the first thought crossing my mind after attaching this picture of my 18 year old self was err sex! Unsurprisingly my first hypothetical question to female (or lol male) readers is, if you met this guy way back in the day 1983/4 might you have slept with this young virgin? Lol don’t answer but just so as you know this pleasant anxious guy had many issues about his looks also low self esteem to such a point he never got laid until many years later, 123 ahhhh. What plays on my mind lol today and after many recent liaisons with older women, I’m feeling disheartened because I remember opportunities presented themselves on certain evenings out say no more, and occasional readers to this Blog might already be aware (they won’t so humour me) just might remember I hadn’t yet masturbated myself to orgasm still at age 18! I know unbelievable or what!

All I can add is we lived in different more innocent times, I’m the product of a school with appalling sex education policies because incredible as it may sound to some, I hadn’t yet worked out how to use my penis properly more’s the point like most people I guess I can’t say I was overly concerned. Yes I’d purchased a second hand copy of ‘Penthouse magazine’ from my friend ‘Paul Suker’, money and pornographic contraband exchanging hands one sports afternoon in the school gymnasium changing rooms, but and this still makes me angry today ( 😀 ) just imagine the years of pleasurable me time I’d missed out on? Am I unique or were many other girls and boys of the 70s equally as naïve?

Anyways back in the good old days and yes they were, sex was rarely spoken about and MOST DEFINITLEY content WASN’T as readily accessible as now……….. just imagine my 1980s TV had 3 Channels and one of those was the BBC and if ‘auntie Beeb’ ever made the cardinal sin of showing a pair of naked female breasts on screen, questions WOULD have been asked in The Houses of Parliament, I kid you not, ‘The Viewers and Listeners Society’ that powerful 1970’s self appointed moral compass of the nation would have cited obscenity laws and executive BBC heads might have rolled.

I’m of an older generation you see (I’m old) I’d yet to use a computer for the first time, the internet and www were the stuff of science fiction films and possibly a day dream eureka moment sparking Steve Jobs imagination, as of this very moment I could google ‘naked woman’, press return and well you get the idea, yes I’d kissed girls but as yet never consensually groped let alone sex. The photo above brings back so many returning memories, break times of listening to fellow apprentice dating tales (or bs stories who knows), secondhand lurid accounts of fingering girlfriends the evening before and yes young men spare few details in close company, hmm… I guess that’s how unfortunate young ladies garner a ‘bad’ reputation, then again I have a sense girls are NO different when chatting amongst friends.

Anyways moving on!

I discovered the above photograph whilst clearing out my spare room, thirty plus years have passed by for heavens sake, and gazing at my youthful cheeky grinned self again I can remember this moment snapped in time as if yesterday, in hindsight I don’t lol think I was such a bad looking young man, perhaps if I’d been a little more cavalier on our apprentice nights out together, not been as shy also blessed with the self confidence and silver tongues possessed by several colleagues, looking back I know I passed on opportunities (judge me), you don’t need reminding thoughts of sex cross a young mans imagination once every 3 minutes. Back in the day at breaktimes, we fifteen used to sit on a wall outside the apprentice training college and watch attractive young women walk past, and whether you ‘men hating lesbian feminists’ agree with me or not, these young women adored the admiring looks and good natured attention. Happy days.

Err not the posting I’d intended to write, but not to worry sooon I might be back at work which makes me very happy 🙂 . 

A. Shepherdson 2020

Dating a WordPress blogger

62fe14fb3d9153d58332424955ba7941
‘Brief Encounter’ – please note this ISN’T a post about movies

Btw a true story……..

Without wishing to repeat myself, but I’m going to anyway, I did indeed date a lady blogger I first met on the internet, we’ll name Maria shall we? Yes I met her on the internet and Maria befits a lady of around age 50, well I’m not gonna call her Rhiannon am I?

Funny how people’s names follow generational trends.

I digress. Let’s be more specific shall we, Maria blogged on WordPress as did I, not this blog, no my first had to be hastily deleted because this irate woman tracked me down, I knew her and it’s a longgggg story!

