Memoirs of an Ordinary Guy

Memoirs of an Ordinary Guy

Come inside and reminisce with me as I take you on a humorous journey of discovery, disappointments, fun and adventures of my life, just an ordinary guy growing up in the 70’s and 80’s.

From boyhood to manhood and all my escapades in between.

Meet the characters I encountered along the way whom helped make this a funny, yet almost truthful account of my memoirs.


My earliest memories date back to when I was a bonnie wee lad, swinging to and fro in my wooden-slatted swing, which Dad had strung up in the back door leading from the kitchen, to what then appeared to be an extraordinarily large garden. The aroma of Mum's home-cooked pie and cabbage filled the air, as I swung backwards into the kitchen and the summer sun scorched my blonde curls, as I ventured forth into garden.

Is it just me, or do the memories of your youth distort the truth? Looking back now, I seem to remember the odour of cabbage staying with me as I swung, not only into the kitchen but also into our miniature plot that backed onto an extraordinarily large field, where Mum would take me, while she picked potatoes for a living. Well, that's when I wasn't happily swinging with a nappy full of cabbage-flavoured shit for a cushion. Oh, those hazy days of summer.

Just like my clothes in later years, this swing had been handed down from sisters to brothers. I come from a fairly large family which I think had something to do with mum and dad not having a TV. Let me take a moment here to introduce them. Carol is the eldest, then comes Shelagh, Wendy and Maureen followed by the twins Maurice and Lorraine and then of course the baby of the family, me or beanpole as mum used to say 'her little beanpole.'

As I was saying those hazy summer days and one image springs to mind, Jane. Who I suppose you could class as my first girlfriend.

I was about seven as I recall, the colours seeming so vibrant, yet dreamy as I lay beneath the soft blueness of the sky, the suns rays filtering through cotton wool clouds, warming my brow. The lush greens of the grass like a soft under blanket and janes turquoise covered lap as my pillow. We were amidst a kaleidoscope of colours.

As I lay dreaming, Jane places a band of yellow and white over my head, a chain she had made from the myriad of daisies that surrounded us.

I don't have many memories of my baby days from so obviously not a lot happened. Now  allow me to take you further on my journey, if you dare. To the schoolboy encounters.


I gathered up my collection of LP's, 45's, including my fluorescents. I even let my folk one go. Not that I listened to it much. The local collector must have thought it was Christmas when the bell chimed on his door, I could see the money signs in his eyes even before I dumped my box of goodies on his counter. He looked up from his "racing post", removed his Trilby and peered over the top of his wireframe spectacles as I entered.

"Good morning sir, how can I help you today?" He asked.

I placed the box in front of him. "It's how I can help you." I thought.

"Having a clear out are we sir?" He continued.

"Something like that." I replied.

"What we got here then?" 

What's with all the fucking questions, just give the fucking money so I can go get some fucking nappies. I wasn't happy giving up my years of collectibles.

"Ah old records, not much call for them now-a-days, not with them disc things out now." He said.

"Yes I know, but got some coloured albums in there too though."

"Gonna cost me to shift em, gotta make a profit you see."

"They are well looked after, all original covers." I said.

He stayed silent for a while as he rifled deeper into the box.

"Ah now this looks interesting."  He said, pulling the folk one out.

"Great." I thought "so it does have more than sentimental value."

"Oh my mistake." He said, dashing my hopes. "Not what I thought it was."

He stood back, scratching his head.

"Not nicked are they?" 

For fuck sake, I may be penniless and dressed in last years fashion, but did I seriously look that bad.

"Do you want them or not?" I snapped.

"No offence meant sir, no offence."

He place his trilby back on his head and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.  Maybe to hide his embarrassment.

"Give you a score." He said.

The bell rang again as I left the shop empty handed, but twenty pounds richer. I walked sullenly home, knowing I would never have a collection like that again.