So glad you decided to stick your stories up here, mate. I always seem to come back to your work (either your YouTube, or your Substack), when I’m bedridden with nothing but an alcoholic mad woman, a few gradually shrinking bottles of methadone, and possibly some MST to keep me company.
Stories like these always bring back vague memories of an 80s childhood. Friendly neighbours, street parties, and that feeling that all that lay ahead was endless possibilities.
Cheers, Oswald. Doesn't sound like an ideal situation you're in - but is it ever? Glad to be able to offer something of worth.
They were great days, and not just because we were young. but because people were closer and technology hadn't done what it does best, separate us. Thanks for reading.
Could be worse, mate. Life’s all about peaks and troughs I suppose. Right now I’m in a bit of a trough, but hopefully I can get myself cleaned up a bit over the next few weeks.
Good luck with it - it's only about making different choices and sticking with them. And if you can't - ask why. I don't mean to sound glib, but that's the only way I've ever made changes.
Really enjoyable read. Shame Candy missed out on your slither of a penix. Or did you get her a few years later?
I remember you talking about the friendship cake. Didn't have a fucking clue what you were talking about. It never reached the mean streets of Luton, fortunately by the sounds of it.
When we spoke on the stream I mentioned that I've never read novels, just factual stuff. It's just occurred to me that novels can be factual stuff too.
Looking forward to 'I'm Spasticus' lol & your, ahem.. novel. Will tap...the novel of course.
I left a comment on the Mads stream & he left a fairly long detailed reply. Have you seen it? Top fella so he is
Nice one, Al - and yes, it's hard to think of where the inspiration - and content - for a novel comes from apart from life. Different levels of disguise or encryption, but we only have what we've lived at hand to write a novel. Never tapped Candy, but there was Janine, which is another story altogether. Give some novels a go - they were life changing for me, and I got into the pretty late in life to be fair, having been intentionally put off them by state education. Best wishes and thanks for reading.
My mum's standard hunger-complaint defence was "bread and jam" or "biscuits and cheese" (Jacob's Cream Crackers and Red Leicester). When she remarried up into the lower-middle class and shopped for food at M&S, we used to rib her about this if she ever felt "peckish" and we'd drily recommended "bread and jam/biscuits and cheese" ...
Hello Philip, thanks for giving it a read. It's weird when you're that age and hungry, but you're already building up judgements and preferences, but mum's aren't interested, if you're hungry, make something out of the shockingly bland assortment of what's available or nothing. I've never liked bread and jam. Toast and jam, yes.
Haha loved this. Never heard of a friendship cake. With friends like those who needs enemies.
Salt sandwich? That’s news to me - but I remember making salad ryvita sandwiches that were pretty grim.
I think we all had our mums friends that we had a crush on. My mums friend wore leather trousers and was a secret crush. She invited us to a bbq and I remember meeting her new boyfriend and drowning my sorrows on wine and collapsing in the rose bush.
Haha, yes, there were a couple of real childless and young stunners amongst a lot of tired and older housewives, they stood out so bad it was very awkward to see the drunk husbands of others doing their best to flirt/not flirt. The internet will tell you those damn cakes are still doing the rounds. It would appear you've had a bit of a binge read. A good sign, I think. And of course, really appreciated.
Yuk to both of them, especially in sandwiches, but your other comment - great stuff. Most of the men in the street worked trades, and did a lot of commercial work and were given freebies throughout the job, an example I remember with delight was a bakery my dad used to do a lot of work for, and every day when he left work they'd give him all the pastries that didn't sell that day - choux chocolate eclairs, the lot. At around 21:00 most night, men would be carrying boxes from their vans into their houses, and most of it got distributed around the street. I'm not sure it was all 'given freely', mind, judging by the speed the vans were emptied and the contents distributed. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment, Bradley.
I was wondering the other night if it was possible for you to get academic work in Cambodia? Your qualifications are British so would likely go further. Though I suppose wrong think in academia over here doesn't lead to death... yet.
My mum's always hated mayo. So she's always made egg mayo sandwiches with salad cream! I'm going to send you a batch! *Evil laugh!
I honestly can't stand the stuff. I thought I already left a reply, but my aunt married a Spanish restaurateur, and they taught me how to make Aioli Aioli, which is egg yolk, garlic, and olive oil, added drop by drop. Room temp and mortar and pestle (which is how you make it) can make or break it, but you should be able to turn it upside down without the pestle (or mortar?) falling out. It's lovely with just a baguette to dip in it. No salad cream will pass these lips.
