this post was submitted on 23 Oct 2024
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Well we had it tough. We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o’clock at night, and LICK the road clean with our tongues. We had half a handful of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at the mill for fourpence every six years, and when we got home, our Dad would slice us in two with a bread knife.
I had to roll a boulder to the top of a mountain each day. And at the top, my liver would get eaten by an eagle. Afterwards the boulder would roll down and I had to start my work all over again.
But what do I know, I only see shadows on a cave wall.
luxury!
You try telling that to the young people today, and they won't believe you!
Wow, you were lucky! I grew up only knowing one type of knife because that's all my dad could afford. Imagine growing up in a house where the whole family had to share one knife for both bread and poop!