It's...... melting
My most treasured possession is a slightly antiquated tuba, but I have a feeling that whilst a fire would knacker the outside, it'd basically survive all but the fiercest of infernos.

Then there's my degree certificate, but frankly, like most people on this board, I could knock out a decent forgery in 20 minutes. Or something that looked more convincing than the original in 10.

I think in all honesty, the only thing I need to save from a fiery end is my soul, and that's beyond salvage by this point...
( prince-igor si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses, Tue 13 May 2008, 16:24, Reply)

Hmmmm
The key to my fireproof safe.
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Tue 13 May 2008, 16:21, Reply)

I've pondered on this one... long and hard (fnarr)
And I've finally made my mind up:

My recently acquired external hard drive will be the first thing I grab (thanks QOTW people for fuelling my paranoia enough to combat my laziness; I know it's a purchase I won't regret).

But what about my other hand? Surely it should be put to more use than simply pushing doors open?

My bass? It certainly isn't anything special; bottom of the range Ibanez. Although fantastic to play, even with my stumpy fingers, it is very replaceable.

My guitar? Sentimental value is quite high, given to me as it was by my Dad about 15 years ago. But it's not brilliant and anyway, I'm rubbish at playing guitar.

My vinyl? Definitely not all of it. My record collection is largely made up of old Drum & Bass, Techno, Hip-Hop and other guff from the heady, youthful and altogether naive days when I thought I might become a DJ. But alongside that I have some great and rare records that I'd hate to lose.

Almost forgot this one: my speakers. They are absolutely amazing studio quality monitors that I obtained through a friend who worked for their manufacturer. During his time under their employ he would occasionally secrete bits of speaker about his person at home time, then managed to rescue some slightly scratched cabinets from the 'not perfect enough to be used' pile (they are very posh speakers) and made himself a couple of pairs, as well as being generous enough to make a pair for me, too. They are fucking ace and definitely irreplaceable!

So should my house burn down and I was around to rescue things; I'd be seen stumbling out the door with a disk drive in one hand, a small selection of vinyl in the other and a speaker under each arm. I'm sure there would be an amp bouncing along in my wake as well, due to me being too cowardly to spend time disconnecting it from the speakers.
( Moey, Tue 13 May 2008, 15:47, 1 reply)

The token serious post
In the event of a house fire, I'd save my cello. Although it's not technically mine, it's worth over three times more than everything else I own put together and has immeasurable sentimental value. But the thing I would have saved, if it still existed, was snatched away from me.

My parents hate each other. There's nothing too unusual about that in itself. My mother however has taken it upon herself to hate unreservedly my father's entire family. Mum and I have always had rather a strange relationship. She never bonded with me when I was a baby (hey, sometimes it just doesn't happen) and as soon as things started going wrong with Dad, suddenly I was the devil-child who shared 50% of his genes. My childhood was filled with screams of, "You're just like your father". So really, I felt absolutely nothing towards my mother other than a pathetically desperate desire to please her, which I knew even then that I would never manage.

The one person who I did bond with as a child was my cousin. She fell in love with me the moment she saw me, and I can't remember a single moment of my life when I haven't completely adored her. When I was a child, it was hero-worshipping admiration, and feeling safe and loved with her in the manner in which I guess most kids feel about their parents. These days, if anyone hurt her I'd break their legs.

Mum hated her. Obviously she hated her because she was related to my dad, but there was also the thorny issue of her having such a good relationship with me. She ended up, through various means I won't go into here, ensuring that we would never see each other for a very long time. Until last year in fact, thanks to the wonders of facebook. So, having not seen each other in 15 years we were swapping life stories and photos and blubbing in front of our respective computers like little girls. Then one day her husband messaged me to say that all of her childhood photos had been lost, and so if I had any at all, it would mean the world to them if I could scan them. "No problem!" said I, for I knew that there were loads of photos of all my cousins in a big box in my mother's living room. It wasn't just photos of my cousins - it was a massive collection of photographs of the whole extended family, some of them 100 years old. They'd come from my grandmother's house. My grandmother's house, which Mum had helped sort out after her death.

I wasn't that concerned when I couldn't find the box of photographs - I just assumed Mum had moved them to a safer place, or perhaps put them in an album. So I asked her, "Mum, you know that big box of photos that came from Grandma's house, the one with her parents' wedding photos and everything? Where is it?"

"Oh, I threw them away."
"WHAT???"
"They smelled funny."

That box of photos would definitely have been what I would have rescued from a house fire, but instead it was maliciously thrown away by a bitter, twisted old bitch as a last insult to a family only one of whom had ever done her any wrong. Thanks to one petty act of vindictiveness, my cousin has only the five childhood photos that I had myself. I don't care how funny they smelled - they were five generations of family history. I wonder how good it felt to her, consigning them to the dustbin. Surely not comparable to the hurt she's caused. She has robbed my beloved cousin of her childhood photos, and for that I may just have to break her legs.

