76yrs on…

ah but, would you have looked at the post if it had been ” 76yrs on from Pearl Harbour attack…”, at least you were inquisitive enough to read the post, and therefore remember that day. On the other hand if you see any other of my “cryptic” posts you are not obliged to open them… also if you want to do a daily cryptic post, I have no objection, they might be interesting.

regards,
jack…

Seems strange to post and then expect no reply. Or maybe I can save you the cryptic posting and do one of my own each day but have the courtesy to explain to others what I’m rambling on about.

hi,
sorry if my post upset anyone, but if it makes you think, then you remember.

oh and sabrejet perhaps next May 15th when I post a nudge of remembrance you will find no need to post a reply…

regards,
jack…

adrian_gray that is some ability!!! I could have written that a million times and no-one would have got it. You’ve made my day. “part time punks” wasn’t my next bit though 🙂

Pearl Harbour. Took me a good second and a half.

It’s why Sabrejet is singing “Part Time Punks” that has me bemused.

Adrian

Oh goody, another cryptic post :confused:

Brian

Here he comes, tra la la la la la…

My late parents married on the 3rd September 1932…..
I remembered both today as I put flowers on the family graves.
mmitch.

I must say that I am disappointed at the lack of comment about the date in the media – you’d think that it was just another day. I’m too young to remember the outbreak of the war (born 1937) but I have vivid memories of events in its latter years – bombed buildings, a tree in our garden losing the top 10 feet to a hit and run raider being pursued by RAF fighters, an MOI film warning about the danger of ‘butterfly bombs’, a mobile AA 4.5 opening up a few yards away from our house, spending nights in our shelter (the indoors one – I can NEVER remember which was the Anderson and which the Morrison), finding lumps of shrapnel in the street, the awful sound of glass being swept up after a raid blew out shop windows (even now, the noise of sweeping up broken glass brings it all back).
My most vivid memory, however, is the end of the war in Europe. We lived in a village outside Cambridge at the time and I had gone into the kitchen to pour myself a drink of water. Looking out of the window I could see a couple of cyclists riding by (can’t remember if male or female, young or old) and my mother bursting in from the living room where she had been listening to the radio (OK – wireless!) and saying ‘The war is over! The war is over!”
I couldn’t really understand what she was saying – at seven years old – getting on for eight – war was all that I had known. Somehow, my child’s mind couldn’t comprehend that there was an alternative to a state of war
Mike