Those were the days when neighbours actually went around each other’s houses and shared a cup of sugar and some eggs and milk or even some dodgy cake mix, that doesn’t happen anymore. Great reminiscence story from the past Chris as always a eloquently put together story sir.
Thanks for reading it, EpexEx. Yes, I'm told many stories about my street on my YouTube channel, the doors open all summer, me being carried up ladders and thrown through windows when someone had forgotten their key. There were also big families living in small houses - two up, two down - and yet still happy with the very little they had in material terms because they family, community, and trust in droves. My mum still lives there, and barely knows anyone else. I could still tell you everyone who lived in every house. And yes, the two or three families who always wanted to borrow a mug of sugar (neither the mug or the sugar ever came back, to the point where my mum would start wrapping the sugar in newspaper, like a huge cocaine bindle) or some milk. My dad drew the line at tools though. People always wanted to borrow his tools because they were well loved and looked after. But without them we'd be borrowing sugar, so it was a no-no. Thanks for leaving a comment, it's intriguing what different people get from the same story.
Thanks for your reply Chris yes I’ve got happy memories growing up in the 80’s on a council estate in southern England. All the families knew each other sometimes in far to much detail with those paper thin party walls in the cancel terrace houses! Back in those days us kids played out from dusk till dawn in a long hot summers, not returning till dinner was ready with the alarm call of our mother shouting out across the field. Happy days Indeed. Have a great time off from all your shenanigans, take care of yourself and your loved one see you on the return. Really looking forward to the new start. EpecEx
You wouldn't put it past them. At least the upper classes know they're degenerate, the middle classes need to disguise their creepy sexual repressions with things like health and the like.
Don't recall the 'Friendship cake' maybe a southern thing. We never did Vesta curries either. My Dad was in India and Ceylon in the war and said the smell of curry would never permeate our home. When the Asians started moving in it drove him to insanity. Good read Danger. The youthful lustings definately ticked the memory bank. My Uncle Geoffs wife ( not a real uncle just a friend ) Maureen wore the shortest of skirts and stockings to boot ...ooh er
Thanks for reading and leaving a comment, Martin. Keeps the algorithm working in my favour and I'm interested in your response. I remember Vista curries, the rice on the cover in an appetizing circle around the edge of the plate with *serving suggestion underneath to prevent some rice-based litigation issues later. Although Candy was good stuff, Janine, wife of Phil, was the one. But that's literally another story, so you'll have to wait. Thanks, again.
Years ago someone gave me Amish Friendship Bread starter as part of a Secret Santa gift. I thought it was a lovely gift, but I stupidly mentioned to one of my co-workers that it was an old-fashioned gift. The following week I found out that the co-worker I was speaking to was my Secret Santa and I felt terrible.
"Now, if there was a (1) nice fresh baguette,(2) some Pastrami, (3) some Gouda cheese, maybe some (4) ripe, blood-red tomatoes, (5) crisp iceberg-lettuce, and (6) mayonnaise" YEAH WE GET IT MATE. Observe the LAW OF 3 not the law of 6 you verbose Kent plank. Even Tony Blair knew this. "Education. Education. Education." You over work EVERYTHING. This is you: "Education. Education. Education. Education. Education. Education."
Very entertaining read. I still eat bread and butter sandwiches even now (no margarine, stopped using that filth years ago) and i’m with you on salad cream, Total abomination!
A baguette, or a freshly made loaf is wonderful with just real butter. Salad cream is the Devil's Spunk. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment, it's much appreciated.
Love this story Chris. Another great read keep them coming. I think i have a few to catch up they keep going in my junk folder 🤣 Hope your enjoying your break
Thank you for reading Sarah, and I'm glad you love it, that means a lot. I am enjoying my break, but I am just writing another short for Substack so I can schedule it and have my digital-detox without my subs missing a story. And that's a good point too about the junk folder, I might have to mention that to make people aware that could be happening.
That took me on a trip down memory lane - not with Friendship cake but I remember the Ginger Beer version and thinking Golden Syrup sandwiches were a 'treat'
The 80's were a cruel time for food experimentation. I remember eating Duck A l'Orange at a family wedding. Everyone was so excited about it and thought it was really posh. I hated it. Now I know why - it was made with orange juice and gravy granules haha.