Well, not really. But sometimes I am sorely tempted.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 13 May 2008, 15:45, 13 replies)

I am seriously bored this afternoon so........
I was once given a watch by me then girly. Now it was not a bad watch, in fact as watches go, it was very nice. She even had a lovely little (and very private) message engraved on the back.

But.

I cant wear watches. My arms are covered in hair which gets caught in the metal bracelet and all I do all day is slowly pluck my left wrist smooth.

Which comes to the over problem. My wrists have the circumference of a bic biro. This allows the watch to slide up and down and pluck more hair at will - even though I had the bracelet set to the smallest setting.

And finally – as I have small wrist I look just plain fucking stupid with them on (unless they are child like flic flaks).

The thing is, I know she saved a long time to buy the watch and I truly appreciated the gesture (and loved the engraving) and so even though I hated the bloody thing and its arm-hair-ripping antics – I wore it every day for two years.

It was then stolen out of my hotel room.

The insurance paid towards my Harley

I love that unconditionally.

So it was a treasured possession that I completely hated. If such a thing is possible..
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Tue 13 May 2008, 15:28, 6 replies)

One solitary piece of A4 paper...
Short but sweet:

My degree cerificate. OK, in real life it's earned me precisely naff all (serves me right for doing an arts degree I s'pose)- but dammit I paid a lot of money for that piece of A4! :)

On a serious note - I truly hope that I have a profound enough effect on this world (or even just one person's life) that, in many years, someone will consider something associated with me worth saving from the fire. Self-absorbed, yes - but don't we all want to be remembered in a positive light?
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Tue 13 May 2008, 15:08, 17 replies)

Just Two things
A stuffed Octopus cushion, he's about 18" across with foot long legs, and was my third birthday present from my mum.

that and a mug she brought and packed for me in Christmas paper in April, then she died from a massive heart attack a few months later. My father found them in with the Christmas decorations. and there were a lot of tears that year while we all unwrapped them.
(ceebs, Tue 13 May 2008, 14:48, Reply)

Books!
I have a large collection of Jack Vance books that would be nearly impossible to replace, including his really obscure murder mysteries.

I'd grab those before I bothered with my guitars.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 13 May 2008, 14:35, 6 replies)

My Guitar: 70's Ibanez Concorde Acoustic
Love it!

My ex gave it to me when we went our different ways.

Beautiful sound, even more beautiful looks.

Tried to get it valued....no-one has been able to put a price on it yet.

If anyone knows how much it's worth Gaz me.

Edit linky, not mine but my one is the same: www.williebuchan.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/ibanezconcord.jpg
( diablo290582 Professional.....something., Tue 13 May 2008, 13:34, 5 replies)

What I'd leave behind...
This is not so much a story of the most treasured possessions I'd save, it's about what I'd leave behind.

Being the type to always consider worst case 'it's all going to go very wrong' scenarios, whilst staying in a pokey hotel in Paris recently I had to ponder on the very real matter that if there was a fire, I would definitely burn or die of smoke inhalation.

There were no fire exits to speak of, except for at the bottom of the only flight of stairs in the building (otherwise known as the front door), and my room had tiny windows with bars on the outside that an anorexic cat would have problems slinking through.

So on the two sleepless nights I spent in our room (that you also couldn't swing an anorexic cat in - Hotel du Londres incase you need a place to avoid when visiting gay Paree), I started wondering if even at the tender age of 23, I should write a will if at some point one of my paranoid ponderings actuated itself.

So, the things I would leave to people (more in the way of instructions):

- A story written by my Grandma when I was a tot, about a family of rabbits (who coincidentally featured a Betty Lou - I couldn't believe the chances of that). The rabbits were terrorised in their homes and were forced to dig their way to freedom elsewhere - it was a fusion of 'The Animals of Farthing Wood' and 'The Fantastic Mr Fox' and I truly believe it should be published - this I would instruct should I never get around to it myself.

- A work of art I produced when I was 18 for my A Levels. It's a diptych, featuring a jungle scene and it measures about 2 metres wide by 1 metre in length. My parents have been slyly trying to get rid of it since I left home six years ago. I'd insist I was remembered through its display on their lounge wall for all to see, everyday. That'll teach them to turn my bedroom into a sports therapy clinic/home gym as soon as I arrived at uni, leaving me to kip in my brother's old cabin bed on home visits.