I’m possibly unique amongst internet daters, probably unusual in that I’ve featured on various platform genres, a traditional designed and specifically catering for middle aged lonely hearts, another with let’s less loftier ideals, commitment free, morally questionable, not so much a dating app as a meeting for drinks and probably hopefully for sex…… btw we’re not talking Tinder!

Though I’d love to.

So how did our WordPress relationship begin? I first commented a post written by Maria several years ago, I’d never set eyes on her before and meeting her in the flesh for real was the last thought on my/our minds, but life has a funny way of taking you in directions you’d never envisaged.

My advice to youngsters, learn to be flexible, the life you hoped for at sixteen probably wont play out as you expected.

My blogging adventure first began purely for reading pleasure, captivated by a genre known as sex blogs, middle aged women writing of extramarital affairs, exciting tales of gang gangs and hot steamy sex, thrilling passionate romance and looking back who knows if their tales were true?……. Fabulous reads leaving only one question, how does a guy’s penis remain hard for hours upon end?

I’m gonna go off message again ‘for a mo’, because I have trouble staying ‘hard’ for any longer than ten minutes, a lady and I will strip naked, we’ll kiss and cuddle, excitement builds, breath quickens as engorged blood flows, we’ll lay upon the bed, I’ll slip inside and however hard I try to delay ejaculation…… five minutes later and I’m spent! One time I excited myself tooo such an extent massaging my partner’s naked back, oiled palms pressing into warm skin, smoothing strokes the length of her spine, her face turned to one side serene relaxed and content, then came my turn for some sexy fun, my lady lowered her mouth over my purple bellend, drew me across her tongue before seconds later creamy semen burst inside her mouth…… do I suffer from premature ejaculation or hyper excitement?

“Sophie… I’m sorry” I sheepishly apologised!

“It happens” she glumly replied, cum dripping from her pretty lips.

Where was I? Oh yes Maria the WordPress blogger! Soon after reading her postings, or perhaps I’d just started my own I cannot remember, as happens we kinda made a connection here on WordPress, over time we became blog pals, our comment chat became longer, evermore personal in nature for I am a friendly personable guy. I guess a trust blossomed over the coming months, singular replies became commentary threads, neither had alteria motives, neither expected or wished for any more than friendly evening conversation, but as you do, we shared thoughts honesty and experiences I certainly hadn’t admitted to other women and certainly not on the internet!….. and cutting a long story short, hilarity fun and truthfulness ensued.

Maria wasn’t so much a sex blogger she posted photos of her voluptuous large round breasts, nipples pieced with hoops of gold, ass cheeks, tasteful naked body shots but never showing her face… nope if I ever walked past Maria in the street, I wouldn’t have battered an eye and nor she. Her blog was far from slutty though, a warm caring personality flowed from her text, I was smitten by this happy go lucky rather sweet natured middle aged lady, if a little overweight but then again I’m no hunk!

Well several enjoyable flirty months passed, I posted photos of myself lying naked on my bed (never done that before or since) and God knows nudity was my last intention when I first started….. though ours was all good clean adult fun. Three or four months passed happily then we exchanged email addresses and moved to private correspondence, btw never again, take it from me email romantic relationships (I’ve had four) can only go so far before they become……

Well the day came when we first exchanged photos, finally positioning a face alongside months of reading text anecdotes and stories, and I for one was pleasantly surprised, I’m gonna say little else than Maria possessed a cheery smile sparkly eyes and a pretty face befitting a woman her age…… oh and laying on a bed, legs slightly parted revealing a hint of her pussy! Shaven it was! 

Like I said we were blog pals.

We’ll leave Maria’s appearance there shall we, ‘walls have ears’, I trusted her photos implicitly, I had no doubt whatsoever Maria was sharing genuine recent photos of herself and I cannot stress that enough. I trusted her photos her honesty, and I had no doubt whatsoever if we met in person we’d instantly recognise the other.

No question.

Speaking from ‘not so bitter’ experience, photos are the dating deal breaker, when chatting with a woman online only one question nags at the imagination, a little voice reaffirming my mistrust of liars, wary the person I am chatting to isn’t the person in the photograph, but as transpired Maria was the lady in her photo.

