Posts by Rogue Trader

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UKHippy is a long running online community and of likeminded people exploring all interpretations on what it means to be living an alternative lifestyle -- we welcome discussions on everything related to sustainability, the environment, alternative spirituality, music, festivals, politics and more -- membership of this website is free but supported by the community.

    I’m assuming from another thread (child punishment) there’s quite a few of us who didn’t have too rough a childhood. We all got through it anyway. That’s how it should be. :D We can all fuck up (make mistakes) from time to time and it’s natural for kids to test the boundaries.


    What us, as kids can’t be blamed for or really have any control over, is the physical, verbal altercations our parents might have had between themselves while raising a family.

    I swore that I wouldn’t bring physical violence/altercations into my own family life after experiencing it living with my mother and father. I’m coming up to 60 and I honestly thought most of us at onetime or another heard/saw our parents arguing or worse, fighting. I know I did and it started at a very early age. Probably at the time my memories start.


    My dad was a bit of a rough, tough drinking teddy boy. He didn’t come from a violent home, but grew up in that home where he was called upon to (put his fighting skills to use). Neighbours (wives of drunks) often called at my grandmothers home, asking for my dad to go and calm down (put to bed) the drunks. This was in a South Yorkshire mining village, on the outskirts of Barnsley in the late 1950/60’s. He got the job done too. He gave drunks a choice. “Go through the door and to bed, respect your wife or through your window and be put to sleep”. It was such a regular occurrence. He was the one local residents called on.


    When us kids came along he moved into a house with my mum and she being a stunning hippy chick. Trouble was never far away when out drinking in clubs/pubs or out patching. Dad would not fight in front of mum in these establishments and would leave with mum. Returning shortly afterwards with a pick axe handle, where bones got broke. I think I was 3 or 4, I can remember on many occasions being woken up at night and then waiting downstairs in my white vest and pants, with my brother and younger sister. While the police tried to find a safe house (willing neighbours) before arresting dad, as mum was in no fit state (scared) to look after us and deal with my dad. I often recall images of broken furniture. Fist holes in the walls and front door. I remember how scared us kids were, scared for ourselves, for mum and daft as it sounds, scared for dad.


    Years later we moved South, where dad found his regular drinking hole was frequented by dickheads from all walks of life. Dad would often return home with his poaching jacket ripped, he would sleep off the ale in the armchair and mum would let us know “he’s been fighting again” Dad wouldn’t take shit from up and coming hard men, or goby landowners (gamekeepers) but he was generally fair. He didn’t look for the fight, just finished them. As teenagers, dad would warn us against going in the dustbin. He’d tell us he’d taken a gun or a knife off someone and cut it up. It’s in the bin, don’t touch


    As I got older, every other year mum and dad would be arguing and it got out of hand. Though us kids hoped it would fizzle out, sometimes it was the smashing of glass and breaking wood, along with mum screaming and shouting that upset us most. Being the middle kid, I was best placed to break up the fights. Once or twice I would stand in between them. Mum held against a door with a knife in her hand (blood marks on the paintwork (mum not holding knife right, not a stabbing) I always took mums side and would shout “leave her alone bastard”. This really worked. To see hear your own kids so upset, that they stand up to you in all your rage and craziness. Several times mum left dad, separating for several weeks at a time. That was horrible. Having to choose between them. Several times I opted to leave with mum. Once ending up in Durham with some distant relatives. As I got older. I chose to stay with dad. I had grown to realise, mum gave as good as she got. Mum knew his triggers, but pulled them anyway. They stayed together until dad died at 57. The arguments became less often, the silent treatment lasted longer. Us kids grew up and moved out.


    Years later, mum confessed, dad had by far been the best husband and man, out of all the men she got to know since his death. That comment surprised me. Relationships are dynamic and we often forget the worst times.


    To this day I won’t let an argument get out of hand with a partner and I can argue with the best. More than anything, I won’t expose any of my kids to the violence, fear and disfunction I experience as a kid with my mum and dad.