- Every present I've ever received from my best friend would be returned to her. I love her deeply, I've known her since birth so she's more of a sister to me. And yet every year, without fail, she'd give me something horrendously ugly as a birthday or christmas present and seemingly have no idea it's not really my type of thing. She knows we're like chalk and cheese yet still buys things she likes, for me. I, in return, try my best to find things she likes and sometimes I do get it wrong, but I'll give her the receipt and she'll unashamedly exchange it. Bah.

*First post so be nice.
(BettyLou, Tue 13 May 2008, 13:23, 1 reply)

1st edition signed
I have a pretty much complete collection of all the books by:

Douglas Coupland
Bret Easton Ellis
William Gibson

All 1sts, all signed. All mint. All my favourite authors.

Although not really sure what to do with them. They're in nicely sealed storage. One day.. ebay. No idea what they're worth, maybe someone knows, knowing my luck, fuck all.

But it took me a long time, so along with my art theft spoils, they are my most treasured possessions. How dull.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Tue 13 May 2008, 13:10, 6 replies)

Form a queue please ladies
Apart from my wonderful two children from my long expired second marriage, my most treasured possession I have, having just past my 50th Birthday, is the memory of all the lovely ladies who, over the years I have serviced and pleasured. Wives friends, friends of friends, work colleagues, casual aquaintences. Having difficulty going to sleep at night, or just having a few minutes during the day, letting my mind wander, thinking through the list always brings a smile.
PS, to all my male pals over the years who told me I was "out of order " for carrying on in such a fashion, Bollocks, and I bet you wish you had done the same !!!!!
These wonderful carnal memories are something nothing can take away !!!
(Betty Boothroyd's Love custard Tourettes at the KOB, Tue 13 May 2008, 13:06, 5 replies)

Seriously though
Here are some things I have owned but since lost or forgotten as I've moved from place to place. Who knows where they are now.

- Letters written to me by famous authors in reply to my fan letters. I had handwritten notes from Elmore Leonard (Get Shorty, Jackie Brown), Clive Cussler (Raise the Titanic) and David Morrell (First Blood).
- A first edition of The Man with the Golden Gun.
- A Sheffield-made palette knife that was a piece of art.
- Half a bottle of 18-year-old Strathisla single malt whisky.
- A cassette of a uni housemate drunkenly admitting to paedophile fantasies (he's a teacher now).
- Numerous stories that I wrote on a manual typewriter in pre-internet days. I remember that one of them was about a sex maniac squirrel.
- A Raleigh hybrid bike that went like a dream.
- Numerous nudey pictures of exes.
(frankspencer, Tue 13 May 2008, 12:07, 11 replies)

Musical instruments
These are really the only possessions that matter to me. My old yamaha guitar, bought when I was 18 & played to death, my new guitar (present from TC), cello (bought with money left to me by my grandmother), 5 string bass (found in a junk shop), french horn (sat forlornly in a charity shop window) and my vintage melody C sax (in need of a mouthpiece) as well as a collection of penny whistles and recorders and a flute with the end missing. I seem to have a thing about orphaned instruments. That's a lot of trips in and out of a burning house, now I think about it.
(misspiggy In danger of having to get a job, Tue 13 May 2008, 11:42, Reply)

miraculous escaping corn snake
This is probably a good place to tell you about my amazing snake.

About 5 years ago a friend was getting rid of his corn snake. As I've always wanted a snake I asked for him, and Huzzah! I became the happy keeper of a beautiful corn snake. He had a small scar from when My friend had lost him and found him with the hoover, but was lovely looking and having been brought up in a house with very small children was very tolerant.

A year or so later, we had to move house, and couldn't find a new one before we had to move out of the old one, so we went to stay with some people we knew,and put most of our stuff in storage. Three days after we got there, we returned to their house to discover smoke pouring out from under the floorboards in the living room. After wandering about for a bit trying to work out what was going on, we open the hall door to go upstairs and met with a wall of smoke. yup, their bloody house was on fire. We later found out the floor had collapsed over where we were wandering around shortly after we got out. Hurrah for not dying!

Among our clothes and other replaceable essentials, my snake was upstairs in his tank in our bedroom. the fire was upstairs. Arse. Not much I could do about it though.

After a few hours of worrying that the fire was our fault (it wasn't - woo!) and watching the firemen go in and out, the fire was vanquished. One of the firemen (in full kit) was nearly killed by the backdraft when he opened the door into our friends bedroom where the fire had been caused by a dodgy electrical socket sparking. The heat had been so intense it melted all her jewellery and stuff. My snake was in the next room. Again, arse.