…….. to be continued.

(I’ll leave you with one taster, yes we met in person and now to the $64,000 question, ‘did we enjoy our date?’ Yes.)

A. Shepherdson 2020

 

Saturday Dog minding!

Discussing our Brexit farce both upsets and depresses me, I will vote this Thursday however I’ll leave the ‘why  I must’ discussion for another day, so replacing my planned political posting I have a happy ‘doggy’ tale instead!

**************************************************************

Saturday the 18th May 2019 had been pencilled into my diary for quite some time, err perhaps I should be more honest and admit my mother INSTRUCTED me before Christmas I WAS to be helping her dog mind this last weekend, no arguments no discussions no excuses, a friend of hers had to attend an important family function, and mum agreed to look after their 7 month old Border collie all day Saturday through to Sunday morning because mum is a nice helpful person like that 😀 .

We as a family have owned black and white Border collies ever since I can remember, I’ve even shared their photos somewhere on this WordPress HOWEVER both mum and I had absentmindedly forgotten how much hard work looking after a puppy actually is. In fact mum phoned me this evening to say she was exhausted, also a little annoyed because a piece of paper sitting on the telephone table had been shredded, along with an email address she hasn’t a copy of!

Border collies are wonderful dogs, extremely intelligent, quick learners with a heightened sense of play, they’ll chase and retrieve a ball all day long, adore working to command with the only downside they demand a great deal of attention and mental stimulation, and if an owner hasn’t the time also patience to train and exercise collies, they can often become destructive with behavioural problems…………. they’re fun, lovely natured working animals, with energy to burn and most definitely not lap dogs.

The offshoot is our borrowed collie hardly paused to take breath ALL day, she shredded nearly every toy, dug a few plants up in the garden, did her best to try and entice my mother’s collie into playing games of ‘chase me’ around the living room carpet, and by Saturday evening and several outdoor walks (mum counted she walked 15,000 steps) all four of us were exhausted.

Yes I’d forgotten how demanding a breed they are, and even contemplated once or twice buying a puppy, that was never going to happen but our borrowed collie was a timely reminder these are working dogs, and if you want a collie pet then you must have the time to exercise and train. Watching them round up stock animals, agility and walking to command in the show ring is all good fun and very seductive, but they’re hard work and remember sleeping is for wimps! Lol 😀 .

Having said all that I wouldn’t own another breed, we all have our favourites and a Border collie is mine.

2
My mum, me behind the Smart phone camera, and our borrowed 7 month border collie for the day, Holly’s out of the frame and we’re sat in a local Pub garden. The landlady even brought a bowl of water over!

6a
‘Dog tired after today’s fun and games, and now it’s time for a little ‘nap’ on the sofa’.

A. Shepherdson 2019

‘Guest Post’ written by my late father

I’m hoping my Title above has intrigued you enough to read this very personal Posting. I’ll try to be brief with my introduction BUT I always say that don’t I!!

Dad sadly passed away early April 2019 after a long illness enough said. Well as you’d imagine we as a family have been busy with banking and legal documents etc hence a very good reason to clear and tidy through his study draws. AND AS ALWAYS HAPPENS when someone passes away, we discovered many long forgotten treasures including the typed manuscript of a fictional novel the name ‘Jennifer’ emblazoned in red ink across a Title page, but that’s a whole blog post all of its own which I’ll leave for another day!

We also discovered a folder crammed full of newspaper articles from the 1980s which I for one had clean forgotten about, and a selection of which I’ve photographed and shown below. Our local newspaper is called the Oxford Mail, every Town and every City across the world has its very own newspaper, although the internet has very probably moved them on-line however the Mail battles on in the Newsagents reporting local news to local people.

Well it turns out in the early 1980s my father wrote a ‘Mail’ guest column once a week, fifteen or so editions only and approximately 700 words long, themed on a variety of topics from family also childhood. Interesting readable pieces written with humour and from life’s experience and IMPORTANTLY Dad didn’t earn a penny because the Oxford Mail are known to be stingy with money, HOWEVER be totally aware he would neither have wanted or expected to be paid, I’d guess purchasing the stamps with glee because yes my father wrote through pure enjoyment, and I’d guess many of you reading here and now will nod your head in agreement 🙂 .

