I’m Going to Kill You!

Growing up in the North of England, I think I was about nine years old when a girl of about the same age whom I had never previously met approached me in her parent’s living room and said quite out of the blue in a loud voice,  “I am going to kill you”. I am not making this up. Neither as it turned out was she! Obviously she was unsuccessful. She had been ‘poking’ the coal fire in the living room we were sitting in using a hand held metal ‘poker’ typically used in those long ago days to help…

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White Water Rafting

Some years ago I had a very compelling early summer afternoon adventure white water rafting on a fast flowing river about sixty kilometers from Vancouver BC where I live. I went with a group of friends none of us having had any previous white water rafting experience. No problem! We had engaged a guide complete with a very substantial inflatable raft and he assured us he would teach us the ropes so to speak. I should add that we were all strong swimmers. Non swimmers and weak swimmers should not under any circumstances be white water river rafting even with…

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Howling. THE Call Of The Wild.

Well populated since the mid 19th century, Vancouver British Columbia Canada, a major west coast city which is where my wife and I live, hardly qualifies as copious Canadian wildlife territory. Or does it? Some time ago on a hiking trip in the mountains about a hundred kilometers inland from Vancouver, camping in wilderness terrain, after dark I heard what I guessed might be coyotes and/or wolves howling. Quite literally the ‘call of the wild’. An accompanying colleague who knows these things better than I assured me the sound was that of coyotes not wolves. Not that being attacked by…

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Where are the Hens?

I was recently and rather aimlessly standing on the sidewalk outside the front gate to our house in the East End of Vancouver British Columbia, of course Canada, debating with myself what just might be something useful to do beyond the twiddling of my left thumb. I am ‘Cack-handed’ i.e. left handed as are incidentally, most kangaroos. Just saying. By chance a guy came up to me and asked where could he find the hens? This just before I was planning to walk a couple of blocks to visit what I had recently discovered and had thought, based on its…

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Education Jobs and Bosses. A Sentimental Memoir.

As opposed to an autobiography which is of course an account of one’s entire life, by definition a memoir is a nonfiction narrative in which the author shares their memories from a specific time period or reflects upon a string of themed occurrences throughout their life. This short story hence is a memoir as are the majority of my short stories posted to this blog albeit they are by no means all inherently sentimental! NB: AUTHOR’S WARNING! One paragraph below headed ANIMAL CRUELTY. LICENCED TO KILL! contains and describes in considerable detail a true debatably barely legal animal cruelty scenario.…

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Highway Policing At Its Best

A few months ago and for only the second time in my life, I was pulled over by a police officer whilst driving on a freeway. I was driving at a speed well under the posted limit. My first thought was that the said constable must be plastered. OK that was not my first thought. To be perfectly honest I did not have a clue as to why he had pulled me over. I was not speeding, I was not driving dangerously in any way shape or form and I was not doing drugs and/or alcohol not that he could…

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I got his number, I got his number!

Living in London UK from 1963 until 1966, along with using the London Underground subway system aka the Tube * wherever and whenever I could, when the subway was not the most viable solution to my immediate travel needs, having elsewhere previously owned motorcycles, I figured that would be a better means of transport than a car given about eight million other people at the time ** were also trying to figure out how to get around London by car and even more challenging, then park it. Especially the latter! Motorcycles and their more benign cousins scooters, are of course…

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At 100 MPH plus riding Pillion on a friend’s motorcycle

Routinely riding a motorcycle when I was in my teens, after a ‘near miss’ accident I decided to switch to cars. I didn’t get very far when the old jalopy I had bought more or less gave up the ghost. In fact I had to pay a not inconsiderable sum to have it towed to the wreckers. My chemistry laboratory job at the time was twenty miles from where I then lived in Northallerton, a small town in a rural area of North Yorkshire England. One of my co-workers lived in the same town and offered me a ride on…

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When is a crime not a crime?

Years ago when I was relatively young as well as reasonably and appropriately stupid, I became involved in what could arguably be called a criminal act. I did say arguably. I was simply doing a favour for some friends per se. Of course that’s what they all say. However that would never have stood up in court. A group of five or six of my friends had parked their car in a downtown parkade. I had taken a cab to join them. We were all headed to a pub. What else is new when one is male, young and care…

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A very close call. I might not have been writing this.

The first inkling I sensed one windy spring morning many years ago that I was in imminent danger of injuring myself, or worse my pillion passenger as well, was the sound of my motorcycle’s front wheel as it just clipped a particularly high curb my having started a right turn away from it just a fraction too late. This occurring in the UK and hence on the left hand side of the road. I had initiated the turn barely a few seconds too late. We were traveling at the speed limit of 30 mph just exiting Barrow-in-Furness where we both…

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