The pictures of the Gruffalo are very reminiscent of the monsters in Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are.
Interesting, that sounds a lot more like the Makro superstore I heard people went to. The supermarket I recall had low ceilings, was huge, modern (for the time) and brightly lit
Do you still have the brass goblets? Do you remember any more details?
No sadly not. They were placed in a recess where a very old wine bottle might have a glass seal, on the shoulder of the bottle I suppose. There may have been some sort of cork plug in the recess, and the goblets were pressed into that. I recall, eager little fingers could prize them out for easily From memory the goblets were only 15 mm - 20 mm high.
The mid 1970s. The bottles may have been wine or possibly sherry? In my mind’s eye the bottles are black, so likely a dark red drink of some sort.
Could this have been Bull's Blood wine? I used to buy that in the '70s because of the little goblets. They were wedged into a round wooden panel that was set into the bottle above the label.
Aha! That sounds exactly right, yes. Wow, my memory was not faulty after all, even down to the recollection of the little wooden insert that they were fitted into. Thank you very much!
My work here is done.
Yes I did a quick Google scan and couldn’t find it. Seems there is “Bull’s Blood” Hungarian wine (very 1970s) and “Torres Sangre de Toro” which sometimes has a little black plastic bull attached to it nowadays.My work here is done.
Sadly though I can't find an image online. There was a dramatic TV advert for it but that's not on YouTube as far as I can see.
However, I've messaged the relation who has the goblets and hope to hear back.
Little plastic bull, pah. We want our brass goblet.
Hehe! Yes indeed the brass goblets were the business. The plastic bull is more like a Christmas cracker toyLittle plastic bull, pah. We want our brass goblet.
“Bull’s Blood” Hungarian wine (very 1970s) - the very beast.
We thought we were terribly sophisticated. I tried hard to find the blood-savour in the wine as I did actually believe it was supposed to taste like blood. I failed miserably, not surprisingly.
Some kid will choke on one of those plastic bulls.
Ha! Good point!Some kid will choke on one of those plastic bulls.
People collect them! You can buy a set on eBay.
Actually, I'm surprised adults choked on the miniature brass goblet.
Surely EVERYBODY was drunkenly tempted to pour some wine in one and drink it?
Just me then.
I remember drinking Bulls Blood wine in the late 90s (although in a standard bottle).
I once got so drunk on it I slid off the sofa and landed on the open fire, and had to go to hospital.
Potent stuff! No wonder they gave away the little goblets, perhaps that was the recommended measure?I once got so drunk on it I slid off the sofa and landed on the open fire, and had to go to hospital.
"Bulls Blood" was my go to wine in student days (73 - 76), it was relatively cheap and fairly robust (I don't have a subtle palate) I must have missed the little goblets promotion. Not so much hangovers on it, more a general overall ache and feeling like you were on another planet.Little plastic bull, pah. We want our brass goblet.
“Bull’s Blood” Hungarian wine (very 1970s) - the very beast.
We thought we were terribly sophisticated. I tried hard to find the blood-savour in the wine as I did actually believe it was supposed to taste like blood. I failed miserably, not surprisingly.
I was making an assumption it was a 70s toilet because my parents moved into that house in the beginning of that decade, before any of us kids were born, and heavily overhauled the place, but it's certainly possible it was an earlier model. Still, that diagram is giving tingles of familiarity, and a couple of possibilities have occurred as a result.I am a bit confused by your description as 1970s toilets were almost always the old ballcock and siphon type , as below, and certainly contained no "sharp, unguarded metal rods" as such. The cisterns were made for ordinary people to maintain and replace bits if necessary so not really many sharp metal bits, unless parts had corroded and snapped, and then the toilet would not function.
I remember that if the handle was broken then you'd have to reach into the cistern and slightly lift the arm that connected the handle to the rest of the gubbins - the bit called 'trip lever' on this diagram below - and the flush would engage.
I think that maybe your Mum might be right for your memory #3
I've been spending a lot of time with my head in a cistern lately (it's an old toilet, but with a high level flush rather than low level, so it might be different). There's nothing narrow enough to impale a finger, most of the workings are quite thick and robust, the only wire that you could impale yourself on is where the handle attaches through the loop to hold it on. In my toilet, at least. And it's fairly innocuous, it would be less of an 'impale' and more of a 'sticking your finger with a bit of wire'. Is there any chance that you might, in your nighttime panic, have seen some blood and built the case up in your mind into being a bit more of a drastic incident than it was?I was making an assumption it was a 70s toilet because my parents moved into that house in the beginning of that decade, before any of us kids were born, and heavily overhauled the place, but it's certainly possible it was an earlier model. Still, that diagram is giving tingles of familiarity, and a couple of possibilities have occurred as a result.
One: a broken lift rod was what I impaled my finger on. Two, much more likely: a breakage that necessitated reaching inside to activate the flush, amongst all those moving parts, engendered enough anxiety in sensitive little me it resulted in a vivid nightmare that's stuck with me, and over time natural conflation of memories has blended it all together.
Thanks for the input and info.
A good chance. Anxiety has been a lifelong problem, and only relatively recently have I grasped enough of its mechanisms to even start to live with it. As a kid, escalation was highly likely; after all, you're talking about someone who'd hide under tables when things got too much for him.
A possibility I've been considering for a long time. Dad, to this day, prefers to do as much himself as possible, and temp fixes that end up lasting way longer than intended were not uncommmon. Also, both parents have difficulties with taking responsibility for their words and actions, Mum especially. These are prime reasons I've never been entirely able to dismiss the memory as false.
