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Dangerous Pastimes

Photo copyright: Ted S
Photo copyright: Ted Strutz.

Acrid smoke touched my throat, whilst a pungent smell saluted my nose. Bone dry dust surrounded me, lifted by the heat coming from the buried detritus of humanity. It might have been a surreal landscape, except for the fact that it was populated by my friends from the Brookhill gang. We visited most days crossing the worn planks that functioned as a bridge for the strangely clad men in their beaten up vehicles that arrived most days to deposit more unwanted gems from the community. Gems which the gang recycled. Including old bikes which in time we would refashion into dreams.

Genre: Memoirs.

This Post Has 31 Comments
    1. It’s a long time since I have seen that word ‘totting’, But you are right it was a dangerous thing to do. There was a lot of lead and worse lying around, and there where accidents. However when I look back, totting was one of the least dangerous activities I got up too!

    1. Suzanne, It was good to know how the story came across as you read it. However this particular story was factual, indeed it was me in the 1950s ‘totting’ on a burning rubbish tip. I was a bit of a ragamuffin, although I had caring and loving parents.

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