What I really miss is the simplicity of everything. Knowledge can be such a burden sometimes. I liked doing things freely without having to consider consequences. I also miss my wake up-play all day-go to sleep for 10+hours routine. Now, its work work work. I have not been my usual read-alot, enjoy-life self. Back in the day enjoy myself was all I did! I can't even finish this post properly because I have to rush back off into a whirlwind of things-to-dos. Now I know why my parents told me 'Life wouldn't always be like this' when I was six. Oh boy, do I know.

Try this site, Sue and all , nice photos

http://www.aquarterof.co.uk/

Oooooh, all those lovely sugarfree ones! Someone once sent me a packet sugarfree Jelly Beans, sheer heaven.

We had a long series of workmen in the 60s who were often around for 20 years, nearly all with incredible senses of humour. In those days no one used first names, they were all Mr, and one by one nearly all died, often before they retired. I even remember one from my grandparents no one else remembers from when I was about 5, Mr MacDonald (complete with genuine Scottish accent)the decorator. I told him I wiped my nose on my tie and he said he wiped his on his trouser leg. Very memorable for a 5 year old.
Then there was Mr Mack the comedy boilerman, ten minutes on the boiler and half an hour telling stories, Mr Bateman the carpenter, also very funny, Mr Bennett the builder, Mr Derham the plumber, Mr White the mechanic in Ladbroke Grove, Mr Gross who put in all our shelves and cupboards made by hand, Mr Conduit (amazing name) who did the floor tiles, Mr Downs who did the car radios, Mr Wilkins who fixed my motorbike, two Mr Reillys who did our decorating for the whole time we lived in the house until they also died, plus one who we did name Alan Smith, a huge ex male model who did tree surgery and broke our kitchen chair as soon as he sat on it.
And how could I forget (I did, but remembered) Mr Cunningham, the electrician. A bit of wiring and a full stand up routine to follow.

Now I have Jim and John, the qualified all rounders who never come and George who can do anything with a piece of wood as long as you go and get it and tell him exactly what you want him to do with it. It was literally like looking at one of the old black and white films like the Ealing comedies in comparison to now, it was a totally different era.

That reminds me of the miners, Satguru. I never knew any of them, but my dad remembers them from his childhood. Around the turn of the century, up into the depression era here in the US, my family's property had a coal mine on it. The family farm was actually a registered city in the state of Wyoming, and in addition to the rambling farm house and related out buildings, there were also three little apartment buildings, a general store, a saloon, a barbershop and a post office, all for the bachelor coal miners who basically lived with my ancestors on the property. After the mine closed, a number of the old-timers who had no other "family" besides mine, were allowed to stay and live in the apartments. When my dad was little, a few still lived there, and my grandma always told the kids to stay away from them. (Gruff old bachelors...) But I don't think the kids really listened.

What I remember, though, is the buildings. When I was young, they were probably 80 years old, and had been built with "temporary" in mind, so they weren't stable, and we weren't supposed to go in them. But I know I did a few times. Some of the old miners' belongings were still there, and my family didn't know what to do with them, since the miners were long dead, and the whole reason they had stayed there was the lack of close kin. Kind of sad, actually. About 12 years ago, my family let the local fire department use the buildings as practice, and they were burned down and the debris removed. Up till that time, the family property was actually listed as a Wyoming ghost town. They were destroyed about the time I graduated from high school, and I sort of feel like a physical part of my childhood was destroyed along with them, but they were certainly not safe, and my grandma put up a little park where they had stood. The old makes way for the new, as always, but it is always bittersweet.

What a pity. In one of Bill Bryson's books he mentions that often old historic buildings are pulled down and new nasty boxes are put in their place. Such a shame, I love to look at older buildings.

Me too, Sue, and here in my city at the moment there's a lot of that going on. We have some beautiful old sections of town with 80-120 yr old houses. There's a concerted effort by the city and state to get people to move into these areas and refurbish the old homes, even to the extent of offering special very low interest rates on home loans (I benefited from that myself) and grants from the government for restoration. But a lot of the buildings, which tend to reside on larger lots than are typical for newer homes, are being torn down and duplexes or fourplexes built in their places, leaving little or no yards and sort of splotches on the faces of the old neighborhoods. It's really sort of sad. It happened right across the street from me, actually, sort of. Big old house on a double-sized lot... The whole thing was for sale, and the realtor bought it himself after many months on the market, then built a new house in the empty side yard and sold the other house as a separate property. So there's this sort of ugly new house in the middle of the lovely old neighborhood, and I have to look at it every day. :/

This is so strange as so many people from America visit countries like England to see 'quaint' and old buildings.