Yes Dad wrote for love enjoyment not financial reward 🙂 and that’s today’s introduction sorted. Below I’ve copied one of his Oxford Mail published article’s called ‘Facing up to the student challenge’ featuring my brother and his girlfriend, the original is of course typewriter written and yes I am rather proud of these pieces of writing, who knows perhaps he’d have been thrilled I blogged his article on the internet?

I’ll leave you with one last thought, if Dad was alive and in good health today I’m positive he would have taken to WordPress ‘like a duck to water!’

*********************************************************

Metro
My father’s ‘Austin Metro’ taken 1981 whilst on a family summer Holiday. Dad taught me to drive in this car and features in the Post below. Hmm? I wonder what ever became of HJO 443Y?

Facing up to the student challenge

Can you visualise days at Redbrick University in the1960s? All the male students wore coats and the girls were locked up in their halls of residence, not a miniskirt in sight.

(Blimey 😮 Dad was imagining miniskirts!)

An entire Term’s equipment could be transported in one large suitcase. This was heavy, admittedly on occasions fellow travellers on the 11.17am narrowly escaped with their lives when the case was swung up onto one of those silly little tennis racks they had in those days. The swinging sixties and the permissive Seventies (to say nothing of the Expensive Eighties) have changed all this.

Below are listed some of the items essential equipment parents of prospective students might invest in. Also included is some advice to parents culled from bitter experience.

  1. Don’t allow your son or daughter to secure a place too far away from home unless gaining comprehensive knowledge of the road works on the UK motorway network is your forte. Preferably choose one far enough away to prevent journeys home to borrow money or best non stick frying pan, but not so far away as to make the transport of incredibly heavy cardboard boxes a problem. Gone are the days when a text book costs 15 shillings. Books like those used by the student coast about £40 a nicend a quick glance will not rivet the layman like a Jilly Cooper.

Driven to tears?

2. On the subject of transport, invest in a van of fair size. If this is thought absurd, try getting three guitars, a trunk full of dirty washing, fourteen cardboard boxes of assorted shoes, cassette tapes (remember those?), books, files, a monster packet of Sainsburys monster biodegradable washing powder, a small microwave, a cardboard tube containing a poster of Madonna, portable TV and spare parts for a Citroen 2cv.

3. Students reappear at the end of June ready to unwind. This however is the parents hardest time. Struggling to get the cardboard boxes into the loft is only part of the problem. A trip to Israel and Egypt with the girlfriend is in prospect…………… paid for with proceeds from casual employment.

Watch the telephone bill. Calls to the Egyptian Embassy in the daytime are expensive. The trip will begin at 8am from Oxford bus station, so say fair well to at least one nights sleep.

Two days before departure, realisation dawn’s the girlfriend does not know where Egypt is, let alone that a visit there is rather different from a day out in Bournemouth. Search the loft for a school globe to show her. Full to the brim with typhoid injections and quinine tablets, she will take fright at 11pm the night before departure. ‘Prisoner Cell Block 11’ has a marvellously calming effect and the parent can relate to it by realising the inmates are having a better time than he is.

Reversed charges from Tel Aviv cost about £9, so budget for them. Arrival back after a month is also at 3am. Cook egg and chips, make gallons of tea while you listen to stories of spells spent in Israel and Egyptian hospitals suffering from gastroenteritis which seems to be the main feature of the trip.

A last piece of advice for the parent is to give up, at least temporarily, alcohol and tobacco and embrace the conversation movement with open arms. A crafty cigarette in the garage will pass unnoticed, but don’t throw away the tube from a used toilet roll last the green police pounce. Pay the Poll Tax, but don’t attempt to justify it…………. and pay the students as well.

When your son or daughter goes away for the first time, things will never be the same again. It is hard to negotiate the path between idealism and the demands of this difficult world but one day it will all be worthwhile.

