Hands
Until I become flexible enough to masturbate with my feet, anyway.
(reducedfatLOLcat, Fri 9 May 2008, 2:03, Reply)

Oh, gosh, I'm a cold fish!
It'd have to be all the paperwork & shit that proves I own the stuff I'd be claiming on the insurance were the flat to go up in smoke. The only thing that's important here is the cat (& quite frankly, she's a menace) and all my internet gubbins - as long as I can prove I am who I say I am, everything else is recoverable. Except possibly the really cool photo of my uncle getting his police helmet knocked off by his horse.
( Whodathunkit, Fri 9 May 2008, 1:42, Reply)

My grandfather's watch.....
The watch, thankfully, was NEVER up someone's posterior for the duration of an extended conflict, but did manage to survive WW2 service. I never knew my granddad (on my father's side) as he passed away before I came into this world, however; the treasured red box with the broken Rolex, cracked face and tatty leather strap will stay with me forever.

My grandmother, who I also never really had the time to get to know before she passed away, kept the watch and placed a newspaper clipping of my birth in the same case. A highly treasured link to my past which I would never consider leaving behind. I can see the box on the shelf now, and am thinking of the absolutely horrid Sunday dinners she used to make me endure at the age of 4. Beautiful.

Here is to family lost to the passage of time, only kept living by memories and keepsakes.

Length? The tears have reached the jawline.....

*edit* I really can't construct proper sentences with decent grammar after a night out. Oh well ;)
(Douglost, Fri 9 May 2008, 0:44, Reply)

My
Erm....

Hang on...

Hmmm


Oh yeah - Memory. Knew I had it somewhere!
(Suck it and Sea, Fri 9 May 2008, 0:42, Reply)

Condom
Split - I've got it pressed in a copy of Razzle to show my 6 yo son where he should have been!
(Suck it and Sea, Fri 9 May 2008, 0:40, Reply)

Teeth
Its the only way the saps in Blue will ever catch me!
(Suck it and Sea, Fri 9 May 2008, 0:37, Reply)

I would save
The photograph of my sister's wedding that has myself, my 2 brothers, obviously my sister and my late mother on.

I think it was probably the last time my family got together and were happy.

The last time we were all together was my mother's funeral and it wasn't so happy.

Some time shortly afterwards I found out what money grabbing bastards some of my family are.

I stole the photo from my sister who had decided that I wasn't worthy to keep it.

The old quotation about how you can choose your friends etc is very apt.
(bluetuba has a special friend in Blue Label Smirnoff, Fri 9 May 2008, 0:32, Reply)

My sanity
If I ever lost my sanity I would go completely insane!
(. ., Fri 9 May 2008, 0:21, Reply)

It's gotta be treasured...
The way your dad looked at it, this watch was your birthright. He'd be damned if any slopes gonna put their greasy yellow hands on his boy's birthright, so he hid it, in the one place he knew he could hide something: his ass. Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then when he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable piece of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little man, I give the watch to you.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Fri 9 May 2008, 0:07, Reply)

Let me set the scene...
It's a dark and cold January night, and indecisivephotobrother is off to his best friend's birthday party. His younger sisters are jealous, so to cheer them up, their parents take them to spend their £10 Christmas money. But there's only really one place open now, and that's Asda. Asda has a toy aisle, doesn't it? They'll find something they like there.

And so we did. Younger sister found a doll with some sort of flashy rubbish all over it, but the older of the pair takes a shine to a stuffed gorilla. That doesn't take up the whole £10, so she buys a pen as well, she likes writing. She names him Gus, after a similar toy gorilla at school.

That was 1996, and 12 years down the line, the pen was used up, chewed up, chucked out, years ago, but Gus is still sat on my bed behind me just waiting for a cuddle. His paws are a bit worn and his fur a bit faded but to me he's still as perfect as ever. Until recently, every time I'd stayed somewhere overnight, he's been there, and I still uphold that tradition whenever I can. He'd be the first thing I'd save from a fire; I'd rather die than let him burn. What would life be without something always there to snuggle?


