Thread 8 - TalkLair: “Brewing Russell's teapot”

[Kucinghitam]

Continuation of previous threads (thread 7).

The new lair of JTT escapees is all cosy and homey; we have truly settled here. Outside, the garden is blooming with spring flowers. Inside, the hearth is glowing, pictures are up on the walls, rugs are down on the floors (and assorted pets curled up on them).

We just won’t mention the gnawed bones of our prey over there in the corner of the cave…

I only started leaving T alone at home when she was about 13 or 14 because before that she would just have been way too anxious. But she's been perfectly capable of taking a bus/tube somewhere since the age of about 10. I don't get what the panic about public transport is.

If the woman lives in a town (as opposed to Cork or Limerick, both cities) in SW Ireland there probably is no public transport so she regards it as strange and scary.

I don't get what the panic about public transport is.

Somebody on that thread commented on the OP's repeated phrasing of "navigating public transport" something like "It's not like they're having to guide a schooner around the Cape of Good Hope" which made me titter.

Having said that, I can imagine many people who've basically driven/been driven everywhere their entire lives, and therefore can't even begin to fathom how to board a bus or buy a train ticket.

I'm definitely a lax parent by the OP's standards, having left DDs for various lengths of time since they were (maybe) 9/10, and them walking to/from school since Year 6. And yes, they are perfectly able to navigate the buses in our city.

This morning, weissbier, flavoured with crushed Coriander seeds and tangerine peel. Should be ready for my son's visit at the end of the month.

I happily got public transport to visit my son in NJ - bus to Boston, walk from bus to train station next door, Amtrak to Newark Penn (NYC), change to NJ transport train line that gets me less than ten minutes from his house. If I fly Portland ME to Newark NJ he has to do a hundred mile round trip drive to pick me up, usually with the kids in the car, and that feels like a big ask. They asked my d-i-l's dad to do the same and he wouldn't because "too complicated " and "takes too long". My ddil said to me admiringly "I guess you Brits are used to public transport".

That thread made me realise there was quite a significant gap between the age at which I was left alone at home for signficant periods of time (10 or 11) and the age at which me wandering around outside (foot or bike) on my own was perfectly fine (7 for properly alone, about 5 if with a group of other children and some were slightly - but not much older).

The younger end of the outside range was within a street or 2 of the house, but certainly by 7 I was going to the shops a mile or ao away with 1 friend the same age, and at 9 I'd head off for half a day wandering round the countryside completely by myself.

We went to the Boat Show at Olympia when I was 8, and I was waved off alone with an agreed a time to meet by the big pond in the middle. By the time I rejoined my parents I'd explored loads of boats, bought a gadget for slicing cucumber into fancy spirals, and got a CPR certificate from the Navy.

But people say, ah yes, but you can't do that these days.

My daughter certainly says that to me.

When we were 11 or 12 my best friend and I used to “canter” for miles through the Hertfordshire countryside on our imaginary ponies. I was never much of a runner, but cantering was a different matter. We’d find somewhere with horses, knock on the door and ask if we could “help” look after them - most people were surprised into agreeing, so we’d play with their horses all day and then, exhausted and hungry, we’d hitchhike home in time for tea.

Can’t tell you how horrified my Dad was when I told him about it decades later. He’d always assumed I was at Rowena’s house all day.

I walked or got the bus too and from school from about 6 or 7. I remember my friend (who changed schools when we were 8) getting a cut that left a tiny scar on her nose from falling as we jumped off the open platform of the bus while it was still moving. We also walked to each others houses to play which involved crossing a couple of main roads.

I also used to play with neighbour friends including the open space at the top of our road (fairly small but definitely not tidy or cared for like a park).

Here there are sometimes kids riding bikes along the street or, when we get lucky with the weather, having snowball fights but mostly they’re taken out in cars.

We were allowed a lot more freedom but there is so much more traffic now and most people have the option of driving their kids places now.

We tended to have a slightly chaotic mixture of childcare arrangements when I was young. My grandmother did a lot of the live-in home/childcare, but she would try to assist whichever of her 8 adult children was most in need at the time, so she'd move between households basically according to who had the youngest kids.

I remember in primary school, perhaps aged 7 or 8, coming home on the school bus to an empty house and letting myself in with my own key. My mum was a teacher at another school and her duties plus commute home, meant she'd always be getting home after me. At that time, we would get our evening meals delivered by a tiffin service (there would be perhaps 3 types of cooked thing plus some steamed rice) and it was part of my "coming home" job to bring the tiffin carrier inside. It wasn't a long wait for mum to get home, maybe an hour at most, but nevertheless I was expected to just deal with it.

Even when there were adults at home, the children were basically just left to our own devices once we were past toddlerhood, because household tasks were so labour-intensive. We'd just bimble around doing our own things and roam the neighbourhood with other local kids.