Do you mean that if a person owns some land they can build whatever they wish? What about planning laws?

There's quite a bit of effort in my neck of the woods to build new houses that are esthetically compatible with the neighborhood. If the houses are primarily Victorian for example, the new housing would have some of the embellisments and decorative aspects as the old ones, and probably be of a relatively similar shape and size. If nothing else, it would at least not clash. It might not be a Victorian, but at least it doesn't look like a hideous monstrosity next to one.

As far as planning laws, those things do vary quite a bit, and no, one can't build whatever they wish. They have to apply for permits, have them approved by authorites and depending on where you are, approved by the neighborhood/community/or those directly affcted (for instance someone whose view may be obstructed).
I'm not sure if just being ugly would qualify for disapproval, though. (Well, actually, in some communities it would because there are very strict "neighborhood associations" that wield a lot of power.)

Here, there is just starting to be some attention paid to planning of neighourhoods. Until very recently, you could build just about whatever you wanted on your own land, as long as it was up to safety standards, and the use you wanted to put it to conformed to zoning regs - that is, it would have to be a single family dwelling in a single family dwelling neighbourhood, not an apartment, say, or a factory.
In the last maybe ten years, there has been some talk about keeping the house size, number of storeys, etc, in some sort of line with the original neighbourhood, but it mostly comes to nothing - if you can afford a monster house, mostly you will be allowed to build one. I think that most people here would be offended at the idea that you couldn't do what you wanted on your own property- those developments where you can't put up a clothesline or can only paint your front door certain colours are regarded as ridiculous, something no true westerner would put up with. And it is in fact mostly people from the East living in them - we Albertans are in general an ornery lot.

If we're talking about older neighborhoods where the infrastructure (sewers, roads, sidewalks, etc) is all already in place, then yes, you can pretty much build whatever you want on the land you own. The government can only determine what you can build within the limits of whether it is the right type of structure (as in, no stores in a residential, etc.) for the lot, and then it has to be certain distances from the street and other houses, etc., and probably there's a limit on number of stories, but that's mostly a safety feature because of high winds. If you wanted to build a new house in a new neighborhood, you'd have to deal with the neighborhood association, which is mostly comprised of the developer, and there are really strict and weird rules you have to agree to when you sign the contract for your lot, like a friend of mine just built a house and one of the rules was no sheds, so she had to build a raised gazebo with storage beneath. Certain materials for the fences, certain materials for the facades, only certain types of trees and flowers... and the developers that sell you the lots are usually also the builders and they make you choose from a set number of basic houses, so it's like giant creepy cookie-cutter neighborhoods.

On a totally different tangent, Sue you have to remember how much younger we are than you; something which becomes more exaggerated the further west you go, since it's a part of the country that was settled later.
I remember, years ago, being in Calgary (Alberta) and having a local advise me that I should visit Heritage Park where all the older homes had been relocated. He told me, quite importantly, that there were even houses there that had been bult around the turn of the century. He was quite shocked to find that houses that old were not all that uncommon in Ontario, and that I'd actually lived in one that had been divided into apartments.
In my part of the country, the older houses that are preserved in parks are about 150 - 250 years old which is nothing compared to how old some of the buildings in Europe are.

That's true - my house was built in 1914 and is one of the oldest houses in town, by quite a long shot. The first building was built in our town in 1910 - the rail station. We were a stop for the trains to take on water and fuel.

What I find strange is that houses get re-located and not just left where they were built. My trip to Atlanta was marred by the lack of traditional houses, I was so looking forward to seeing typically southern houses and I just saw one or two.

Are you sure the houses in Atlanta were moved?
My understanding is that a lot of them fell into a state of disrepair because of the post-civil war poverty. I have also read that because of the heat and humidity in the south, a lot of the wood construction didn't last.
I guess if a lot of them collapsed, then the move to preserve those that are left makes sense.
If anyone knows otherwise, please feel free to correct me!

