It's hard to bear

[Drewster]

Tell us your story Drewster

KOF - I refer the Honourable Gentleman to my earlier answer...

ie "normal sarcastic and heartless bollox"

PS Thanks for asking!

[EternalOptimist]

Tell us your story Drewster

[Drewster]

right or wrong ?
Well, I dont think you should be too hard and judgmental on an eight year old lad. They quite often have daft ideas about how the world works, I think the dog was a good guard dog and the only doubt was whether it would have bitten off my left @rse cheek or the right one.
Did he hold a gudge ? He went on to become a para, I went on to become a corporal in the army and a 400 m runner. I was on leave and bumped into him one day, we would have been 24 ish. We went for a five miler together and he was impressed that I could beat him. He recalled the incident with the dog and laughed that I had beaten him that day as well, he seemed to forget that I had advised him not to bolt.

I don't really belive in "right or wrong" being an absolute in our everyday choices....
I have a firm belief about what I consider "right or wrong" in the abstract but am "mature" (not sure if thats the right word) enough to understand that individual circumstances, experiences and perspectives will alter that view and "my" view will also change over time.

In your example:
If Harry had been your brother.... would that have affected your decision...
Older brother???
Younger Brother??
Younger Sister??
In a wheelchair??

Would the "reality" have changed? ie the 'king huge dog about to tear you limb from limb probably distracted your mind from "I can't let Harry down" to "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIT!" and you probably would have legged it no matter who you were with!

Your mind still has (I would suggest) a lingering thought that "You let Harry down"...... You have a nagging doubt about if you were a coward (I use that strong word very deliberately)........

As you alluded "I dont think you should be too hard and judgmental on an eight year old lad".... about to be dismembered by a rabid beast....

Sounds like Harry has forgiven you (if indeed there was ever anything to forgive) maybe you should forgive yourself......

NB Disclaimer: sometimes within all the prattling nonsense of this board (and many others) something "strikes a chord" and causes us to think. I honestly felt a connection to EO and a sense of guilt about a trivial incident many years in the past...... I (possibly mistakenly) empathised with this feeling because it brought to mind a similar experience in my youth.....

I unreservedly apologise for this "touchy feely" lapse in my online persona and herby pledge that I will revert to my normal sarcastic and heartless bollox for the rest of the day.

[EternalOptimist]

EO
With hindsight and (obviously) many passing years experience in the "university of life" - How do you consider your actions now and has it affected your view of yourself as a man?

You could pay particular attention to the following points:
What would have happened better if you had "stood your ground"? Would Harry still have run? Would he still have been bitten (or would the dog have ripped your arse out)? Would Harry have respected you more? Would he have stood beside you? Would the "theory" have worked (and the dog just gone away)? Did Harry bear a grudge? Has this affected choices you have made later in life? For the better? Has this affected your interpretation of the paradox "What is right?" or will you just go for a beer at lunchtime?

right or wrong ?
Well, I dont think you should be too hard and judgmental on an eight year old lad. They quite often have daft ideas about how the world works, I think the dog was a good guard dog and the only doubt was whether it would have bitten off my left @rse cheek or the right one.
Did he hold a gudge ? He went on to become a para, I went on to become a corporal in the army and a 400 m runner. I was on leave and bumped into him one day, we would have been 24 ish. We went for a five miler together and he was impressed that I could beat him. He recalled the incident with the dog and laughed that I had beaten him that day as well, he seemed to forget that I had advised him not to bolt.

P.S. Kenny, the little target was back in the brickie the day that me and Harry went scrumping. A large paving slab fell on his foot and took the end inch off his welly. Plus three of his toes.

[Drewster]

EO
With hindsight and (obviously) many passing years experience in the "university of life" - How do you consider your actions now and has it affected your view of yourself as a man?

You could pay particular attention to the following points:
What would have happened better if you had "stood your ground"? Would Harry still have run? Would he still have been bitten (or would the dog have ripped your arse out)? Would Harry have respected you more? Would he have stood beside you? Would the "theory" have worked (and the dog just gone away)? Did Harry bear a grudge? Has this affected choices you have made later in life? For the better? Has this affected your interpretation of the paradox "What is right?" or will you just go for a beer at lunchtime?

[BrilloPad]

Personally I love EO's Friday stories.

Keep up the good work EO : I look forward to the next one.....

[SallyAnne]

10? Slow reader innit?

