One moment you remember - stories to share around the OTF fireplace

[Rogin the Armchair fan]

To ask for just one moment, I know, is almost impossible, as we've all got loads we'd love to share. I could bang on about my weddings, the births of my daughters, the morning my cat died in my arms. But now, just now, what comes to your mind, to bring to a thread meant to capture the moment you just thought about?

For me today it's yes, That Night In Istanbul, that I watched in my packed local pub with lots of friends. At half time (you'll recall the way the game went) my mate Richie said to me "we're still going to win this". I said "You're mad, I just hope this doesn't get embarassing!". He died a couple of years afterwards, from cancer. I'm going to miss him tomorrow but I'll always remember him saying that at half time.

[treibeis]

Saying to who is now The Lady I Walked To The Registry Office With, "Somebody's going to take you home tonight, so it might as well be me." For the record, I didn't take her home.

I've got all the lines, I have.

[Amor de Cosmos]

The moment my son emerged into the subdued light of the birthing room. It's branded on my brain forever in the neural equivalent of Technicolor and Dolby sound.

[WOM]

The same for me when my daughter was born. I felt it at the time, and I feel it again whenever I think about that moment.

[HORN]

There is something I'd very much like to share. However the chapter is not yet complete.

I know. How irritating.

[WOM]

Does it involve a 'chance' encounter with a seal?

[Nocturnal Submission]

"Try as I might, I could not remove the vision of the seal from my mind's eye. The liquid eyes, the playful whiskers, the way the sun played on its glistening skin. There was nothing for it, I had to return to the cove!"

[WOM]

<clicks Download e-Book Now furiously>

[Antepli Ejderha]

The moment I held my daughter in my arms for the very first time and how incredibly strong the grip of her hand was on my little finger. Then having to take her to get an IV line fitted and how she didn't cry but kept on gripping me. And from then on all those little moments, those seemingly insignificant things like how I pat her back to burp her and whenever I pick her up she starts to pat my back now. Nothing can ever prepare you for how magical all this is.

[Nocturnal Submission]

It's a lovely idea for a thread, Rogin, albeit one for you to shoehorn in a bloody reference to Liverpool

Like some of the other contributors, I've got a ton of wonderful moments with my children to recall, but I thought I'd go for something else.

My wife and I got married in Toronto and decided to have our reception on a boat and sail around Lake Ontario during the evening. My parents were there - I think it was the first time that they had ever travelled abroad together. Anyway, my mum was a simple woman, happiest when she was looking after her family. Not a big socialiser; few hobbies. So we're on the boat and the food was great and it's a beautiful evening. Toronto looks lovely from the lake and everyone is having a nice time. And I catch my mum's eye and ask her if she's enjoying herself and she just says, with a wistful look in her eyes, "It's magical!"

That it was so special for her was one of the best things about the day, and there were lots of things to choose from. It's kind of lovely when someone who demands so little for themselves finally receives their reward.

[Sits]

"Try as I might, I could not remove the vision of the seal from my mind's eye. The liquid eyes, the playful whiskers, the way the sun played on its glistening skin. There was nothing for it, I had to return to the cove!"

You forgot the stench.

[Nocturnal Submission]

You forgot the stench.

If only I could.

[Femme Folle]

Waking up in the recovery room after my appendectomy. I was amazed and very happy that I was so completely unaware of the details of what had just happened to me. I had a lifelong fear of having surgery, and when the doc diagnosed appendicitis, I was absolutely terrified. I was afraid of all of the usual things--what if I'm aware of everything during the operation? What if I die on the operating table? What if it hurts? So when I woke up and the nurse rolled me over and jabbed some narcotics into my hip, I was barely conscious, but conscious enough to know that none of my worst fears had been realised. I honestly will never forget that moment.

[Sits]

This isn't my intended contribution to the thread but FF's post has brought a memory leaping to the forefront of my mind. The moment I awoke after my kidney transplant almost 15 years ago. Similar fears to FF's, coupled with greater fears for my brother in the neighbouring theatre, literally putting his life on the line for me. The poor guy isn't with us any more but I'll never forget those before/after emotions.

[Femme Folle]

He was a true hero, as all organ donors are.

[Sits]

You're too right.

Edit: and of course he is still with me, literally a part of me.

Sentimental segue over.

[Patrick Thistle]

A week before my 18th birthday I passed my driving test. I'd already failed twice, I disliked my instructor, and dreaded my lessons. So when the examiner, who had already failed me previously, told me I'd passed, I felt stunned and relieved.

At home, shortly afterwards, my mum suggested I take the car out. I can't remember where I was going but I obviously looked nervous so she told me to take our dog with me.

Our dog was a rescue dog. A small, brown, short-haired, good-natured, greedy, intelligent, gorgeous creature. She was a good traveller, usually sitting in the footwell on the passenger side of the car. (Leaving hair all over your trouser legs if you were a passenger!)

I opened the passenger side door and she hopped in. Then I closed the door and went round and got into the drivers seat.

Here's the moment I'll never forget. She looked up at me, curious that it was just us in the car, then pulled herself up onto the passenger seat and settled down, looking out of the window, as if to say, "Well, if we are all getting promoted..."

And then we drove.

[steveeeeeeeee]

The day my family moved to London, I had just had my seventh birthday. It was all a bit hectic and rushed in the morning, my dad was already in London and my mum was taking me and my sister down on the train, so she was understandably stressed.

On he train, as we pulled into Crewe, I realised in the rush I'd forgotten to put my underpants on. I told my mum and she took me to the bathroom and pulled out a pair of orange y-fronts with white ribbing, I can see them in my mind so vividly. I felt much better with them on.

I've got other memories of early childhood, but the intricacy of that one, the sense of place, feeling, time, it makes it quite unusual for me.

[johnr]

When I left school I wanted to get a drumkit, a van to transport it in, and a flat to rent. My cousin worked for BT, he seemed 'sensible', so after a few tries I got a job there as an apprentice. The job was shit boring, and I spent five years (genuinely) becoming the 'worst apprentice I've ever come across' in the words of the Training Officer and earning a special mention in the POEU Annual report for misbehaviour; but the pay was OK, got me what I wanted - as well as a whole bunch of beer, vodka (and subsequent aspirins) to compensate.

So I ended up in intensive care with an internal haemorrage, was pulled back from death 3 times, and spent around 8 weeks in hospital. There was a particular moment, sitting in a bed as I was getting better, when the moment of clarity hit me - 'I should enjoy every day I have; I should make sure I take some steps to do things I like, and only those things; I will never ever do a job, even for one day, that I don't like again'. Since then, I haven't. That illness, and the clarity it gave me, did me the world of good.

[WOM]

My wife and I married got in Toronto and decided to have our reception on a boat and sail around Lake Ontario during the evening. My parents were there - I think it was the first time that they had ever travelled abroad together. Anyway, my mum was a simple woman, happiest when she was looking after her family. Not a big socialiser; few hobbies. So we're on the boat and the food was great and it's a beautiful evening. Toronto looks lovely from the lake and everyone is having a nice time. And I catch my mum's eye and ask her if she's enjoying herself and she just says, with a wistful look in her eyes, "It's magical!"

This is lovely. What year was that?

Also, I've had a couple of those magical moments myself. I find it mainly comes down to 'stepping back', being quiet, and totally being in that moment...as airy-fairy as that sounds.

[Nocturnal Submission]

It was 1997, WOM.

My parents were in their 70s at the time so the trip was a big deal, especially since my dad had only been out of the country once since returning from Berlin in a khaki uniform in 1945 (a short trip to the Netherlands) and my mum twice in her entire life. After the wedding they stayed at Niagara Falls and then drove up to Montreal with my sister. They had an amazing time and it well-nigh transformed their lives. Virtually as soon as they got home my dad started planning their next foreign trip and in the following 10 years or so they travelled all over Europe and North Africa.

[WOM]

Very nice. My folks were much the same way. Never left the continent once until they took their first cruise, then you couldn't get them to stay home.

[diggedy derek]

Steveeeeeeee, lovely contribution that.

[JVL]

Reading this thread made me think of one day in particular: going to watch Australia v. Croatia with Dad at the 2006 World Cup. Drove down to Ludwigsburg, parked up there, had a beer and then got the S-Bahn into Stuttgart. It was a lovely, sunny day and the atmosphere at the match was phenomenal, it was so loud at the final whistle that our ears were ringing in the stadium and it was a while before either of us said anything on the walk back to the train station. We didn't need to though, it had just been a cracking day, for me and for him and at that moment things just felt great. One of my favourite pictures of the old fella was taken on that day and I've still got the World Cup t-shirt he wore to the game, it was one of the things I couldn't bring myself to put on the charity shop pile after he died. Thinking back to the day makes me happy and tearful in equal measure, but it was great to spend the day together, to be in a position to invite him along to a World Cup match and to (without saying it directly) say thanks for all the times he took me to football when I was a kid.

[Sits]

What a lovely story.

That was the three yellow card match IIRC?