Peripheral
Dedicated Member
Hello everyone, first of all, VE day. I was only 9 years old at the time. We had a big party in the church hall. It was great. Yesterday, 75 years after the great day, we had more celebrations. Lots of people had sing songs in the street. We didn't have them here. Such a load of miserable people in this street. I am the oldest so I suppose that makes me number 1 miserable peopler. Last night we watched Vera Lynn singing all those wartime songs. What a lady, she is still alive and 103 years old. Fantastic. THE FORCES SWEETHEART. Listening to those songs made me think of what times were like back in those days. I do remember that we had much more snow back then. It wasn't unusual to have 12 inches of snow on the ground. We used to have such fun sledging, snowball fights and building snowmen
. All this reminiscing puts me in mind of an Eskimo I once knew called Nuniq. That is a genuine Eskimo name. He lived in a none up one down igloo. It was very cold where he lived and they had an outside toilet which meant he spent a lot of time in the hospital with frostbite in his bum. He used to play out in the muruaneq, deep soft snow, with his little qimmit. AHH, 1 or 2 of you are having naughty thoughts. His little qimmit was his little dog
. You can check these names on your search engine. Back to Nuniq. He used to work in an ice factory making ice cubes for the British whose refrigerators had broken down. He was married to a lady called Meriwa. Meriwa actually, in Eskimish, means thorn. Mmm, I once had a wife like that. She was in, not on, my side constantly. Nuniq, would work all day at chiselling ice cubes out of great dollops of ice and go home at tea time, take hold of his wife
and sing,
Igloo or igloo not my baby?
OH, just listen to all those groans. Just hang on in there, the worst is yet to come. Nuniq's wife, Meriwa, would spend the day slaving over a cold oven. On the day in question, she had cooked a fish
meal for him and proudly set it down on the table. Nuniq picked up his fork and chisel and hacked a lump of the meal his wife had spent the day cooking over a box of matches. He put it into his mouth, had one chew, and hastily spat it out. He looked at his wife and burst into song.
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WHALE MEAT AGAIN
OOPS....
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