Another brilliant story told with classic Dangerfield hilarity. Just when you think it can’t get any funnier…..it always does
Thanks for reading Gayle. Trying to keep the reader interested with a story about a cake is quite a challenge, but as with most stories, it's the stories that surround the object that give you a reason to keep reading. I remember going to a 'posh' restaurant for my brother's 18th birthday, it was really awkward because we stuck out so much in our poor people's 'trying to look posh' clothes, accents, behaviour etc., it was also blatantly out of our price range and money was a constant stress in our house, so I knew dad was trying to do something special. But I didn't recognise anything on the menu so opted for duck, and they had Duck a l'orange which I didn't fancy, and the waiter said you have to have a sauce, so I said 'tomato' - as in ketchup. The whole evening made me feel different, in a bad way, and got the feeling that was the take-away for the whole family. Thanks for reading, and thanks for leaving a great review: "The 80's were a cruel time for food experimentation." lol, yes they were.
Lovely piece, I do reflect sometimes why it is the working class (like you and me) who are much more likely to support nationalism. We see the reality of the situation, we have had our communities ripped to shreds directly via immigration like nobody else - literally, anyone on a council estate in any major city has witnessed this first hand. Thinking back to my childhood living on a council estate in the early 90s it was still majority English and had some sense of community, parties for the England games and royal events - but in a direct link as immigration increased (notably 1997 onwards via tony blair) - community died down - strangely even between English people. You'd have to pinch yourself to see how much the place has changed in under 20 years, crime, division, and general unhappiness all up.
I saw your birthplace in the news Dartford just this week a stabbing near the station - looks like from new arrivals. You must've not seen your mum in a long time now? surely you plan to come back and visit her - could have a meetup with all your supporters also in Soho ha (another place that has become increasingly lawless via immigration - drug dealers all around Soho square) and these are the "best" bits of London. Anyway enough misery for now - keep up the good work - maybe 1 day the novel will be out for me to buy ;0 Cheers!
I have passport and visa issues I will sort out after my break and intend to visit mum, and we've already agreed to an IRL meet-up, so that will be a good day out. And yes, I lived in Soho for about ten years and watched it get more and more dangerous and less and less charismatic.
That was it exactly. I think my mum would have ditched it immediately (with her knowledge of the ginger ale version) if me and my brother weren't clearly so excited about a cake every week, unheard of in our house. But after three weeks it was like, 'Yuk, not this horrible yeasty thing again'.
So glad you decided to stick your stories up here, mate. I always seem to come back to your work (either your YouTube, or your Substack), when I’m bedridden with nothing but an alcoholic mad woman, a few gradually shrinking bottles of methadone, and possibly some MST to keep me company.
Stories like these always bring back vague memories of an 80s childhood. Friendly neighbours, street parties, and that feeling that all that lay ahead was endless possibilities.
Cheers, Oswald. Doesn't sound like an ideal situation you're in - but is it ever? Glad to be able to offer something of worth.
They were great days, and not just because we were young. but because people were closer and technology hadn't done what it does best, separate us. Thanks for reading.
Could be worse, mate. Life’s all about peaks and troughs I suppose. Right now I’m in a bit of a trough, but hopefully I can get myself cleaned up a bit over the next few weeks.
Good luck with it - it's only about making different choices and sticking with them. And if you can't - ask why. I don't mean to sound glib, but that's the only way I've ever made changes.
Really enjoyable read. Shame Candy missed out on your slither of a penix. Or did you get her a few years later?
I remember you talking about the friendship cake. Didn't have a fucking clue what you were talking about. It never reached the mean streets of Luton, fortunately by the sounds of it.
When we spoke on the stream I mentioned that I've never read novels, just factual stuff. It's just occurred to me that novels can be factual stuff too.
Looking forward to 'I'm Spasticus' lol & your, ahem.. novel. Will tap...the novel of course.
I left a comment on the Mads stream & he left a fairly long detailed reply. Have you seen it? Top fella so he is
Nice one, Al - and yes, it's hard to think of where the inspiration - and content - for a novel comes from apart from life. Different levels of disguise or encryption, but we only have what we've lived at hand to write a novel. Never tapped Candy, but there was Janine, which is another story altogether. Give some novels a go - they were life changing for me, and I got into the pretty late in life to be fair, having been intentionally put off them by state education. Best wishes and thanks for reading.
My mum's standard hunger-complaint defence was "bread and jam" or "biscuits and cheese" (Jacob's Cream Crackers and Red Leicester). When she remarried up into the lower-middle class and shopped for food at M&S, we used to rib her about this if she ever felt "peckish" and we'd drily recommended "bread and jam/biscuits and cheese" ...
Hello Philip, thanks for giving it a read. It's weird when you're that age and hungry, but you're already building up judgements and preferences, but mum's aren't interested, if you're hungry, make something out of the shockingly bland assortment of what's available or nothing. I've never liked bread and jam. Toast and jam, yes.
Haha loved this. Never heard of a friendship cake. With friends like those who needs enemies.