Second would be my record collection, if I could actually fucking move the bastard heavy box it's in. And third would be my setlist from one of the Cribs' Christmas gigs (second album b-sides set), no explanation required.
(and now for someone completely different, Thu 8 May 2008, 23:30, Reply)

imallamallama junior
my most treasured posession

hangs

between

my legs

(except when its cold)
(imallamallama looking forward to llamageddon on, Thu 8 May 2008, 23:03, 1 reply)

The film "Heat" is oddly appropriate here;
Inasmuch as Mr De Niro himself reminds us that you should never get attached to anything you cannot walk out on in thirty seconds should you see "the heat" (ooh spooky).
Truth be told, Mrs Hatred is the only really important thing and given she is rather slinkier and more athletic than me, I am sure she will be fine without my hopeless attempts to rescue her. Likewise, the cat may look like an intriguing cross between an alloy wheel cleaning brush and a raccoon but I can't see her hanging around in the event of fire either. This leaves me to rescue me and in the event I had a moment to snatch something before immolation, I'd take my watch as;
a) It is by my bed- no plunging into pyres to get it.
b) It is both sentimental and practical- bought over a decade ago with my first real paycheck (it was nearly a decade old even then) and still keeps perfect time.

Everything else is a mere possession- I own them not the other way around. It can all go up in an interesting and lively fireball.

Of course now might be the time to mention that I'm well insured and the company allows the backup of personal files on one of its umpteen NAS drives. Besides being burned hurts.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Thu 8 May 2008, 23:00, Reply)

thing is
I've been in a fire (http://www.b3ta.com/questions/witness/post121599); two fires, if you count crashing my babywalker into one and melting a little bit when I was 8 months old.

What did I save? Myself. (And actually, with the babywalker crash my mum saved me - cheers ma.)
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 8 May 2008, 22:33, Reply)

My first fire drill
Sincere congratulations to those who manage to make their posts

a)interesting for other people.
b)amusing.

The odds seem stacked against it this week. Again.

I had the opportunity to demonstrate what I would save from a fire in my second week of primary school.
As a five year old, I, naturally, inhabited a blessedly safe and restricted universe. It was, however, the age at which incipient self-awareness first hints that a house-fire would bear small relation to the adventures of Fireman Sam.

It could kill your Mummy and Daddy.

And burn all your toys. Apocalypse.

For our first term at school we were permitted to bring one toy on fridays, for playtime. I habitually brought a white plush pussycat with dangly feet, given to me by my Gran.

With hindsight, I must have failed to take on board some of the more important details patiently explained by Mrs Twaddelle (really) relating to our upcoming first fire-DRILL. The alarm in that school sounded with an monotone

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

It made your eyeballs buzz very slightly. It was quite the most frightening noise I'd ever heard. I had never experienced anything so LOUD, so perfectly calculated to make your deepest monkey-brain flap loose in a senseless maelstrom of panic. My palms are sweating now when I think about it.

It went off as we were lining up to be walked, crocodile fashion, to morning assembly. Dumbfounded with terror, I snatched my fluffy cat off the toys and lunch-box table as were were hurried out. She would not burn.

No one noticed me clutching her until we were all lined up for a head-count on the playing field. The older girls tittered. Mrs Twaddelle's face thundered.

We were not returned to our classrooms but marched straight in to have assembly when the drill was completed. I was sternly pulled aside and throughly berated for flaunting the FIRST RULE OF SCHOOL FIRE DRILL:

YOU DON'T BRING ******ANYTHING***** WITH YOU.

Having brought shame on myself, my teacher and my class I was required to stand at the front of the hall, with the cat held in front of me. Primary one sat cross-legged in the first row. I had to stand and *turn around* to face the 300 little girls who were delighting in my first public humiliation*, my back to the teaches on the dais, while I sobbed uncontrollably.

School Motto: The Gateway to Knowledge is Humility.
I never forgot this.

I didn't expect this QOTW to be cathartic. Thank you for reading.