    Was I half right, in thinking lots of couples (our parents) argued, broke things, temp separated while trying to raise a family?


    Any of you lot relate to the above? Something similar in your childhood? In your relationship/s


    it’s all fuck-loops throwing a tissy about Jake’s statement. Ok he used a banner towed by a plane (graffitiing is illegal) so no crime there.


    Jake took it upon himself to declare white lives matter, following the murder of 3 x white people in Reading.

    In a healthy world BLM would not only agree with Jakes protest, but would support it too.


    This is all heading into dangerous territory. If Jake can’t make this statement, then a lot of people are possibly being racist, hypocritical definitely.

    “Don’t drink the white guilt” seems to be the moto going about on social media, referring to the BBC trying to make a bigger issue out of it.


    Manchester City was just the better side and the score proved that.

    I think you have it just right Paul. It might actually be easier just the one person modding. Though your always on duty like the home guard. Roamer would have got by me plenty of times by now.
    I’m noticing far more ruthless, two faced censorship on social media than ever before. What bugs me about it is they target those with the biggest message and most followers and not necessarily the most dangerous or offensive using platforms. How informative social media could become if censorship was implemented responsibly or stopped altogether.

    Nice one Stirlingb :thumbup::)


    Life’s a bit like gardening. It looks easy for some, but many of us that have a go, forget to water, or find we don’t put the time in to tend the growing plants. In reality we are all capable of doing our best and if conditions are suitable. We become those gardeners folk think it comes easy to. None of us have all the answers, skills are learnt as we go along. One thing I gather from most folk is they have ideas and often goals. Achieving them goals is the same as gardening. Put it out there, tend it. Give it time and nurture those skills. People are like the veg/plants. Plenty of variety, potential and there’s always room to grow and spread out. Often other folk can nurture us too. Show us what’s on the packet. A season is a longtime and we are all growing together. :)

    Having a laugh. Back when hippies were connecting online, Im sure there were five to ten threads started each day and 100 plus post per day was what kept many of us out the pub and engaged. We are close to averaging one thread a day on a good day. Yet the world for most of us has never been so fragmented and confusing. I know there isn’t one of us who isn’t suffering in one way or another. It may not be financial, our home life or lack of one, relationships, job prospects or political point of view. it could be something deep within us, just now triggered by all that’s been going on.


    We all have something to say, to talk about, to share. Why not take the opportunity to share your concerns, insecurities, worries, hopes or dreams. Sometimes getting another view point can help us to see the obvious or help us formulate decisions and stimulate ideas into focused actions.


    What have you got to loose? A little time, what have you got to gain? Only you will know that.


    So come on. Who are you? What you done? What you want to do? Where you going? What’s your fears? Talk to us!

    I feel frustrated and tired. 5th morning in a row I’ve been woken up before 4.30am with bluddy back pain. I’ve avoided taking a nap in the daytime to maintain routine and body clock. Hotwater bottle and medication takes a couple of hours to ease it up. The bird calls from outside are pure music to me. If we are lucky enough to live for 70 years, all the early mornings in that time, isn’t enough to appreciate this natural beautiful experience. Something reminiscent to the joy a boat of people must feel, when witnessing a pod of wales surfacing unexpectedly. And yet common sounds most folk are usually oblivious to in daily life. Like appreciating the arrival of each summer as we get older. There’s pleasure to be found, even when we might be in pain. When I first injured my back, I lay upstairs in bed in my double decker bus, parked up on my land. I realised if I were no more than a head on a pillow. With only my eyes, life can still be beautiful.
    Hopefully I will catch another hour or two sleep, before the day becomes real. Thank the gods the world is healthy and accommodating.

