Cyprus-Forum.com

[Maynard23]

I posted two new topics and had them both deleted within 10 minutes, I wonder if this qualifies for any kind of recognition, particularly since I was slightly under the influence when I posted them.

God only knows what I might be capable of stone cold sober !!.

[RichardB]

Congratulations young man

[Maynard23]

Congratulations young man

Thanks mate, it's nice to be appreciated as I've had such a terrible childhood !!

[Maynard23]

Congratulations young man

Just HAD to post it again, never had a medal before, thank you SO much !!.

[RichardB]

Congratulations young man

Thanks mate, it's nice to be appreciated as I've had such a terrible childhood !!

I realise how hard it must have been for you especially as you are so considerably richer than the rest of us. However did you manage with all the hangers on ...I do feel for you it must have been terrible

[Maynard23]

Ah but mine is a most heartbreaking story my friend, a tale of woe that would soften the heart of a virago.
It is only when [on the odd occasion every night] that I am able to contemplate my sorrows whilst under the influence of that cursed demon DRINK!!.
If you would care to sit up for an hour or so, I will relate to you the circumstances which have led me to this sorry state, Lord only knows how I have suffered at the hands of buxom barmaids and jealous bouncers.

[SSBubbles]

Ah but mine is a most heartbreaking story my friend, a tale of woe that would soften the heart of a virago.
It is only when [on the odd occasion every night] that I am able to contemplate my sorrows whilst under the influence of that cursed demon DRINK!!.
If you would care to sit up for an hour or so, I will relate to you the circumstances which have led me to this sorry state, Lord only knows how I have suffered at the hands of buxom barmaids and jealous bouncers.

Listening..........................

[Maynard23]

[Maynard23]

As a result of reading through some of the posts submitted by various members and out of a sense of conviction that there is a place in this world for everyone, I would like to write you a story of one small life and it's struggles for survival..................MINE.

I was left abandoned on the doorstep of a couple in the east end of London some time in October of 1958, a letter was left in the cardboard box which contained me explaining the reason for my abandonment and more particularly the reason for THIS couples selection.

They were renowned in the area for their kindness and consideration [I was later informed] and thus were carefully selected by my distressed mother who could not bear to place me in care, a wise choice indeed since my new [soon to become] parents were apparently smitten by the sad contents of my unfortunate mother's missive.

Lord knows what legal entanglements my new parents were obliged to unravel in order to secure the rights of adoption, I never really had the opportunity to probe such issues since naturally I was unaware of them until much later in life.

I spent six years happily enjoying the everyday joys a child with loving parents generally experiences until the fateful day when it all ended abruptly, the house we lived in was razed by fire and my parents both died as a result of it, had I not been at school, perhaps the same fate would have befallen me.

I was placed in care and despite the efforts of those who had my best interests at heart I am sure, I would neither speak nor join in any activity with any of my peers, it was assumed that I was some kind of simpleton [for the expertise necessary to deal with such cases was not available in those days] and for two years I maintained absolute silence thus earning the nickname of "Dummy".

It was decided that I should be sent to a special establishment which was located in Yorkshire, there to be schooled in accordance with my abilities to communicate.
My morose attitude was particularly annoying to the frumpish matriarch who controlled the staff and I became a target for their own inabilities to understand my condition which resulted in my being subjected to daily punishments, it became some kind of game with them to see which one, with the application of the stick, could inflict sufficient pain on me to encourage some sounds of distress.

I was aware of their objectives and proudly state that they did not succeed in their evil intent, I remained absolutely silent and have laid curses upon each and every one of my tormentors, I know they will suffer, for such is the lot of those who afflict suffering on others.

For almost four years, I was captive in that establishment [now no longer in existence] until the Christmas period in 1970 when for the first time my [Cell] room door was carelessly left unlocked and I absconded.

I climbed through the small dormer window which was situated in the upper floor passageway and gained access to the snow covered roof, I managed to clamber along the ridge of the roof and jump down onto the flat area of the extension building, from there I was able to climb down a drainpipe and made good my escape by scaling the perimeter wall.

I was aware that my footprints would reveal the direction of my escape route and headed for the road which led to the south, gained the centre of it where vehicular traffic had churned the snow to slush and changed direction heading further north.

It was easy to avoid being seen since it was dark and I merely skipped off road whenever a headlight appeared in the distance.
It was approaching dawn when I came across a small farm in the Howarth area of Yorkshire, fearful of being discovered [there may be dogs] I decided to sleep it out in the open, I found a sheet of corrugated iron, leaned it against a stone perimeter wall and crawled under it.
I remained there throughout the entire day and made my next move at dusk.

There was a barn, fairly remote from the farmer's house and I furtively approached it, I could see the warm glow of the farmhouse lights and caught the sounds of merriment on this bleak Christmas Eve [I suppose] I gained access to the barn and scrabbled around for food, I found some cattle food and there was a bucket of water [probably rainwater] which I drank in order to wash down the awful hardness of the cattle food [no idea as to what it was].
Fearing discovery, I applied myself to the task of affording myself some concealment within the barn, I placed some old planking against the interior end wall of the barn and practised darting in and out of concealment in the darkness of my hideaway.
I remained in the barn for three days during which time I took note of all movements at the farm, it must have been the day after Boxing day [or thereabouts] that the farmer approached the barn, I duly hid behind the planking and through the chink between them watched the farmer heave a sack of something over his shoulder, he turned and withdrew from the barn.

I watched him through a small opening on the other end of the barn and saw that took the sack into another building close by, it was a stable, closer to the farmhouse than the barn and I was soon treated to the sight of two fine Shire Horses being led out of the stable and into the field.

That night, I stealthily approached the stable and immediately felt the warmth of it, the body heat of the horses in the confined space was sufficient to obviate the necessity of rubbing my hands together in order to generate some comfort to my numbed fingers.
The horses and I enjoyed a sumptuous meal of oats and water and for the first time in days I felt as though I had eaten substantially.
I set about making myself comfortable for the night and came up with a wonderful idea, overlaying some straw with an od horse blanket, I shovelld freshh horse dung on top of it and crawled beneath the banket, I will tell you, I have since slept in some top class hotels in many parts of the world, THAT nights sleep was a memorable one, I slept like a log.

Early the next day I awoke to the sound of raised voices coming from the direction of the farmhouse, I carefully peered through the central gap in the stable door and saw that a horse-drawn caravan was outside the farmhouse picket fence, the farmer was gesticulating and the man before him was shouting, I recognised the accent of the stranger to be that of an Irishman and immediately formulated my next movement.

I watched the caravan as it passed through the farm gates and noted the direction it took on gaining access to the road, I hurriedly took leave of my two gentle companions and ran along the inside of the perimeter wall in a croached position until I had outstripped the progress of the caravan, leaped over the wall and approached it.

I will NEVER forget the face of that man who sat up on the driving board, he had steel blue eyes that shone as bright as Sirius and the complexion of a man well used to the rigours of the outdoors, he halted his progress held his hand down to me and assisted me as I clambered beside him, he clicked his teeth and set the caravan in motion then, turning to me said, "You have some trouble son?"
A curtain which covered the entrance to the creel structure which was the caravan swung open and a wonderful lady peered out.
So moved was I by the feeling these two strangers were able to pass to me without one word being spoken between us, I cried like a drain, for the first time in years I was able to utter sounds, I always could speak, there was no need for me not to, I just didn't want to.

These two people, this man, this woman, these two angels who had suffered the stigma of being insulted almost daily because their station in life was considered below expected standards, "Tinkers", achieved in five minutes what the "Experts" had not in as many years.
We travelled as a family, I as their son "Ernie" [because as Donal O'Hara said] "You have earned your freedom lad !".
We made our way to the ferry and I began my new life in Ireland, land of the poets, musicians [and I refer to music which emenates from the soul and tumbles through the swaying grass of that magical land] where the people are born with courage determination and a genius which represents but a small part of their lust for life, it was among these folk that I reached the age of eighteen years, may God bless them all.
God Bless the memory of Donal O'Hara and his angelic wife Hannah [yes, they are both departed] I was unable to embrace the faith that THEY had, for my life had not truly begun up until the time I had the good fortune to meet them, if there is a God and he does truly look down upon us all, those who cruelly treated me will surely suffer, my "Tinker" saviours will be rewarded and surely one day, whether or not I am a believer, we will ALL meet in the hereafter.

I am unable to continue, overcome by emotions I am unable to control, I must end now, more later perhaps. Ernie.

[Oracle]

I can't wait .....

Please post more and I'll rush back from my chores as scullery maid to Lord Fauntleroy .....