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Ball scratching
#21
(03-02-17, 10:51 AM)lew600fazer link Wrote: When you think about all the stuff that is coming out now about historical child abuse, be it in Council run homes for children taken into care or so called Christian run homes be they Catholic or Protestant . These bastards should be hunted down and be banged up. Also these fuckers who groom children for sex , I am talking about the cunts in places like Rochdale. They put them selves as being good Muslims, try the fuckers under Sharia Law, they will not be kiddie fiddling again that is for sure.
Anyone sent down for abusing children should have it tattooed on their fore heads I am a child abuser.


You're gonna have to start with the big man Mohammed himself then.
Just saying...... :tape
More people are born because of alcohol than will ever die from it.
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#22
(03-02-17, 10:51 AM)lew600fazer link Wrote: [size=1em]

When you think about all the stuff that is coming out now about historical child abuse, be it in Council run homes for children taken into care or so called Christian run homes be they Catholic or Protestant . These bastards should be hunted down and be banged up. Also these fuckers who groom children for sex , I am talking about the cunts in places like Rochdale. They put them selves as being good Muslims, try the fuckers under Sharia Law, they will not be kiddie fiddling again that is for sure.
Anyone sent down for abusing children should have it tattooed on their fore heads I am a child abuser.
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[size=1em]


Reading lew660's post makes me think about my childhood.


I'm out of South Ealing in suburbia London, (This is not a hard luck story, so please don't read it as one) I lost my mum aged 5 (that was me that was 5 not my Mum) I'm trying to keep it light Smile 

Dad could not look after us kids, older brother Mick and younger sister Lorraine, bearing in mind this was in 1952, (some rationing was still in after the war) so Mick and I went into an orphanage in Perivale South London, Lorraine went into a Nursery near Kingston. A lot of the orphanages then were very basic, unless you were fortunate enough to get sent to a Benardos or a Shaftsbury orphanage as these were run by charities, but still no substitute for a family home with parents about.

You hear so much theses days about abuse, both physical and sexual, but, I have to say my experiences as a kid were OK not brilliant but OK.
Relatives were actively discouraged from visiting children in the orphanage because some of the children in there had lost both parents in the bombing during the war, and when relatives or single parent left to go home, there were tears and heartache from the children, so as I said visits were actively discouraged.

Discipline was rigid, and now as an adult (Steady you lot) I understand why it had to be, but there was no love from staff, they were there doing a job of work struggling to keep house and home together for themselves.
We were fed, kept warm and sent to school to be educated, as I said discipline was rigid, you knew the rules if you broke them you suffered the consequences.

What is now encouraged in families was totally discouraged then, Talking at the table during meal times would have you standing up behind your pushed in chair whilst you watched the other children eat their meal. It was one of the rules, so abide by it, you learned quickly. Children even down to age 4 were made to help with household chores washing up, drying up and putting away after meals, sweeping the dormitories and upper corridors. Children were not allowed to keep anything if sent in by relatives, sweets and toys were retained and put into communal sweet tins and toy boxes for sharing, again now I realise why this was done, as stated earlier a lot of the older children had no one to send stuff in as both parents had died during the war, it was a form of Communism, and it worked.
Then aged 15 the children left the orphanage and went out to make their own way in the world, 15 was the working age then, out you go get a job.
Thinking about it now some of the poor kids that left at 15 went on the streets as they had no one.
I was fortunate my Dad remarried and got Mick, Lorraine and me out of care and we moved down to a village in West Sussex called Fernhurst.

I have to say that the system was harsh, but as long as you towed the party line and kept your nose clean, it was OK not brilliant but OK.
And to be honest I was in the orphanage from just under 5 till age 11, and really I remember nothing different it was my informative years, it was normal for me.[/size]

As I said earlier this is not a hard luck story it was OK. Some of the kids in that place could tell you stories that were not OK, sleeping rough in suburbia, freezing cold with very little to eat and no one to watch out for them, I often wonder what happened to some of them.

As I said I was one of the lucky ones, my Bro, Sis and me were rescued before leaving time aged 15.
[The regime was hard but as long as you were good you were looked after, I recall being smacked so many times for bad behaviour, but thinking about it now discipline was the only thing that kept the place running smoothly.The orphanage was called Alexander House, Queens Walk, Perivale, the last time I went there was about 35 years ago now and it was an old people home. Might not even be standing now.

My old house that we lived in as a family before Mum died has long gone, it was 4, North Road, South Ealing just off Gunnersbury Park, there a blocks of flats there now.

Below is a picture of Mick on the front and me on the pillion of Uncle Fred's Norton outside my house, the picture was taken about 4 months before we lost Mum.
The other picture was taken about 7 months before I was born, Its one of Mick and Mum and Dad. Mick's an ugly little bastard isn't he. :lol

Now you all know why I'm such a twat. :rollin :rollin :rollin :rolleyes



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#23
Thanks for sharing Tommy , I sailed with a lad many years ago, he was a Bernardo's boy , he joined the Merchant Navy at 15, he told me he always wanted to be on the Aussie ships, his reasoning was he was looking for his sister, she was transported in 1959 to Australia. Sadly in the days I sailed with him there was not the freedom of information available that there is today. I often wonder did they ever find each other.
MT-09 Tracer for those who no longer can handle a BIG boy Fazer
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