Salt sandwich? That’s news to me - but I remember making salad ryvita sandwiches that were pretty grim.
I think we all had our mums friends that we had a crush on. My mums friend wore leather trousers and was a secret crush. She invited us to a bbq and I remember meeting her new boyfriend and drowning my sorrows on wine and collapsing in the rose bush.
Thanks Chris
Haha, yes, there were a couple of real childless and young stunners amongst a lot of tired and older housewives, they stood out so bad it was very awkward to see the drunk husbands of others doing their best to flirt/not flirt. The internet will tell you those damn cakes are still doing the rounds. It would appear you've had a bit of a binge read. A good sign, I think. And of course, really appreciated.
I like salad cream and golden syrup. Golden syrup is the bollocks on porridge.
Our neighbours were always in the habit of selling things off the back of a lorry to each other. It was the East End, after all.
Yuk to both of them, especially in sandwiches, but your other comment - great stuff. Most of the men in the street worked trades, and did a lot of commercial work and were given freebies throughout the job, an example I remember with delight was a bakery my dad used to do a lot of work for, and every day when he left work they'd give him all the pastries that didn't sell that day - choux chocolate eclairs, the lot. At around 21:00 most night, men would be carrying boxes from their vans into their houses, and most of it got distributed around the street. I'm not sure it was all 'given freely', mind, judging by the speed the vans were emptied and the contents distributed. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment, Bradley.
I was wondering the other night if it was possible for you to get academic work in Cambodia? Your qualifications are British so would likely go further. Though I suppose wrong think in academia over here doesn't lead to death... yet.
My mum's always hated mayo. So she's always made egg mayo sandwiches with salad cream! I'm going to send you a batch! *Evil laugh!
I honestly can't stand the stuff. I thought I already left a reply, but my aunt married a Spanish restaurateur, and they taught me how to make Aioli Aioli, which is egg yolk, garlic, and olive oil, added drop by drop. Room temp and mortar and pestle (which is how you make it) can make or break it, but you should be able to turn it upside down without the pestle (or mortar?) falling out. It's lovely with just a baguette to dip in it. No salad cream will pass these lips.
Those were the days when neighbours actually went around each other’s houses and shared a cup of sugar and some eggs and milk or even some dodgy cake mix, that doesn’t happen anymore. Great reminiscence story from the past Chris as always a eloquently put together story sir.
Thanks for reading it, EpexEx. Yes, I'm told many stories about my street on my YouTube channel, the doors open all summer, me being carried up ladders and thrown through windows when someone had forgotten their key. There were also big families living in small houses - two up, two down - and yet still happy with the very little they had in material terms because they family, community, and trust in droves. My mum still lives there, and barely knows anyone else. I could still tell you everyone who lived in every house. And yes, the two or three families who always wanted to borrow a mug of sugar (neither the mug or the sugar ever came back, to the point where my mum would start wrapping the sugar in newspaper, like a huge cocaine bindle) or some milk. My dad drew the line at tools though. People always wanted to borrow his tools because they were well loved and looked after. But without them we'd be borrowing sugar, so it was a no-no. Thanks for leaving a comment, it's intriguing what different people get from the same story.
Thanks for your reply Chris yes I’ve got happy memories growing up in the 80’s on a council estate in southern England. All the families knew each other sometimes in far to much detail with those paper thin party walls in the cancel terrace houses! Back in those days us kids played out from dusk till dawn in a long hot summers, not returning till dinner was ready with the alarm call of our mother shouting out across the field. Happy days Indeed. Have a great time off from all your shenanigans, take care of yourself and your loved one see you on the return. Really looking forward to the new start. EpecEx
I hear the middle classes do Kombucha, friendship enemas these days.
You wouldn't put it past them. At least the upper classes know they're degenerate, the middle classes need to disguise their creepy sexual repressions with things like health and the like.
Don't recall the 'Friendship cake' maybe a southern thing. We never did Vesta curries either. My Dad was in India and Ceylon in the war and said the smell of curry would never permeate our home. When the Asians started moving in it drove him to insanity. Good read Danger. The youthful lustings definately ticked the memory bank. My Uncle Geoffs wife ( not a real uncle just a friend ) Maureen wore the shortest of skirts and stockings to boot ...ooh er
Thanks for reading and leaving a comment, Martin. Keeps the algorithm working in my favour and I'm interested in your response. I remember Vista curries, the rice on the cover in an appetizing circle around the edge of the plate with *serving suggestion underneath to prevent some rice-based litigation issues later. Although Candy was good stuff, Janine, wife of Phil, was the one. But that's literally another story, so you'll have to wait. Thanks, again.