Afraid I can't even give you a 'boom-boom-chh' ending to this tale of infant woes. When I started a real fire in my student kitchen (microwave fish-cakes, don't bother) I couldn't get out at all, never mind bring anything with me. It seems we all underestimate the power of smoke to disorder and disorientate us. When my friend opened the door to the hall and rescued me I thought: Golly, I'm never going to neglect the smoke detector. I was lost in a 7 foot square room. True.


*Post scriptum: Actually not my *first* public humiliation, now that I think about it. Until that's the Question, I'm not telling.
(hahasnakes, Thu 8 May 2008, 22:32, 5 replies)

Ah, how could I have forgotten to mention this one?
Many years ago I rented a room from a couple who had a large house and no kids. The woman ran a flower business from her kitchen, so to help with my rent I sometimes helped her with deliveries and such.

One afternoon I accompanied her on a run. First stop was to get some supplies for a flower basket she was making for a bachelorette party, so we went to Taboo Lingerie where she selected an assortment of lubricants and toys, smiling lasciviously at me as she did so. Since my landlady was of rather heroic proportions (think of Roseanne plus all the weight Oprah lost and throw in at least one Backstreet Boy) and quite a few years my senior, I gipped a little- but as I knew what was coming, I continued along with her.

We drove out to the fairgrounds, past the animal displays (where I once again thought of my old lover at the racetrack with a certain shuddering arousal), and to the back of the stage where there had been a concert the night before. My palms were damp with anticipation.

I entered the trailer where, just the night before, had stood the one I worshiped from afar.

As I carried the flower arrangements and vases and other decorations to the van my nose kept detecting various scents. At last I entered the trailer alone and found the traces I was looking for- half a bottle of wine, a guitar pick, a crumpled napkin... and then I found the one thing I knew I must have.

Today it sits in a place of honor, a small monument to my own personal diety: the very razor used by Sting, with his stubble still in the blades.

Never shall we be parted...

(contains less than 10% fact)
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 8 May 2008, 22:17, Reply)

My pink panther theme tune CD
So there he is the pink panther
The rinky-dink panther
Have you ever seen a panther so pink
He really is a groovy cat
He's a gentleman
A scholar
He's an
Acrobat
So there he is the pink panther
The rinky-dink panther
and it's as plain as your nose
Hes the one and only truly original
panther pink panther
from head to toe
give it to me one more time
Cha

(Jazz hands to finish)
(magic the cat will someone please think of the kittens, Thu 8 May 2008, 22:04, 3 replies)

hmmm.......
This is a tricksy one isn't it?
Would it be my autographed Tom baker autobiography? or maybe my complete collection of Q mags from '93, Mojo's from 95, & DWM's from '96?

Would it be my CD collection? My DVD's? Blue (my anchient blue teddy bear whose as old as me)

would it be my clothes? my home insurance policy?

would it be my car keys?

or would I let the fire burn all the possesions that have taken over my life, taken over my space, and no longer define who I am but who stop me from being someone else?

in the end i would take one little photo, a picture taken by a kind tourist outside Sheffield city hall in November 1998, the day I graduated, it is the only picture I have of me, My Mum & dad (before they divorced) My Grandma and Grandad (before my Nan died) and my legendary ex girlfriend, it reminds me of happier times when everything was all about looking forward to the good times, and not sitting here 10 years later counting all the ways I fucked it all up.
(Lord Monkey of Yorkshire,OBE killed a gipsy on...., Thu 8 May 2008, 21:36, 1 reply)

Photographs
The one thing that I would rescue from a fire, no matter what, would be my 18th birthday present from my Grandma.
When I was little, our cellar flooded. And my parents, being the geniuses that they were, had all of my baby photographs stored down there. So, growing up, I never had any.
For my 18th Birthday, my Grandma presented me with a photograph album. There was a page for every year of my life, right from my birth, with a photograph of me from my birthday on it, and a newspaper article or cutting from that day. At the back of the album she'd glued in a huge envelope, in which she'd put all sorts of things-a copy of my GCSE results, programmes from school plays when I was a kid, clippings of me from our local paper. I've never cried so much as I did when I got that album.

Apologies for unfunny, but it's the only thing, apart from my family, I would go back for.
(The Who Bird is eating Jaffa Cakes on, Thu 8 May 2008, 21:34, Reply)

Musn't ask, not its business...
Yes, preciousss, they stole it from ussss!

And we wants it back!

No, no!

Yes, yes!

Filthy little thieves, into the fire they mussst go!

No!

Yes!

AAAAARGH!!!!!
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Thu 8 May 2008, 21:17, 5 replies)

what to save?
Nothing.
Nothing at all. seriously.

People occasionally say Im a cold cunt or too unemotional....dunno, I guess they are right.
I have nothing I couldnt walk out on.

2 years ago I moved from Scotland to France. I packed the boot of a peugeot 406 with stuff I would need, the rest of my stuff in scotland went on Freecycle, was given to family or binned.
Now that I am here, even the stuff I brought with me (clothes, bedding, a few papers, laptop etc) has no real value to me, financially or sentimentally. Financially, it could all be replaced for very little - ok the laptop is a few hundred, but my clothes come from the supermarket etc, I dont have a single really "valuable" item. emotionally - there are loads of photos on the laptop, but if they were lost, I wouldnt be too bothered. Sure, id be pissed off for a few hours, but....meh, its only pictures.
Every time I visit my parents, if I look in my room, its stuffed with shite from my childhhod and I wonder why it wasnt thrown out years back.
(dave likes cheese, Thu 8 May 2008, 21:15, Reply)

Used to be...
my photos, as they are my memories, but with todays technology I could recover those from my backup hard drive. So, I would have to say mine and Purple Gods childhood teddy bears- 1 a piece. Mine is called Pinky (what a surprise) and I have had him since I was 1, and Purple God's is called Horton (yes, he is posh isn't he!) and he has had him since he can remember too.
( randomwomanwholikespink, Thu 8 May 2008, 21:11, Reply)

Expensive hobbies and family
Dive Gear. One drysuit for the UK diving or similar temperatures, like the Galagopos lslands. One wetsuit 5mm suit for the Med/Canaries summer. One 3mm wetsuit for the Maldives or Mexico. Unfortuntaely all have different gear to with it.

Then there are the musical instruments.

One Yamaha Midi keyboard that plays all sounds, 3 types of piano, harpsichord, vibes, organ, voices. God knows what. Siblelius Software to write arrangements.

Tenor Saxophone. Alto Saxophone. And an A and B flat pair of Clarinets.

A classical guitar.

My voice, jazz, sing like Billie Holliday.

My daughter, who has just become a Doctor.

My Mother, who has just turned 70 and Daughter and I have bought her a trip to the Northern Lights in November and going with her.

Anything else ?

Priceless :-)
( Tiggy the diver, Thu 8 May 2008, 20:40, 2 replies)

I don't own anything...
The government owns me, and will continue to do so until I've paid my student loan. What a wonderful country.
(pygmy giraffe, Thu 8 May 2008, 20:37, 6 replies)

CHCB has done this one already
But I too would rescue my engagement ring.

It doesn't mean as much to me as the man who put it there, but he'd be quite cross if I lost it.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Thu 8 May 2008, 20:17, Reply)

Reading all these
makes me sad that so many people have so many things that they treasure. I don't really have anything that is of particular importance to me. I just don't get emotionally attached to stuff. Okay, I have some random bits that I like because they remind me of people who are/were close to me, but if I lost them I don't think I'd mind too much.
I'm always throwing things away. I never really buy myself anything and it kind of bothers me when people get me stuff as I know I won't appreciate it as much as I should.
On the other hand, I love DOING things. I know I may not be able to physically hold it forever but I guess it's the feelings I get and the memories I keep that are important to me. Especially when I'm spending time with my friends, I know it's these memories that I'm going to want with me when I'm old rather than any crappy object.
I'm hoping to make some more of these treasured memories soon actually as me and some friends are going road tripping again! Woo! So if any of you guys know of any good hostels/ other cheap sleeping places/ interesting sights in Britain, it would be cool if you could let me know!

If no-one hears from me again for a few weeks then you can safely assume that I was horrifically tortured and killed during my trip :) See ya x
( Mellicious is made of candy, Thu 8 May 2008, 20:16, 1 reply)