    Tonight I watched a kids animated film with my little girl. The parents of these 5 kids didn’t really want their 4 kids plus one adopted baby. They accused the children of eating all the food and wanting too much attention. As punishment the oldest boy was thrown in the coal cellar (house basement, housing the solid fuel furnace). I told my little girl that was what my mother did with me and my older brother if we misbehaved. (Sounds barbaric nowdays) but it was a detached brick built building, out in the yard. No electricity, covered in coal dust and cobwebs. A small gap above the door (for ventilation and let the bats out) My mother would lock me and my brother in there with the threat of “wait till your dad gets back (from the pub) to give you the belt”. We got used to the punishment, but we were temporarily petrified of the threat of physical violence, which never really happened. Luckily my dad was usually in a better mood on returning from the pub. He might send us to bed or give us a lecture.
    Sometimes we were sent up into the empty attic to wait for my dads return. My older brother taught me how to piss in a empty milk bottle, which he then hid in the eves of the roof trusses under the slate roof, accessed by a tiny wooden door. My brother was worried that my need to ask to pee would enrage mum even more and sure as anything, probably make matters (physical punishment more likely for him). it turned out, If we were quiet for long enough, mum would free us from the attic (lesson learned) and not bother drunken dad with any kid unruliness.


    As kids a slap or threats of were enough to keep us in check.


    A older mate of mine was less fortunate. His dad a ex military man with a family of 4 boys. My mate was 3rd youngest and had a bad stutter as a child. Bad enough to embarrass his dad. If he couldn’t ask for food at the diner table without stuttering. The old man would order one of the older brothers to tie my mate up to the drainpipe outside the house (in all weathers) and forfeit dinner. This became a regular thing. My mate learnt to avoid family meals. Preferring to spend time in the local woods, eating birds eggs and occasional birds.
    When older and at secondary school, At night he got into the habit of sneaking the odd biscuit or bread out of his mums pantry, when everyone was a sleep in bed. This didn’t go unnoticed and soon the old man was insisting the older boys glued my mates eyelids closed at night, and they had to be like that the following morning. All true.


    What form of punishment (if any) were you or your kin exposed to at home?

    It’s going to cost UK tax payers £120million to provide £15 per week food vouchers to qualifying school children over the summer. No help for the thousands of home educated children (many who would be considered eligible if registered in a DofE school) reeks of discrimination. If this Covid bailout takes 20 years to pay back. Many homeschooled children will possibly be paying tax at some point, for something they were denied when vulnerable. :whistle:

    1976

    Even if we were maybe even not aware of it being specifically the longest day 76 had to be the best summer ever to be a kid in England. Probably a nightmare for some parents though.

    it was a good year. Very hot. Our local fishing lake became Mecca for youths. I got back from a family holiday to find the ambulance at the side of the lake and a large crowd gathered. A kid my older brothers age had drowned trying to swim across the lake (at its deepest, but shortest point) The paper reported he was a strong swimmer from the local comprehensive school. Truth was he could hardly swim well at all. He was wearing his football boots at the time, which didn’t help when he got tangled in the submerged weeds.

    That hot summer dried up much of the entire lake. Leaving cracking mud flats and large pike struggling to find oxygen in the remaining shallow water. We collected the massive dying pike and sold them to the local Chinese takeaway.

    I’m sure we might struggle to recall the exact year, old gits. But the memory of the event is just as important.


    I’ve had so many summer solstice celebrations. While still at school I had the pleasure of hanging around with older hippies, and a brother who lived in tipis in local woodlands. So I had the opportunity to start early. My first Solstice at Stonehenge 1982, I wasn’t that impressed with the solstice sunrise ritual and annual overcrowding of the stone circle. It was more like chaos, on a organic climbing frame.
    After the first week at the festival, I was so high, a moonwalk would have appeared normal to me.
    1983 at Stonehenge, I climbed a burial mound to sit quietly & with many strangers I watched the sunrise, while looking over the City of coloured vehicles, fabric and people stretching out in all directions. That was a very spiritual experience. The love I felt emanating from the festival became a foundation for future Solstices.