R. Shepherdson & A. Shepherdson 2019 

(One final thought, just imagine living in an age of being unable to edit as you go and NO spell-check!!)

Could have. Should have. Would have.

nervous_breakdown

One of the saddest true stories I could share with this WordPress involves a girl, a 17 year old girl I used to attend secondary school with many years ago, her name is Karen (for this post) and NO this isn’t one of my tales of an adult nature.

Karen was rather short with wide hips though not overweight, and far from being a plain girl she was attractive and unremarkable and I don’t mean that in a nasty way, 95% of the population are unremarkable and average looking, I am you are, what I’m trying to say is if life had turned out differently, Karen with her blondish hair may well have worked in a Bank like her mother, married say an electrician, their destiny to birth two children own a dog and live happily ever after on some middle England housing estate.

Read More »

Crafting – A response post

Go-cart
Wouldn’t you agree ‘imagination’ is the mother of all inventions? Me aged @10yrs beside a go-cart I’d constructed from old pieces of wood, stolen buggy (stroller) wheels and my parents old kitchen lino floor for a roof! I’d even painted it racing blue and added a bike wing mirror.

Oh and the hair is but a distant memory (sigh) 😀 , back in the 1970s I was always making things from old scraps of wood so was I taught to be creative or inherited the skills through my genes?…………… Happy days! 😀 And back in the days of my youth pram wheels were childhood currency, if you had them some kid would always buy or exchange for a swap……….. I’m wondering :/ do children play like this in 2018 or am I looking at my past through rose coloured spectacles?

Anyways chatting about ‘meee’ isn’t necessarily the point to this post.

My mother is a perfectionist she can turn her hand to almost anything, as a small child I remember her sitting at the dining room table, cutting out material for dresses, shortening curtains by sewing machine and taking the hem up on my Jeans because she could never buy…………….. LOL long story!!! Most evenings leading up to Christmas she’d be baking mince pies, cooking a fruit cake, icing when cool with brilliant white sugar solution then leaving on the dining room bureau to dry. My mother used to make everything and anything before arthritis took hold of her hands (they’re not so bad which is a blessing but sewing is a hobby of the past), and only just recently she helped me assemble a bathroom cabinet holding it up while I drilled screwed and attached to the wall……….. yep a lovely family anecdote to put down in writing.

Ah where was I? Oh yes crafting a response post to a lady blogger I follow, about the age of nine and for some unknown long forgotten reason I had to make from scratch a small ‘sitting stool’ from oddments of timber. You know the scenario, this crafting project was a task to be completed earning me a badge from my Cub Scout leader, successful and mum would later sew onto my arm. The point to my tale is I guess mum could have left me to my own devices, and yes I could would have presented a half decent chair to my Cub Scout leader, earned the badge because well I was good with my hands and now I’m a time served engineer by trade.

Anyways rather than leaving me to work on my own, mum helped with the measuring cutting drilling screwing together before trusting me with a tin of brilliant white gloss paint!…………… And measuring each small piece of timber is the key to my tale, the dimensions had to be marked with a pencil then cut to a line, left to myself I’d have used rule of thumb and yes as I remember the ‘sitting stool’ EXACTLY resembled the picture on the plans……… even if I say it myself the stool looked pretty darn spectacular with its shiny paint drying under bright sunlight.

As an aside after the presentation ceremony, unbelievably one rather catty bitchy mouthed mother had the nerve to criticise mum saying,

“I don’t agree with parents doing the children’s work for them!” (Mum let it pass!)

Ffs I physically made it! Mum just instructed me how to use tools properly and to this day I still live and work by the mantra measure twice and cut once, and yes still to this day there are occasions when in a rush to get tasks done the initial first measurement turns out to be wrong…………. don’t you think that bitchy mother was out of order? I guess some parents compete against other parents through their offspring and it gets outer hand, anyways very childish behaviour but there you.

