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You know you are getting old when:

GHT

I'll Lock Up
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New Forest
Hence one of its other meanings, a disorder that causes a person to eat random objects, in the manner of a magpie. Before it became a disorder, it was the basis for a few really good vaudeville acts.
Now that has prompted a childhood reminisce. There was a magician who ate 'diamonds' from a tray following each magic trick. His finale was to pull the diamonds from his mouth, all illuminated like Christmas lights. I tried to find something like it on YouTube, (poor old YouTube didn't have a clue!)
 

GHT

I'll Lock Up
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9,552
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New Forest
Why, so you can smell of sweat AND perfume? No, thank you.
sweaty.jpg

Next time that you find yourself in London...................
 
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10,761
Location
My mother's basement
An acquaintance (hard to call her a friend) declawed her cats. This was a couple decades back. I looked into the practice and determined that it was, at best, all for the convenience of the humans in the house and, at worst, downright cruel.

Our last cat (RIP) left lasting evidence of her having been here. An interior door (a builder-grade 1970s-vintage hollow-core door) was her preferred scratching post. I’ve since painted over the damage but it’s still visible if you go looking for it. I call it “character.” And my bought-secondhand vinyl IKEA couch is kinda marked up, too. Oh well.

I like my furniture, but it’s just furniture. (Another reason to prefer used stuff: I won’t be the first to damage it.) A cat is a sentient being.

Our current cat is a now 16-year-old (give or take) boy for whom we assumed responsibility when his prior keeper (since deceased) moved into a “care facility” three-plus years ago. Among this cat’s virtues is that he doesn’t leave claw marks and never fails to use the cat box. But we have yet to break him of the “play fighting” habit encouraged by his previous keeper, whose hands and lower arms were perpetually scratched up. The cat might take a swipe at a person walking by. He sets to awakening the rest of the household at first light. He purrs, he head-butts, he licks with his scratchy tongue. If that doesn’t work, he might bite. He’s a genuine PITA sometimes, but we love him. I can’t say I love the vet bills that come with having a 16-year-old cat, though.
 
Last edited:

GHT

I'll Lock Up
Messages
9,552
Location
New Forest
You are definitely old if you can remember getting out of the car to open and close the garage door.
Always having loose change in case you needed to make a phone call.
When cigarettes were advertised on cinema & television and you could buy candy cigarettes for the kids.
You remember the oil crisis and fuel queues. Come on, own up, who remembers shopping at The Army & Navy Surplus Stores?
And the ultimate reminisce............who remembers streakers?
streaker..jpg
 
Messages
10,761
Location
My mother's basement
You are definitely old if you can remember getting out of the car to open and close the garage door.
Always having loose change in case you needed to make a phone call.
When cigarettes were advertised on cinema & television and you could buy candy cigarettes for the kids.
You remember the oil crisis and fuel queues. Come on, own up, who remembers shopping at The Army & Navy Surplus Stores?
And the ultimate reminisce............who remembers streakers?
View attachment 625604
All of the above.
 
Messages
12,672
Location
Germany
But one thing I always found interesting since I was a kid.

At which age it starts, that people have to cough multiple times after laughing??
 

LizzieMaine

Bartender
Messages
33,350
Location
Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
An acquaintance (hard to call her a friend) declawed her cats. This was a couple decades back. I looked into the practice and determined that it was, at best, all for the convenience of the humans in the house and, at worst, downright cruel.

Our last cat (RIP) left lasting evidence of her having been here. An interior door (a builder-grade 1970s-vintage hollow-core door) was her preferred scratching post. I’ve since painted over the damage but it’s still visible if you go looking for it. I call it “character.” And my bought-secondhand vinyl IKEA couch is kinda marked up, too. Oh well.

I like my furniture, but it’s just furniture. (Another reason to prefer used stuff: I won’t be the first to damage it.) A cat is a sentient being.

Our current cat is a now 16-year-old (give or take) boy for whom we assumed responsibility when his prior keeper (since deceased) moved into a “care facility” three-plus years ago. Among this cat’s virtues is that he doesn’t leave claw marks and never fails to use the cat box. But we have yet to break him of the “play fighting” habit encouraged by his previous keeper, whose hands and lower arms were perpetually scratched up. The cat might take a swipe at a person walking by. He sets to awakening the rest of the household at first light. He purrs, he head-butts, he licks with his scratchy tongue. If that doesn’t work, he might bite. He’s a genuine PITA sometimes, but we love him. I can’t say I love the vet bills that come with having a 16-year-old cat, though.
There is nothing I own, nothing I have ever owned, and nothing that I ever will own, that would induce me ever to do that to a cat. I don't believe in hell, but if I did, I would wish that the inventor and promoters of that practice would be clawed to shreds forever.
 

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