Oh and by the way - on days like today, the thing that I miss the most from childhood is the lack of responsibilities...sigh!

Confusion here, you said homes were relocated in Calgary and I just mentioned that I only saw a few old homes in Atlanta - two topics really.

You could be right. It makes sense that at least some of them were moved.

And your post reminded me of the times friends and I used to ourselves go exploring up stormwater pipes Copago. Our favorite trick was to go a kilometre or so up a tunnel then wait till someone was walking past the grate in the gutter and scare them.
I certainly was a naughty lad Skunkee but there are a few stories from my childhood that I wouldn`t post here (pinching the milk money was tame compared to some of the mischief I used to get up to as was re-arranging the neighbours footware left on the porch so everyone had everyone elses shoes). I also recall "The Cicada Tree. This particular tree was a favorite nesting spot for cicadas year after years, I used to climb the tree and catch a couple of the noisy insects then rush them home to be placed carefully in the freezer. A couple of hours later I would try to re-animate them, sadly none recovered from the experience.

Marshmallow Fish
Hide and go seek
Playing with friends in the street
Walking to the shop to buy bread and spending the change on sweets
Not having a care in the world
Being poor and not knowing it
Buying ice cream from the ice cream van

My but times have changed and sadly for the worst!

For Lady1- do you remember these from Jeremy Taylor's song from 1962 (I think it was about Johannesburg, he called it the northern suburbs):

Popcorn chewing gum, peanuts and bubblegum
Ice cream candyfloss and eskimo pie
Ag daddy how we miss bullseyes and liquorice
Pepsi Cola ginger beer and Canada Dry

which is the chorus from Ag Pleez Deddy about all the things they remembered from childhood. Richard Digance did a whole song about it some time ago called 'Do you remember' as well.

Do you remember He's older than me but I remember most of them as well.

Yes Satguru I do remember that song. It was popular when I was a kid but I was too young to realize that it was about Jhb. I see you changed it to "bullseyes"... Can't use the original word anymore it would not be politically correct.
Bullseyes were black round balls that changed colours as you sucked on them. Of course you took them out of your mouth every 10 seconds to see what color they were. Lol

Part two. I was actually lucky enough to be working in a music shop a few years after I heard it to have Jeremy Taylor himself walk in and I told him how much I enjoyed the song. I would have used the original word but someone we know who goes there regularly told me he has since changed it so people can still sing it without offending anyone. I wouldn't have taken a liberty of changing the words myself and just had to bite the bullet, but he saved me the trouble.
It turned out he was a friend of my grandpa (it was his shop) and I've been in touch with him again recently and swapped a music book for some of his CDs. If he's in London he hopes to see me again, I hope he remembers! By the way, despite being a South African cultural icon his webpage says he was born in England. That probably explains the perfect English accent in many of his songs. He lived here and worked for the BBC in the 70s after being kicked out for his politics but was allowed back later on. It'll always be one of my favourite songs though, and when I sung it on local radio after finding the words a few people called up who hadn't heard it for ages.

Parcel arrived today Sue - a very happy Toblerone fan here

(as a side note, it's very hot here today, 40*, and the postie saw that there was chocolate in it and put it in the fridge!)

What a very kind Postman!
Enjoy it Jill!

I've just remembered those ice cream wafers, you know the ones? the ice-cream seller or shop owner usually made them up on demand. He would dig out a block of vanilla or raspberry-ripple ice cream then carefully measure off a chunk and lay it on one of those wafers, tidy up the edges and put a second wafer on top. The fun was licking around the edges until your tongue couldn't reach ice cream any more, then crunching into the wafers and hoping the melty-bits of ice cream didn't drip out all over the place.

Occasionally we would be lucky enough to tumble upon a store where the ice cream was traditionally homemade - a treat indeed!

Sunday afternoon spins were always interesting. Us kids would sit hopefully in the back of the car on the way home hoping against hope that Dad would stop either for an ice cream or, if we were really lucky, for a bag of chips (fries) at the chip shop. It really didn't take much to please us then.