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Sheffield Memories - Compiled By L.S.Dunone

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I know what you mean.

 

At the moment it is only available via this site. I am indeed L.S. Dunone (but don’t tell anyone).:)

 

 

Now youve made my day by admitting that. :D I will have to wait until I buy a printer and print your stories off.You are indeed brilliant. :thumbsup:

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A Very Sheffield Christmas

 

Dear Sir,

I'd like to share an old tale (no pun intended) with the readers, but before I embark (whoops, there I go again) on this story I first need to render some background details.

 

Many years ago a baby girl was left abandoned in a Ford Cortina on Abbeydale Road, however the hapless police did not notice the child and the rusting car was eventually taken to a scrap dealers in Hillsborough. Here it sat ignored at the back of the yard. This poor child would of starved if wasn’t for a couple of Alsatians that roamed the yard at night barking maniacally at anything that moved or made a sound. They shared their food with the child and over the months and years reared it as their own. Eventually the inevitable happened, one Christmas a customer looking for a pair of Cortina doors (a present for his wife) discovered her living on the festering back seat of the car.

 

News quickly spread of this amazing story, it even made the front page of the Sheffield Informer, the story included portrait pictures of the two dogs, Sabre and Kim. The child was named Holly and went to live in a house with a kindly, cosy local couple.

 

Holly kept the news paper cutting and had the two pictures of Sabre and Kim framed to preserve their images forever. They sat on her bedroom window sill; they were the only real parents she’d ever known.

 

Her first year living with people in a house had been a difficult experience. On the first anniversary of her discovery in the scrap yard, as she gazed at the images of Sabre and Kim, Holly felt sadder and more alone than ever.

 

That’s when she decided that she’d go and find her two surrogate canine parents and spend Christmas with them.

 

To be Continued....

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I certainly do hope it is to be continued.Do people realise who this writer is and read other peoples reviews of her books from her website ?

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One Christmas a customer looking for a pair of Cortina doors (a present for his wife)

 

A man after my own heart, d’you know I’ve just bought the wife a new oven and she is refusing to acknowledge that it is her main Christmas present, there’s no pleasing some women…

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A man after my own heart, d’you know I’ve just bought the wife a new oven and she is refusing to acknowledge that it is her main Christmas present, there’s no pleasing some women…

 

Glad so see that romance is still alive:hihi:

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A Very Sheffield Christmas cont....

 

She headed out for the scrap yard, and after an arduous journey arrived. However the scrap yard had dissolved into thin air and in its place stood a Chiropodists. Holly went inside and asked the receptionist what had happened to the scrap yard. Apparently the owner had recently retired and sold up; he’d barley had any time to himself during his adult life as he had dedicated so much time to the scrap yard. So he decided to buy a Crofters cottage in the Shetland islands where he planned to spend quality time intimately exploring his own body. The receptionist also went on to tell her that the dogs had been sold to a Father Christmas impersonator, who intended to use them as fake Reindeer.

 

This news hit Holly like a big-bang planetary explosion in outer space. But this was not the time for self indulgent sorrow; this was time for action. After employing honed skills of deduction she quickly surmised that the fake Santa would be in the city somewhere. She headed off by bus determined to find her misplaced parents. After a short ride she was in heart of the city of steel, she alighted the bus and headed towards the Moor, it was as if a giant yuletide magnate was pulling her along.

 

Sheffield, like all cities across England, had been enveloped by the spirit of Christmas, decorations filled window displays, irate shopper’s bustled from shop to shop and hordes of drunken shouting men marauded the streets. With no time for season indulgencies Holly made her way down to the Moor, stopping only for a portion of chips on the way. As she harpooned her first chip she heard the ringing of a bell which was quickly followed by a loud Ho-Ho-Ho. After unceremoniously slinging her chip paper onto the floor Holly made her way towards these sounds. And there, through the crowds, she could at last see not only the ruddy faced Santa but also Sabre and Kim, who were indeed in full Reindeer disguise complete with red noses made from hollowed out cricket balls.

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I do like this. And I also like reading it in short bits.You seem to be able to capture the spirit of Sheffield,but I suppose you could swap any name town in its place. Do you originally come from here ?

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Men Are Women

 

Dear Sir,

I was thumbing through some of my old school text books the other day and noticed one of my old biology books. I opened it on a random page and slowly scanned the yellowing pages, I then came across the following statement “Genetically, men are modified women.” This statement sent my mind racing; My husband was a woman. Both my parents are/were women. As I pondered this exciting news I noticed an old raffle ticket in my Manual of Human Services. I brought the ticket many years ago when Sid Edwards opened up his newsagents in Longley.

 

Sid didn’t know what to call his shop so he decided to have a raffle and let the winner have the honour of choosing the name. I clearly remember buying my ticket on my way to school, I also remember the sulphuric smell of Sid’s medicated dandruff shampoo, the pungent aroma filled the shop and added a pleansant clinical feel to the place. I considered buying two tickets at the time but decided on one ticket and a toffee bar instead. We were so flippant in those days.

 

The draw for the raffle was held in the town center on a sunny Sunday afternoon, a local radio presenter selected the winning ticket. I could not believe it, the winner was number 826 and my ticket was 825. Since this event I have always had an uneasy feeling at the back of mind, had I bought two tickets I would have one (sic). That day changed me forever. Mark Pheelan, who was origionally female for six weeks, won the raffle and chose to call the shop The Oriental Theater, Sid didn’t like this name so he decided to call the shop Edwards News instead.

 

Thanks,

 

Gwen McArthur.

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Am I reading this thread, or have I died and gone to Heaven? :huh::help::hihi:

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Knowledge and Understanding at Christmas

 

Dear Sir,

Christmas is strange time, it’s a time for joy and giving and also a time for thanks and intense reflection. My present always presents a dilemma for my wife, it’s not that she cannot decide on a gift, the problem is she has simply no idea what to get me. You would of thought after 22 years of marriage she’d know what I’d like; I suppose we don’t really know each other at all and nor do I want to.

 

This year though is an exception. They say that imitation is the best form of flattery and this Christmas I am going to flatter my friend and neighbor Roy Pikering by copying what he got given last year.

 

I remember the scene as if were yesterday, it was Boxing day and I was out in my front garden digging a hole when I looked up the street and saw Roy’s stout boaters legs carrying him down our road. I immediately noticed his gift at his side, it was a brand new gleaming bucket. Roy had used it to carry his packed lunch to work, I was lost for words when he passed by. The following weekend I was doing some washing up in the kitchen and I saw him getting his bike out of the shed, he was probably going fishing or maybe fancied some exercise. Just before he rode off he placed his bucket on his head, employing it as a safety helmet, I watched in rapt wonder. The following day was bitterly cold and rainy, this didn’t stop Roy though, out he went for his morning constitutional again wearing the bucket on his head, using this time as a rain resistant bonnet.

 

Roy’s gain will also be mine on the 25th, his wife’s knowledge and understanding should serve and food for thought for other wives. After all, a little time and thought go a long long way these days.

 

 

Yours,

 

Alf Stovepipe.

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Oh, seriessix, we are drowned in professional stories.(Have I spelt professional right ?) But they are always tip top.

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