So what’s the point to my tale? We all have childhood memories experiences which only when many years later as adults ourselves do we realise shaped our lives, to this day I can close my eyes and picture us two knelt on the concrete front drive with tools and oddments of wood scattered around about us, I guess some would use the word bonding though I’m not so sure? To me our labours were more an exercise in how things should be done correctly, and yes on reflection the anecdote is a happy childhood memory which perhaps I’ll appreciate even more in years to come……… sadly.

I’m employed as an engineer so perhaps her early construction lessons rubbed off?

The amusing part to this tale is knowing my mother as a person I’d guess she was herself competed against other parents, however note she was very careful NOT to make the ‘sitting stool’ for me (btw I’ve asked mum and she cannot remember what happened to it), yes a competitive parent but cheating to win an award wasn’t and isn’t her style!

So my message to the blogger I’m responding to, don’t worry about the mess, the child is crafting and baking but life skills are being learnt, I’d guess treasured memories are being locked away for future reference and at least the child isn’t staring at a screen zombie like watching TV.

A. Shepherdson 2018

Is your most prized possession IN FACT worthless?

I hope you’ve read my previous blog, linked here, lol if you haven’t not to worry it’s a very personal family tale written about an ancestor of mine who goes by the name of Matthew, to me a truly fascinating character. I’d love to have met him because I have a feeling we both have similar character traits, how do I know? Well I take after my father, he after his father and so on, we all have so much in common…………… everyone says I’m my father’s son and more so than I’d like to admit……. put it this way when growing up we had a difficult relationship as eldest sons often do!

My thoughts behind this evening’s post are both what value we place on possessions and I’ve decided to put memories of my family into electronic print (WordPress). I know I don’t have children but I have ‘little people’ for relations and who knows one day they maybe interested? Whether my memories are interesting to other readers is a totally different matter but I know several bloggers have been interested in the past, we’ll see 🙂 …………… and certainly different to the tale about a Romanian masseuse sticking her lubricated finger up my asshole and tickling my prostate gland, she wasn’t a doctor mind you, she was ‘milking me’ with her other hand! You haven’t heard my prostate massage tale?

Well lol you never will because it got deleted! 

Anyways not to worry tonight I’ll leave you with a question, what value do you put on your personal possessions? I’d guess the majority of you could do without possibly all your material possessions but I’d guess there will be several that mean the world to you, monetarily worthless however for very personal reasons they are priceless and irreplaceable.

I have two.

My home is overflowing with ‘clutter and stuff’ I’d guess your own is very similar, cupboards are crammed full of papers books, shelves groan under the weight of items I’ll never use again, but honestly speaking I have only two personal possessions that I value above all else. I’d be heartbroken if I ever lost them, you just don’t know how upset I’d be if they were mislaid forever.

And what two items am I referring to?

Misc 003

The gentleman standing in the doorway of his village butcher’s shop, is my Great Grandfather and according to everyone I’ve heard talk about him they all say he was lovely man. He was a Church elder, he gave meat to poor women in the village, one hundred flag bearers of the Royal British Legion stood at his graveside on the day of his funeral, and a fine upstanding gentleman who served his Country on the Western Front during World War One. He didn’t fight in the trenches but he was stationed very near Ypres though he was only a private and butchered meat to feed army soldiers. 🙂 An important job all the same.

Btw he never sold or ate offal, and a butcher’s opinion is good enough for me! 

He wasn’t Catholic by faith, making the decision Church of England was his personal path toward the Kingdom of God, however Catholicism is linked to my treasured possession, oh yes those two personal possessions my mind does tend to meander. My Great Grandfather wasn’t Catholic however for some unknown reason throughout 1917 and 1918 whilst stationed on the Western Front, he kept those Rosary Beads on the left of the photo with him throughout his time in France. We know he purchased them or was given them by someone in Bethune village because when you hold the Rosary up to the light, look through that tiny eye glass in the middle, you can actually see is different photographs of Bethune’s village Church!

Those Rosary Beads in the photo are the first possession I’d be heartbroken if I ever lost it, that he kept them with him throughout his tour of duty must have been for a very good reason? They obviously meant a lot to him perhaps an antidote to all the horrors going on about him, and although I’m very much a non believer (I truly wish I did believe in God btw) you could offer me any sum of money for my/his Rosary and I wouldn’t exchange.