I would walk the mile or so to primary school from about 6, I think. Sometimes with neighbour kids but often by myself. It seemed ok. But I was with the girl from next door, who must have been 8 to my 6, when a man accosted us under a railway bridge we used to go through on the way home. We ran and he didn't chase us.

We thought not much of it, really; no frame of reference for a strange man waggling his knob at us shouting "do you want to see my cock?". When we mentioned casually to G's mom that evening round hers, the shit hit the fan. Police men - and I think one women - round doing interviews, and on one depressing morning a tour round the local paedo's houses in the back of a big police limo, while they were made to come outside so we could see them. One was a greengrocer and shook his fist at us as we drove off. Of course, I had no clue whatsoever what the fuss was. I just thought it was a bloke showing off a huge knob.

Interesting too that, because there was some sort of hostel for foreign workers or refugees or something on the route home, G's parents were inistent that it was a foreigner, and discounted my testimony that he spoke English clearly in a Brummie accent. Actually more depressing than interesting - it's what you'd get now, I'm sure.

@duc748 your creative beering looks and sounds terrific. Fond memories of parsnip stout (not hinting!). It's so crap that so-called science only allow us to send sight and sound, a mere 2 of our senses - over tinternet.

@angelico53 I'm not so sure that smell-o-vision would be quite the boon you envisage, but you are very welcome to swing by, and I'd be happy to meet up for a beer again.

I hadn't got far enough into the thread to read that she's from somewhere in southern Ireland. That makes it even more mental. I had an odd mix of freedom and restrictions growing up in London but that's because we lived in a rough area. No playing out with other children but lots of Red Rover bus passes at the weekend and going to museums, taking my little brother. Ireland on the other hand! From a very, very young age, we were out from nearly dawn til dusk only running home for lunch. Summer holidays in Ireland were so free. Yes, there was generally someone home but that's because it was the 1970s in Ireland so mammys generally weren't out working, although my Aunt Mary did work but she was a teacher so come the summer she was home. But if she or any of the other aunties and mammys were out it didn't matter. We'd let ourselves in and get what we wanted and go out again. No keys because everyone left their key in the front door so you could let yourself in whenever you needed to.

Now, obviously, that was in a small town in Ireland in the 1970s and I'm sure it's different in a bigger town and I'm sure that it's got a bit more restricted there now just as it has in the UK, but I'm thinking the other mammys in her town think she's a bit of a weirdo.

It's just struck me that my last visit to that small town was 25 years ago but even in the 90s it was still possible to get home drunk from the pub, knock on the chippy's door because it was closed and buy some bits that you just needed to heat up at home. When we were younger you'd knock on the grocery shop door if it was closed and you needed some bread or milk. We were so lucky to grow up when we did.

Careful now, Mouse, you're straying into Hovis territory! 😁

You get very few garden birds on new estates, at least for a good many years. So I'm especially delighted to see a fledgling goldfinch on my roses today, helpfully ceating the aphids, I suppose. Fuzzy little darling he was and, like the bird on Blood on the Tracks, singing a song for me at his own expense.

I love flying baby fuzzballs.

I caught a swallow yesterday - it flew into the house, then got panicked and hid in a corner of a window. It was amazing to hold this tiny, almost weightless little warm thing, and to think that in a couple of months it's going to fly to southern Africa. And then come back again.

Simply can't get me head round that, elders.

That's a very floofy little goldfinch!

I went out the other day, Après le Déluge, to find a fluffy young magpie dealing with the snails on the lawn. Word seems to have gone around the local magpie population that I am no threat, as he barely glanced at me while I hung out the laundry.

What is it and this thread, regarding fledgling goldfinches?

I love goldfinches. I used to get them in my garden all the time in my last home until suddenly, about four years ago, they just stopped coming. I mostly get sparrows here which is fine as I really love them and the evening singing is second to none.

We get goldfinches on next door's bird feeder (haven't got ours up yet). The birds I love to see are cardinals - such a startling colour. In my old house I once had a bluebird - hardly ever see those. A couple of weeeks ago, driving along the interstate, I saw an American eagle in the median, dismantling some small creature. Never seen one of those in the garden though!

We get lots of great tits in the garden plus the inevitable robin if any digging is gone. There are also regular visits from blackbirds. I did see a goldfinch last year though and a jay. There are also occasional visits from woodpeckers. There are almost always pigeons and magpies around and loads of parakeets especially on summer evenings. They’re seriously chatty.

I have great tits too!

Getting the Merlin app was the best thing ever - https://merlin.allaboutbirds.org/ can't recommend it highly enough - it means that as well as the birds I can see (fuzzball bullfinch baby the other day; half a dozen thrushes working their way across the lawn eating snails last week), I now know what the invisible singers are - blackcaps, goldcrest, long-tailed tits. And of course, loudset of all, wrens.