I had to look up some of the bigger words, and I couldn't find the dictionary

[d000hg]

10? Slow reader innit?

[SallyAnne]

Well that's 10 minutes of my life I'm not getting back

[EternalOptimist]

When I was a kid, about 8, life was rough and tough, but we didn't know it. When I look back at some of the things we did, it's a bit frightening.
We used to have 'raids' with the kids from neighbouring streets. A raid was a missile bombardment, 25 - 30 feral kids aged 5 - 12 would throw bricks , bottles, anything they could get their hands on, at another gang, over a range of about 40 yards or so. The object was to get a hit, to maim or kill as many of the other gang as you could, every now and then someone would get hurt badly, usually by a head wound.
A couple of hundred yards from our street was a brickworks, and one of the items they made was cobbled paving slabs. These cobbles were perfect for throwing from young hands, round smooth and heavy, even a glancing blow was a knockout. The brickworks also had a commanding hill of gravel and a protective wall. Whoever got control of the works would win the raid, sending the defeated gang scuttling away carring their wounded. We were closest so it was usually us that won the raids.
One summer, another gang decided they had had enough of being pelted with cobbles, so they decided to come up with a new tactic. Their leader , Pongo, brought along a secret weapon, that he had nicked from his dads WWII Burma collection. He was called Pongo because, well, he stunk a bit. So there we were, pelting them with cobbles (aka chucky eggs) from the hill when Pongo ran at us. This was unusual because there had never been any hand to hand combat before, I mean we went to school with these lads and some of them were friends. We just suspended all that for street pride in the raid.
We were not too fazed, although he was a hard nut we had our own hard men, plus it was one onto thirty.
The odds changed a bit when Pongo pulled out his dads machete and headed straight for our leader. So we beat a hasty. Their gang came streaming and screaming after us, savouring their victory, we ran, across the wall, across the school field and over the railings. First to safety was Harry, last was little Kenny, five years old. In his panic, on top of the six foot school railings, Kenny slipped and fell. A railing spike went up each of his wellies (without impaling him) and he hung, upside down on our side of the fence, wailing. The b@stards used him for target practice.

A few days later, I was out foraging with Harry, looking for adventure, something to do. We lived on the outskirts of a big city but close enough to farmland to be able to walk into the countryside.
Harry was a great lad, tough and hard and a very fast runner, same age as me but a few inches taller. His family were very very poor. One day his mum sent him to school wearing a pair of his sisters knicks because she had no undies for him. He got busted and got ripped for years but, like I said, he toughed it out. One thing about Harry though, he was scared of dogs.

We found an orchard near a village green and decided to get in for some apples, but the fence was impenetrable. We skirted around looking for a way in, there was a fallow field with tall grass that led to the back of the orchard, we found a tiny gap in the hedge. We squeezed through.
'What if there are guard dogs?' asked Harry
'There's no need to be scared of dogs. Dogs will only attack you if you run, so keep still and they will wander off. I will go first, you follow on'
That reassured him and he followed me across the field. I led the way , then froze when a pair of ears pricked up above the three foot grass. They were big alsation ears. Then the eyes. It loomed up like the hound of the fkng Baskervilles.
'Keep still' I hissed.
'Urrgghhh' (I think he was a bit scared)
The dog too a step towards me, 20 yards away, we stared eyeball to eyeball, I was fearless, I was man the hunter. Then one million years of evolution followed by eight years of being a feral scouser kicked in and I turned and ran.
Harrys eyes were like saucers, he looked at me disapprovingly as I flashed past him. Then I heard as he turned and started to run,... too late. I heard the allie crash through the grass, then a snarl, then a tussle, then a heart rending moan, then I was through the hedge. I turned to help Harry. It was a bit harder for him to get through seeing as he had a dog attached to his @rse that probably weighed more than he did.

We stood there shaking, the dog was going loopy but couldnt get at us, then we surveyed the damage. Harry had blood running down his legs, his little school shorts had a big square ripped out, through the tear in the cloth I could see a lump of flesh hang down, attached by a bit of skin.
He started to cry.
'Me mams gonna kill me when she sees that rip in me keks'

I thought 'Harry, you just had half your bum bit off by the hound from hell, your shoes are filling up with blood, your bessie mate did a runner and left you to die and you are worried that yer ma might give yer a thick ear'

It was hard to bear.