Another day, another meme. This one came courtesy of the excellent Mr Bottle-In-Front-Of-Me who blogs here so you can see his effort after. When I saw it I had only one thought. <sarcasm>“Thanks mate” </sarcasm>. However having written it, I realised many of the events took place around the same sort of time, a period I like to call The Wasted Years for more than one reason. Here then is how not to spend your yoof.
Even though I live in Brighton I’ve never been tempted by Bromance. One of my first girlfriends of note was called Kylie. As my name is Jason and we’re talking late 1980s this caused no end of mirth. My street cred has only been lower once, the dreaded day when I did the school run in jeans covered in Drapolene stains.
First person I kissed?
Without tongues it was Julie Francis (because she smelled of strawberry chapstick) at a Primary School disco and with tongues it was a girl I worked evenings at the Co-Op with. Both times I was terrified. Julie later two-timed me with a bigger boy called Bradley and Co-Op girl turned out to be a lesbian. I know, you’re already thinking ‘how does this guy have kids?’
I had the qualifications to go to Uni but my parents had just finished a messy and violent divorce and I had just started a love affair with lager and football. I had neither the funds nor the will to carry on Education and in fact if I had not gone to work at 18 and started paying my Dad rent then the house would have been repossessed. I worked processing mortgage application forms for a Building Society. It was mind numbingly shit. My ultimate boss was lovely but my immediate one was a booze hound who lived under 17 inches of make up and cried when Maggie Thatcher left office. The Society was taken over and I was made redundant after 18 months with a 3 month tax-free wage payoff. Best thing that ever happened to me. Well after the kids. And meeting the wife. And Ashley Barnes scoring against Dagenham and Redbridge. And the time I found out the answer to who would win a fight between Naughty Panda and a Weeble. But it’s up there.
First Pay Packet – What Did You Buy
I was earning the princely sum of £5300 a year at the Building Society. I would have spent everything (after rent) on following Brighton and Hove Albion home and away, beer, Marlboro Lights and 12’’ dance remixes because that’s how I spent every pay packet at that job.
First CD I Remember Buying
Me and my brother survived on buying and swapping tapes and vinyl for as long as I can remember. I can remember some of my first CD buys being ‘The Birth Of Shiva Shanti’ by Sound Clash Republic (aka DJ Fabi Paras), ‘Dubnobasswithmyheadman’ by Underworld and ‘The Stone Roses’ by The Stone Roses as my cassette version of that finally broke from over playing. Couldn’t say which or even if any of them were first but I remember them because I got a buzz buying them. I get to go quality record shopping far too infrequently now I have young kids.
First Holiday Abroad?
I take it that you mean ‘that I paid for’. If so it was Ibiza with the lads in 1991 and I remember nothing except foam, transvestites and my mate being stalked by a large German called Heidi. It was in the middle of spending my aforementioned redundancy which was good as it took 2 weeks to recover from a 1 week holiday. Amusingly this is my idea of hell now. I want somewhere quiet and warm with good food. Not Ibiza. Not even the posh bits. My first time abroad by myself was an exchange with Mormons from Idaho, a “prize” I won at 16 in an essay competition. I could write a whole blog post about that though. In fact, fuck it, I could write a book about it.
What age were you when you moved out of your parent’s house?
Hmm. My dad, post divorce eventually met someone else, now his 2nd wife and a truly excellent woman. He moved in with her before while our house was on the market leaving me and brother on our own in his 4 bed house at 19 and 16 respectively (I’m the eldest). Amazingly it still sold and so for a while I moved back in with Dad and new GF. Then I unofficially took root at a shared house just up the road from them, coming home once a week. However I only got my act together to start properly renting with a mate at 23.
So there we have it. ALL my dirty laundry hung out on the blogosphere public clothes line. Now I have to pick 2 other poor unfortunates to answer the same. I am going straight to the funny ladies here and choosing motherventing and jbmumofone because I think they’d both do a superb job. Bad luck you two!