    I’ve since celebrated Summer Solstices at various stone circles throughout the UK, and many of them on my own bit of land. Memories I do treasure to this day.
    By far the most visually moving (spectacular even) was watching the 2011 solstice sunrise (sat alone) on a rock facing out to sea, on the Isle of Wight.

    The optical allusion, where time stalled, as the sun broke free from the horizon. The golden shaft of blinding sunlight stretched across the entire flat sea, beaming directly to the rock I clung to. The warmth and brilliance, combined with the sound of lapping water, was more than enough company for me.

    Today I woke in pain at 4.30am. Stepping out into the damp morning air I pondered the many souls, looking into grey skies. Another Solstice, for some, special again. Farther’s day and solar eclipse (Eastern skies). In a world in turmoil, the seasons beat to a ancient rhythm.


    Have you got memories of a favourite summer solstice you can share? :)

    Oh no MJ just makes me think of Michael Jackson 😱😂 so is Dovedale a more regulars kinda thing? I’d love to go, I’m seriously lacking a hippy community of my own these days!

    Dovedale is for everyone, old, new and still in the bellies, many no longer active on here, some are friends of members present and past. The campsite is open to the public also. Only rules are the farmers & 40 years on, he still hasn’t made them clear to me. All members are encouraged to come along. Putting faces to names and good friendships blossom. I recommend it to new members, it fastbacks enjoyment, love and possibly mutual respect :D

    Above all it gives a little back to each and everyone of us. Quality time shared.


    Dovedale really is set in accessible, beautiful ancient Derbyshire Countryside. With over 20 stone Circles, henges, barrows. The river dove runs adjacent to the campsite and at knee deep to mums or dads, is perfect for kids to splash (supervised) dogs on leads, or under close control. There’s love in the grass, trees, rocks, water, vehicles, tents and fires. :)

    Our little girl kept saying “what the” to everything for months after Dovedale. I think it was part of the vocals they put to every little film she made with your boys. She Really loves Dovedale camp. :)


    If we get the chance for a week or longer. I would like to try some Earth art project. I’m thinking a giant pebble/rocks Lizard/serpent in the river.


    Sorry Melody-Jam here’s your thread back. We can/will open a dedicated thread if needed. :thumbup:

    Love to know more about this Dovedale event?

    A couple of links to Dovedale gatherings gone. I’ve tried to link to photos, but I’ve only scratched surface in two threads, out of probably more than 10 years worth of Dovedale gatherings. It’s all on here somewhere, the good, bad and lovely dirty. Actually, we have never had any trouble in all those years and most hippies have tried to return year in year out. Take a look. I’m sure someone else can find more photograghs.



    DOVEDALE GATHERING 2017 (27th Aug - 3rd Sep)


    DOVEDALE GATHERING AUGUST 2016

    I think he will have had his cows on there for these summer months, and sheep will be moved on afterwards. I don’t see him opening up just for August/September though. From what I’ve been told, he has had to preliminarily give notice to cancel the adjacent field party this year. We may get special consent if we can offer a set number of units/heads for a long week of hippy camping. I was going to speak to him beginning of July. I will be disappointed if we don’t get a long weekend there, but to pay insurance and rates for such a short season, won’t make farming sense. His Son is now managing the farm and his view on campers, is very different to his dads view. His son likes busy bank holidays where the money makes the hassle viable.

    boy! haha missed that bit out....

    cool, if you/we get the chance to hold our annual UKH gathering at Dovedale, bring your boy. It’s very child friendly and they will each have stories to tell about hippy parents in years to come.

    We have a gorgeous 5year old girl too.

    . I get that you are probably being satirical but it really isn't anything to smile about.

    what eating kids or putting folk off breeding? I’m for neither. Being a prepper I’ve fed the missus up.:) Just incase we run out of neighbours and lorries stop delivering to shops. I’ve bought a 2metre sword off eBay, I can’t run after them these days. :reddevil: