It would have to be a signed picture from The Arsenal Double Winning team of 1971
and one from Circa 1950 with a massive scrap book dating back to 1930

and the reason why (asides from being a Gooner) is how I came to own these.

Mr Williams was an old fella down my road, who continually looked out for me and my sister when we were playing in the street. a kind, tall genetleman, with a glass eye and white hair. A collection of canes, and tweed Jackets, he was a typical English gent. In his 80's, he died a few months back. Totally unexpected, he was a picture of health and stood for everything that was and still is right with this country.

An RAF pilot, he and his team were known as the Bryl Cream Boys for having their hair slicked back with gel and being a hit with the ladies. He shot down the Nazi's, and defended this country from the racial biggots wanting to invade us.

He was also one hell of a story teller making it seem like you were there, you could literally imagine scenes acting out infront of you. We would discuss at length the week's Arsenal games and the rest of the Premiership, what's happening at the club.

He would tell me in great detail of the games he saw starring players and managers from everyteam and games I have only read about (Charlie George, George Best, Pat Rice, Herbert Chapman). One of the greatest stories was The English World Cup win on 1966. The way he descibed the atmosphere of the game, the country, and the decade it was brilliant.

One day I came home from work. Mum told me he'd died. It was a weird feeling to know that someone i'd known my entire life had suddenly passed away. Sure i've gone through family deaths, one particularly traumatic, but this was a feeing of: Its unexpected, but he lived life to the full and have done stuff i'd only ever read about or would never even dream of doing.

We'd gone around to see his Wife that evening. In her this Newcastle accent she said "Oh chuck, i've gorrot summat for' ya'" and disappeared for a few mins. "Fred, he said he wanted you to have this" and produced a 6x4 grainey black and white photograph and a colour 8x6 photo. "He said you would want these, and he carrnt think of a better home for these, he said "

Those pics are framed in my room, and i'm going to leave them to my nephew.

Its not funny. I make no apologies.
(drain_bamaged, Fri 9 May 2008, 11:38, 2 replies)

One set of photographs
My wedding photos - not because I continue to have any great feelings for my ex - although he is the father of my children and fundamentally a good man.

But I'd want them because three very important people are in those pictures…


My Grandmother
A lovely old lady with whom I shared a passion for cooking, reading and gardening. When she was still with us the only thing we shared was our passion for reading…I have since discovered that the cooking and gardening gene skips a generation in my family.

Sadly she died four months after I was married and even in those photographs of the wedding day she looks frail.


My friend Stuart
Stuart was my ex's best friend, he was a fantastic guy, looked like a dark haired version of Steve McQueen.

He always had umpteen women constantly after him - the first time I met him I was reduced to uttering nonsense, something along the lines of 'wibble', simply because he was so good looking.
He also had the ability to make anyone laugh - mothers, grandmothers, babies, and all men just seemed to either want to be him or be with him. I'm sure a fair few must have hated him too though because he was such a great guy.

One of the things that was that part of his attraction was his huge addiction to adrenaline. If it was exciting and dangerous then he was there…power boat racing, canoeing and kayaking - he used to build his own, helicopter flying - he was a qualified pilot, and motorbiking.

The ex and I were married in the April, Stuart was killed two months later on Father's Day. It was a beautiful June Sunday, he'd gone out on his bike with a mate, he took a corner too fast and was killed almost instantly.

The night before we'd told him and his girlfriend that I was pregnant.

They had told us they'd just got engaged and would officially announce it the following day.


My dad
Yes, he's still with us, but three years ago (seven years after the wedding) he had a massive stroke. Aside from the wheelchair to which he is still confined, the person who he once was has gone.

Where once my dad would argue for hours about politics, current affairs or why people are so stupid these days now he's mostly compliant and easy going. He would read almost constantly and we shared many books yet for the past three years he hasn't read any thing more than the headlines on the newspaper.

I could go on and on about how the stroke has affected him - the losses he and we have suffered but as it is I can barely see through the tears.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 9 May 2008, 11:32, 6 replies)

Not much.
My cat, my wife and the wife's engagement ring. In that order.

I was going to say my wedding album as well, but that has a digital backup anyway, so could just be reprinted.

I might be tempted to grab my PS2 and memory cards, though.
(ScousersPet, Fri 9 May 2008, 11:24, Reply)

my diaries
because what if they survive the fire, are found and then read out?
there's too many entries along the lines of but i loooooooove her/why am i so faaaaaat/bad teenage poetry etc etc etc, to ever recover from their discovery.
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Fri 9 May 2008, 11:23, Reply)

A hair
Sad but true.

I was a shy and awkward 17-year-old. It was 1991. There was a girl called Veronica (not her real name) who I had a massive crush on. I just didn't have the guts to let her know my feelings or for that matter, even know how to express them. One day on the school bus, Veronica was sitting on the seat in front of me. After she got up, I noticed she'd shed a hair. Although she was a dark-haired Italian lass, she had dyed it a slightly reddish/brownish-tint. A thought occurred to me. Maybe I could keep the hair myself. If I could keep the hair, I'd at least have a part of her. So I took the hair and sandwiched it between some folded over sellotape. This sellotape-encased hair was kept in my coat pocket and went with me everywhere I went. When I had my moments of teenaged-crush driven despair, I would bring out the hair and touch it (there was a small loop that stuck out the side of the sellotape encased part). I had part of Veronica that I could touch. It would create a bond she never even knew existed.

At the end of my next year, I finished school. I still had not expressed my love to Veronica. I was about to start University, and decided that it was time to move on and make a break with the past. I chose not to take the hair with me. However, I could not remember what I did with it. For all I knew, such was my determination to make a break with the past that I may have even thrown it away in a nearby canal. I soon completely forgot about it until...

Fast forward to 2001. I was visiting my parents for Christmas. I decided to look through one of my old drawers. And for the first time in nearly 10 years, I saw the hair. There it was in all it's dyed sellotape-encased sticking out loop glory. While I had long since moved on from Veronica, the hair was a link to the past. It now represented part of me that I could make a connection to - a metaphor for a temporal bridge to a time when things were different. When I left my parents, I took the hair with me this time. The following Valentine's eve, I decided to write a poem to the woman I had a crush on at the time. In order to assist with getting in touch with my inner sanctum, I placed the hair on my computer-desk along with other 'sacred objects' (metaphors for my inner sanctum) and composed a masterpiece (see future QOTW answer for the outcome to that one).

As for Veronica, about 2 years before the advent of Friendsreunited, someone had set up a similar website that was only meant for my old school. At first, most of the people on it were recent graduates, but there in the guestbook, was a message by Veronica complete with an e-mail address. At the time, I had just started a new job and moved to a new town so had other things to think about but cut 'n pasted the e-mail address. It was nearly 2 months before I wrote her an e-mail (this was before the rediscovery of the hair). I decided not to mention the crush but just told her about the Inter-rail journey I had been on the previous summer (where I visited her home country). The e-mail itself was easy to compose, but even so, it felt as if my left mouse-button had a massive spring underneath it when the cursor was hovering over the 'send' button. The next day, amongst all the usual office-banter e-mails, there was a response from Veronica. She had found a new boyfriend, moved to Miami and even sent me a picture of herself (she looked pretty much the same as I remembered her). I sent her back a picture of my own. We had a 3-year on/off (mostly off) e-mail correspondence, and finally in 2002 when I made my trip to the States, we met up in New York, I got to meet Veronica in person. We had a lot to talk about and we talked a lot. As a testament to our catching-up, she briefly mentioned that she was living in New York on the day that the events of September 11th happened and that topic did not even spark off a conversational branch at all. We talked about the school bus, our times since graduation and out travel-experiences. She even told me she felt flattered that I even remembered who I was. What I didn't tell her was that I once had a crush on her. She already had a boyfriend at the time, and my mind was elsewhere at the time, so it would have just been inappropriate. I never told her about the hair.

_{In fact, when this QOTW came up, I decided to rummage through my 'things' and I once again saw the hair.}
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Fri 9 May 2008, 11:05, 6 replies)

Stuff
All of my material possessions - my TV, laptop, musical equipment... honestly it could all go up in flames tomorrow and I wouldn't mind one little bit.

Because I would get even better stuff with the insurance payout. Awooga!
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:57, Reply)

My most treasured possession
My penis.

Like many favourite possessions we've had our ups and downs. Still, it's always been there when I needed it, always cheers me up when I'm feeling a bit bored or fidgety. Likes to come out on a lash and helps me get laid. Tends to throw up a bit when pissed though.
( Udderbelly A tale of four titties, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:45, 2 replies)

Bit of a dilemma
The other halfs cooking: I dont treasure it, but I regularly rescue it from a fire.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:42, 3 replies)

Nearly, but not quite..........
This is an easy one for me as 7 years ago I was oh so nearly there................

I was living at our old address and I had been stretched out of the floor watching Peter Pan with my daughter for the umpteenth million time..... (she would have been about 4 at the time)

Old house with big rooms and 14 foot high ceilings.

The video had finished and I stood up.... my head disappeared into smoke, lots of it........

I grabbed what is still the most important thing in the world to me, I grabbed the bairn.

On our way out the front door (I didn't even ring 999 I just ran) we met the cavalry on the way in in the shape of Mrs DM who was just getting home from her back shift.

Basically I grabbed her as well and ran her back out the door and left her with the sprog in the garden whilst I shot back into the house, not to grab anything but to try and find out what the f was happening (I tend to be impulsive that way)....

A quick charge around and I knew the smoke was coming from the garden flat below the front half of my house.

So off I shot back out the door and straight down to Jessie's.

A quick look in her window confirmed my fears as the place was also thick with smoke.

I shot round and quite literally kicked her door in only to find the old coot sitting watching TV totally oblivious to the smoke barely 6 inches above her head.

Turns out she had made herself a cup of tea earlier and had used a dishcloth to lift the old tin kettle of the gas cooker, the dishcloth had caught fire and rather than throwing it in the sink and dousing it, she admitted to "flapping" it about till it went out (which it hadn't).

She then hung the thing up on the back of the kitchen door and went back to the telly.

The dishcloth had clearly caught again along with the paint on the door and this had dripped onto the carpet which was also starting to go up

As I had what must have looked like a Beatlejuice moment as I stamped the fire out and threw water over the door she continued to sit and watch telly.............

So I know for sure that all I'd go back for is family or friends (even when they are dited old gits)......

They are the one thing that can't ever be replaced...........
(Dark Matter All The Wonders In The World & We Invent Boredom, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:32, Reply)

Box of Photos
Not funny, clever or anything, just sentimental value. I have a really bad memory and so photos help me remember good times.

Of course (as for most people) most of my photos are now on my computer. I wonder how many of us who have such vital info stored in such a way have it backed up? Only half of mine are.
( e.m.m.y. foxtrot uniform charlie kilo india tango, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:30, 3 replies)

My scissors
I seem to constantly be looking for them, so they must mean something to me...

Edit: ditto for blu-tack. What did I do with that?
(LongJohnBaldry, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:26, Reply)

hmmm..maybe the discs with photo's I have taken..
That or the fire extinguisher.
(TheRiddler Hmmmmm... I concur., Fri 9 May 2008, 10:18, Reply)

my compass and my maps -
I'd be lost without them.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:06, 7 replies)

two things-
years ago after washing out of college I lived with a nice girl who gave me a guitar she had living in the closet, which later I wore on my back (and occasionally played) whilst hitchhiking across the North American continent. This instrument later burnt in a fire on the house in which I was living with a sort of surrogate family. I was able to recover the burnt pieces of the guitar and later performed a ceremony which involved burning the rest of the pieces in a campfire in the hills of the desert of central Washington State (USA) and consecrating the recovered truss rod to the best of my ability.
A few years later the mother of this family gave me another classical guitar for a Christmas present. I still have this guitar, and the cleaned and polished truss rod from the older one. Mom's gone now, she died in November of 2006 but I shan't forget her as long as I live- and as long as I can keep this guitar alive, I have a way to honor her memory in my life.
(douchebarge, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:06, 1 reply)

Folios
The night before I have a folio due in, I would do anything to save it so I could hand it in.

I'm sure the uni would accept fire as a reason for not handing it in, but I would be destroyed if they got damaged.
(PenguinOfDeath is Scottish, and most likely angry, Fri 9 May 2008, 10:02, 9 replies)

My self esteem
It`s definitely not fireproof.
(tootired Is searching for a funny sig, nothing good so far, Fri 9 May 2008, 9:51, Reply)

My computer
Sadly enough.

All the of the very few valuable possessions are at my parents' house. I have no kids/pets, don't really do photos and don't live with my girlfriend.

My computer was the first significant thing I bought once I'd left uni and got an 'adult' job. At £1.1k it's also the most expensive individual object I've ever bought.

Plus it's got all my porn on it.


Other than that it'd be the ticket voucher for my holiday in Cambodia later this year.


I'm not really that sentimental - can you tell?
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 9 May 2008, 9:48, Reply)

I'd save
My pets.

Cats could look after themselves, they'd be out of the house before you are.

I don't have cats though.

I've got a lizard, a tortoise and a bunch of insects.

The lizard would come with me, nothing would stop that. She's fantastic, as lame as it sounds she's like a little friend. Except she doesn't talk. Or have feelings. *shrugs*
The tortoise would be easy to shove in a pocket, she's about the size of a large apple.

The insects can burn, fuck 'em.
( Cawl, Fri 9 May 2008, 9:48, 13 replies)

My dad's motorbike
My dad built a motorbike from scratch, last year he died and left it to me in his will. It's amazing.



The frame is based on a loop of tube from
Mole Valley Farmers sheep rack range of products, plus other bits -
the geometry is based loosely on Sammy
Miller's works Ariel bike from the museum. He threw my dad out of his museum when he caught him doing a bit of espionage with a tape
measure.

Things get more interesting when you look at the engine. It is a 498cc four stroke based on 1955 Ariel Red Hunter crankcases with steel
flywheels which don't explode at high revs unlike the cast iron road bike versions. It's got a 85mm stroke and Triumph high capacity oil
pump instead of pathetic Ariel version which wouldn't fill the cistern in a doll's house loo. That last part is a direct quote from my dad.

A home ground trials type camshaft (with gentle valve opening) to give good low speed torque is combined with a Piston is from a Toyota car
engine, much machined, which cost about £20 instead of the £90 odd for a proper bike one. The Barrel is from a Lister stationary diesel
engine - my dad smashed the fins off, cleaned it up in the lathe, got a foundry to pour aluminium around it and machined the fins on, plus the recess for the cylinder head.

It would be a great bike to escape to Switzerland on, except it would make the jump.
(NSFW, Fri 9 May 2008, 9:41, 4 replies)

The kids
Probably the kids. And by the kids I mean the 4 PG tips/ITV digital monkeys, the 3 flat erics, 2 bagpuss mice, Oscar the reindeer, Gerthard Wurms, Clanger, Yamas the bear, Marvin Monkey, the 2 Johns (polar bears)...

Hope I've not forgotten anyone.
(finbarr, Fri 9 May 2008, 9:41, Reply)

The only music I'd save....
My LP of Setting Sons by The Jam. First album I ever bought myself when I was about 14. It's scratched to fuck but I would never part with it. I used to open all the windows in the house and play it really loud when I was alone. I fancied the older boy next door and also used to put it on when he was around so I would look cool. Didn't work though : (


Oh and maybe my original 12" of Grandmaster Flash and the furious five's The Message.
( girlinthehole, Fri 9 May 2008, 9:30, 2 replies)

photos
i would save my photo box with all my pic's from my past in.I had a flood last year and some got ruined.Most of my family aren't close to where I live,so it's great to get the pic's out once in a while and look back on the happy times.
(VodkaCoke, Fri 9 May 2008, 8:56, Reply)

Can't think of much...

...I'd rush in to save from a fire...except perhaps, my treasured and valuable collection of fire extinguishers and smoke alarms. Oh, and my collection of still-functioning, if somewhat ropey electrical appliances from the early 1960s.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 9 May 2008, 8:52, Reply)

I suppose it depends where you are...
If I was at my parent's place I'd save my mum's computer.

She's wheelchair bound from time to time and he passion is photography and geniology (sp) - tracing our family tree back to roots.

She has spent ages doing this, and has it all on her computer.... loosing it and all her photos would be a terrible blow. ....

After that I reckon it'd be my Dad's photo of his Dad. They never knew each other (Died of TB when Dad was 2 months), but Dad has always tried to follow in his footsteps. The only photo of him that he has is on the wall in the hallway. Flannel shirt and britches with hobnail boots, standing jauntily on a completely knife-edged mountain ridge somewhere in the Swiss Alps. He's also smoking a pipe, and has a 3-ply twisted rope over his shoulder. Both of these things are hung over the photo, and they represent the father my dad never had. I'd get them if I had the presence of mind.

Next on the list would be the paintings. Hung in one room of the house are a pair of painting that look at each other. These have been hung in the house of the eldest surviving family member since the early 1800's. They're apparently my great great great great great grandparents.

The portraits are nothing special to me, but my mum would cry buckets if they were ever to go. they're also worth a small fortune. One of them is a self-portrait, and the artist's poorer work now sells for very high 5-figure sums. When they recently had them valued the valuer nearly wet himself.. It was previously unknown that a self-portrait existed, and paired with a portrait of his wife we're talking ridiculous money.

Next up I'd be seen wheeling Dad's Oxy-Acetylene welding gear out of the adjoining garage: Can't be too careful.

I'd probably then be seen leading their neighbour's dog into the house.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 9 May 2008, 7:46, Reply)

A beautiful aquamarine ring and earring set.
I was graduating from school, and my parents threw a small party for relatives and close friends. After all the gifts had been opened and cake had been eaten, an old family friend, a frail old spinster whom I loved dearly, pulled me to the side.

"I have something for you", she said, and handed me an ancient Kodak film container, so old that it was made of melamine and screwed together. I opened it up, and nestled in a small square of yellow flannel was a beautiful pair of earrings and a matching ring. "I want you to have this", she continued. "When I was your age, I had a sweetheart. He was very special to me, and once, on a trip to Brazil, he brought these home to me." Knowing, as I did, that she'd never married, I waited for her to finish. "He went overseas during World War Two, and...he never came back. I had another friend who had thought that she had lost her sweetheart, so she married another, and after the war, it turned out that her first love had been in a POW camp. I will never forget the look of disappointment on his face when he found out, so I waited, because I wouldn't have been able to bear if my sweetheart had come home to find out I was with another man. He never did come home. But I want you to have these, I never could wear them, but I think they will look lovely on you."

And that is my most treasured possession, those earrings, that ring, and that story. I will wear this jewelry on my wedding day. To this day, I can't believe that I was given something so amazingly precious, and I will never forget that someone loved me enough to share that with me.
(herbivorous, Fri 9 May 2008, 6:40, Reply)

Never, ever
go back into the flames for the cat. It left of its own accord shortly after the fire started and is now sitting outside wondering why you haven't turned up with its dinner.
(lazy killer robot found that beer tastes better when your older, Fri 9 May 2008, 5:28, 2 replies)

Not funny....but
My most treasured posession is my World Trade Center ID badge.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Fri 9 May 2008, 4:57, 1 reply)

My Cosmic Blue 1983 Suzuki GS850G
I've had my hands on every last nut, bolt, and bit of this bike over the last ten years, and it runs and handles better than new. It'll turn 100,000 miles sometime in July, I think.

I've had the best experiences of my life on this bike. The best clothed ones, anyway.



The cats and my wife will easily fend for themsleves, and the other Suzuki, the cars, and my tools can all burn. But my GS850 is irreplacable.
(towelsoaker, Fri 9 May 2008, 4:21, 2 replies)

Thanks to my husband
I have a large box full of family recipes that dates from the 1970s back to the early 1900s.

The spouse braved the cave of treasures that was my grandmother's attic to locate it and I'm so grateful.

I don't have my great-grandmother, great-aunt or grandmother anymore, but with a recipe from that box and a little time in the kitchen, I can recreate so many memories from when we were all a family.
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Fri 9 May 2008, 3:47, 1 reply)

My most treasured posession
is my guitar:

simonandpatrick.com/showcasecwflamemaple.htm

It sings like a bird and will earn me money after the fire I will save it from. Not to mention I had to go into debt just to get it...

As for my PC, it can burn like the dog it is. IT is over-rated and like with an answer from last week's QOTW I am absolutely sick of doing work for free. Face it people, I am worth $150 an hour and I have bills.

Length? 1 metre of flame maple lovin...
(satellite blows, Fri 9 May 2008, 2:58, Reply)