I should add out of all his many Great Grandchildren for some reason my Grandma handed her father’s Rosary Beads to me for safe keeping and I know not why? Perhaps there’s a reason I’m not aware of but she considered them safest in my possession and another reason why they’re so valuable. Lol all my other Cousins were given monetarily valuable stamp albums and the like, and I have the Beads and Medal. 

Perhaps she somehow knew I’d be the one who coveted them above all else?

Medal 007.JPG
An extra photo for you, My Great Grandfather’s WW1 Medal after serving on the Western Front

DSCF6665

The second item one or two of you may have already guessed, I have another Great Grandfather who was awarded the Queen’s South Africa medal for his Military service in the Second Boer War 1899-1902. It’s quite heavy, struck in solid silver and yes they sell for a considerable amount of money on eBay, but again appreciating the QSA medal was earned for Matthew’s military service and handed down to me means the world, it would never ever be sold however much I was offered. Link here for tales of my Great Grandfather Matthew.

©A. Shepherdson 2018

Registered car guards, I’m rather taken aback!

Below are photos of my Grandfather’s delivery vans, he owned his own Bakery! I’ll leave you to guess if I’m a Weale’ or a ‘Bateman’ or ‘another’ Lol.

Weale and Bateman1942

1929 Cinderford
My Grandfather, he’s been dead many years but I still think about him everyday of my life! I miss him terribly!

I Follow a lady blogger who writes all the way from deepest darkest Africa, and don’t you think it amazing that you can open your tablet Reader and then be whisked away into the thoughts of bloggers from around the world.

Well paraphrasing a little, this lady pointed out something that I’d never come across before, registered car guards! I guess this service is a sign of modern times, having said that when I daily listen to Jeremy Vine on BBC’s Radio 2 or read when I pickup my daily copy of the Metro free newspaper, I’ll be reminded of the previous days crime stories. AND without coming across as seeming rather smug at her shocking insights, I sometimes wonder if Britain is heading on a similar path?

:/ Time will tell I guess.

Did you know London has a bigger murder rate bigger than in New York USA!! The choice of weapon isn’t guns in our case, it’s knives and I’m not underplaying the fact when I say knife crime in the UK is now out of control since the policy of stop and search was abandoned!

And ‘shock of shocks’, you’ll sense a touch of sarcasm here, now that our Police cannot stop and search young men if they suspect them of carrying a knife, young men now carry knives with them!!! Jeeze I saw this coming (with age comes wisdom) and wouldn’t you know it, the public are now demanding the Police have the power to stop and search people who in their professional opinion could be carrying a knife?

Unbelievable you couldn’t make this shit up and in the meantime innocent law abiding citizens have been knifed to death, it’s so tragic.

Well returning to my African blogger’s post and I’ll quote an extract, ‘they have an abundance of registered car-guards who do an excellent job of protecting our cars from being stolen while we shop and go about our business errands.’ Well I learnt something new today and yes quite shocking BUT how long before we in the UK go into Town to shop visit the Post Office or whatever and pay to have someone watch their car so as it’s not broken into?

Without sounding flippant I guess hers is a service that’s creating employment opportunities, having your car watched does seem a great idea for peace of mind, and it won’t be long until big British cities follow suit. Anyways, then I got to remembering an anecdote my Grandfather would often tell me when I was a child, a true tale from the days of owning vans used in his Bakery business. Grandpa ‘Bob’ would proudly tell me back that when living back in the 1940’s, he’d purchased a new van and it would be delivered with the absence of car door locks!

Yes I know unbelievable incredible isn’t it, and I guess all these years since he last told me this anecdote, the vision of him driving into Town, leaving his delivery van unlocked whilst he delivered bread, is well inconceivable in present day crime ridden England.

So sad!

Dolly and Kitchener
My Great Aunt Alice and her brother ‘Kitch’ delivering eggs to London, back then could you leave a horse and cart unattended safe in the fact ‘it’ wouldn’t get stolen?

A. Shepherdson 2018