Years ago someone gave me Amish Friendship Bread starter as part of a Secret Santa gift. I thought it was a lovely gift, but I stupidly mentioned to one of my co-workers that it was an old-fashioned gift. The following week I found out that the co-worker I was speaking to was my Secret Santa and I felt terrible.
Haha - oh dear. I don't really know what to say. I hope you managed to destroy the thing before it consumed your existence.
"Now, if there was a (1) nice fresh baguette,(2) some Pastrami, (3) some Gouda cheese, maybe some (4) ripe, blood-red tomatoes, (5) crisp iceberg-lettuce, and (6) mayonnaise" YEAH WE GET IT MATE. Observe the LAW OF 3 not the law of 6 you verbose Kent plank. Even Tony Blair knew this. "Education. Education. Education." You over work EVERYTHING. This is you: "Education. Education. Education. Education. Education. Education."
Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.
Brilliant :-)
Nice one, Grim - thanks for reading and leaving a comment, much appreciated.
Very entertaining read. I still eat bread and butter sandwiches even now (no margarine, stopped using that filth years ago) and i’m with you on salad cream, Total abomination!
A baguette, or a freshly made loaf is wonderful with just real butter. Salad cream is the Devil's Spunk. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment, it's much appreciated.
Love this story Chris. Another great read keep them coming. I think i have a few to catch up they keep going in my junk folder 🤣 Hope your enjoying your break
Thank you for reading Sarah, and I'm glad you love it, that means a lot. I am enjoying my break, but I am just writing another short for Substack so I can schedule it and have my digital-detox without my subs missing a story. And that's a good point too about the junk folder, I might have to mention that to make people aware that could be happening.
That took me on a trip down memory lane - not with Friendship cake but I remember the Ginger Beer version and thinking Golden Syrup sandwiches were a 'treat'
The 80's were a cruel time for food experimentation. I remember eating Duck A l'Orange at a family wedding. Everyone was so excited about it and thought it was really posh. I hated it. Now I know why - it was made with orange juice and gravy granules haha.
Another brilliant story told with classic Dangerfield hilarity. Just when you think it can’t get any funnier…..it always does
Thanks for reading Gayle. Trying to keep the reader interested with a story about a cake is quite a challenge, but as with most stories, it's the stories that surround the object that give you a reason to keep reading. I remember going to a 'posh' restaurant for my brother's 18th birthday, it was really awkward because we stuck out so much in our poor people's 'trying to look posh' clothes, accents, behaviour etc., it was also blatantly out of our price range and money was a constant stress in our house, so I knew dad was trying to do something special. But I didn't recognise anything on the menu so opted for duck, and they had Duck a l'orange which I didn't fancy, and the waiter said you have to have a sauce, so I said 'tomato' - as in ketchup. The whole evening made me feel different, in a bad way, and got the feeling that was the take-away for the whole family. Thanks for reading, and thanks for leaving a great review: "The 80's were a cruel time for food experimentation." lol, yes they were.
Lovely piece, I do reflect sometimes why it is the working class (like you and me) who are much more likely to support nationalism. We see the reality of the situation, we have had our communities ripped to shreds directly via immigration like nobody else - literally, anyone on a council estate in any major city has witnessed this first hand. Thinking back to my childhood living on a council estate in the early 90s it was still majority English and had some sense of community, parties for the England games and royal events - but in a direct link as immigration increased (notably 1997 onwards via tony blair) - community died down - strangely even between English people. You'd have to pinch yourself to see how much the place has changed in under 20 years, crime, division, and general unhappiness all up.
I saw your birthplace in the news Dartford just this week a stabbing near the station - looks like from new arrivals. You must've not seen your mum in a long time now? surely you plan to come back and visit her - could have a meetup with all your supporters also in Soho ha (another place that has become increasingly lawless via immigration - drug dealers all around Soho square) and these are the "best" bits of London. Anyway enough misery for now - keep up the good work - maybe 1 day the novel will be out for me to buy ;0 Cheers!
I have passport and visa issues I will sort out after my break and intend to visit mum, and we've already agreed to an IRL meet-up, so that will be a good day out. And yes, I lived in Soho for about ten years and watched it get more and more dangerous and less and less charismatic.
Sounds a lovely idea that in reality turns out to be more like a car washing round. 😉
That was it exactly. I think my mum would have ditched it immediately (with her knowledge of the ginger ale version) if me and my brother weren't clearly so excited about a cake every week, unheard of in our house. But after three weeks it was like, 'Yuk, not this horrible yeasty thing again'.