for sale

This appears to be some kind of exercise where we were asked to imagine we were estate agents offering a house for sale. Not sure if we were supposed to provide exhaustive detail or just make the place sound attractive but I’ve clearly tried to do both. It’s not entirely based on my own home at the time - we lived on a terrace and definitely didn’t have five floors and seven bedrooms - but I do recognise a few details, both from my own house (we had a cork wall in the kitchen and a red carpet in the attic) and the fantasy house I wished I lived in (I really, really, really wanted my own snooker table). I’m not sure I would have bought this house. I don’t need seven bedrooms for a start, the fireplace would be superfluous in this day and age (amazing to think we actually burned coal as our main source of heat back then) and I don’t trust the price. How much is it, exactly? £18,000? £10,000? £12,000? This boy can’t quite make up his mind. Yes, yes, I know, a seven- bedroom house for £18,000 is the most amazing bargain. But nutty neighbours? No chance. As for the jokes: the address going as far as Solar System and Universe is probably something a lot of kids have done at some point. I’m only sad it didn’t end in a postcode, but at some point I’m sure I’ll correct that. And then there’s the bit about the Irish fire. I don’t even know what an Irish fire is, so someone must have told me about them quite recently at the time. Turning it into a racist slur against the Irish is more a sad indictment of the times I lived in and what was deemed to be acceptable, rather than a reflection on poor little eight year old me. Having said that, as Irish jokes go, it’s not even a good one. I’m not even sure it makes sense. I probably thought an Irish fire squirted water on itself to put the fire out every time you lit it or something stupid like that. In which case I should have said so, instead of being so coy about my bigotry. Oh and while we’re here talking about houses, I can’t think of a better place to show you this picture of me taking a shower, age 8, in the new shower cubicle we’d just installed in the bathroom there. This wasn’t the first time I’d had a shower - that would have been my first day at school when we went to Sherburn swimming baths - but it was the first shower I’d had at home. I remember being a kid, marvelling at how, when my Mum was little, she didn’t have an inside toilet. Now I marvel at me not having had a shower till I was eight years old. How is that even possible?

< Ceremonies

TERM 2 The birth of the 1980s - Blake’s 7, Blondie and battles in space

Wednesday March 19th, 1980

Apeth Badly-spelt high-jinks with a purple gorilla from outer space!

For Sale

School Rules >

Ceremonies For Sale School Rules Football The Micronauts: The Return of Supersilver Apeth (frum Ota Sbees) Exploring the Underworld When I Was Happiest Plant Description The Money Shop: Part 1 The Money Shop: Part 2 Moses and the Pharaoh Ideas for Sports The Money Shop: Part 3 Watch: Cocoa The Horrible Black Friday Waen Shepherd’s Run I Do Not Like… My Wellington Boots I Am John McEnroe Police Horses My Name is Alice Captain Kremmen: The Cat Soldiers Andrew’s Body Area Star Wars: Revenge of the Jedi Summer Scaredy Cat Goes to the Dentist’s Judge Dredd: The Shape Changers Apeth Returns The Phantom Strikes Again Grate Rubbing Starkiller Captain Shepherd The Origin of Tomato Man Copy Writing & Exercises

Me in the shower, 1980. Note the dark orange walls, using leftover paint from my bedroom, and the trendy late 70s line design picture

POLICE - PLEASE NOTE This is a picture of me, the author, back in 1980 when I was eight years old, and not some random naked child. I assure you I have his full approval for uploading it to the internet and, since he’s fifty now, he’s more than capable of giving his consent.

Optical Illusion Time Amazing visual tricks that will boggle your mind!