Then a nice firelady asked whose the snake was. Sadly, I said he was mine, expecting to be shown a blackened crispy dead thing. She said she didn't really understand why, but he was OK. He was a bit brown and sticky (like a stick!) from the smoke, but he was otherwise fine. Still, 4 years on, when he sheds his skin (more often than he used to) there's always a brown smudge along the top of it. For a couple of days afterwards he was quite sluggish, so my guess is that he slowed down his breathing or some other reptilian trickery. I dunno.

2 years later he escaped. He had been prowling around his tank looking for a mate, refusing to eat anything for a few months, when he managed to prise the lid open and get out. The front door happened to be open, and he was gone by the time we realised. Arse!

A whole year later, I was coming in from the garden, when there he was! My wife came running because I bellowed 'SHIT!" so loudly she thought I was hurt. When she saw me with Rusty around my neck she was speechless. I should probably mention here that we live in the North Cornish countryside, in England. He'd survived a whole year, including a fairly harsh British winter. There were feathers in his poo, so he'd definately been hunting, etc. There had been an unconfirmed sighting of a corn snake over a mile away from us while he was gone. I like to think that was him. Now after another escape scare (kids left tank lid off, he got out but was under my daughters bed) he's curled up in his tank in my office.

So huzzah for my amazing cornsnake - he's survived fire, the English countryside, vacuum cleaners and small children.

Length? about 5ft now!
(teasus likes tea, Tue 13 May 2008, 10:52, 9 replies)

Hmmm - Difficult
If it was only the one thing I could save it would have to be my trusty digital camera and kit.
I have an old and battered, well used and sorely abused Nikon D70 that has been absolutely everywhere with me, Thailand, Australia, New Zealand, Crete, Venice, Paris, Florence, Prague - you get the idea.
It's been pretty much an extension of my right hand for about 4 years now and at this point I couldn't be without it.
I could ill afford it when I bought it and I broke my plums saving up to pay for it, the camera along with 3 decent lenses, SB600 flashgun, tripod and all of the associated paraphernalia that goes with it - External Hdd, associated chargers & spare batteries and a half decent padded rucksack to stuff the whole kit and kaboodle into. So I'd definitely have to grab that lot and my picture backups before I ran out the door. If nothing else to take pictures of the fire!

*Then I'd see if the wife got out ok - obviously...

1st post - be gentle!
(uk_viper stopped lurking on, Tue 13 May 2008, 10:50, Reply)

Strangely enough, I've lost all of these
But previous most treasured possessions include:

A whales vertebra I found washed up on a beach

A WW1 bayonet my evil stepfather swapped for an unexploded shell in the playground

My Acorn Electron - awesome computerness.

My sanity
(teasus likes tea, Tue 13 May 2008, 10:26, Reply)

Momentary, and shallow, but
Right now, it's this lovely hot frothy cappuccino and this lovely fresh hot buttery scone.

I'm starving and I didn't have any breakfast. If this place burns down now I'm damned if I'm going to deal with the fallout on an empty stomach.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Tue 13 May 2008, 10:24, 106 replies)

Camping Bag
If my house should ever burn down with all my things in it, I know for a fact that I would take my big green army rucksack.

That's because it has the following in:

- Camping stove and pans
- Various tinned foods
- Emergency £20 note
- Passport
- Driving license
- A little bit of very dry Golden Virginia, and some rizlas
- Sleeping bag
- Tent
- Torch
- Penknife
- Several jumpers and bits of underwear
- A flask of shit whiskey

I would also grab my helmet and my gloves, and fuck off out of the country on my bike. My posessions are the only things stopping me from doing that right now.


Oh, and I also have a bronze cross on a chain given to me 5 years ago by one of my best mates. I always keep it safe, though I think she's long forgotten about giving it to me. She's one of the most wonderful people I've ever met, oddly I've never even told her that but I think she knows.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Tue 13 May 2008, 9:24, 2 replies)

The love of my children








Fuck that, its my limited edition xbox 360 and 30 games. Kids can rescue themselves from a fire...
(Faust Arp, Tue 13 May 2008, 9:03, 2 replies)

Ah crap
I had my last cigarette last night, and this fucking patch is itching like mad.
Tonight, when I was gagging for a ciggy, I took out mum's last letter to me. I cried a little and then cried some more.
If my apartment were to burn down tomorrow, I'd take my patches with me.
Smoking sucks. It killed my mummy.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Tue 13 May 2008, 6:48, 12 replies)

There's little that can't be replaced in my household
and if the whole lot went up in smoke or a very lost burmese cyclone, I could rebuild my life.

But given the chance to grab some things, I have a portable vertical file that has all my paperwork in it (passport, bills, receipts etc). That has a carry handle and is there just in case I need to leave in a hurry. On the other side of the room is my portable HDD which backs up my computers and 15+ years of documents.

Although I picked up a 16gb usb stick today which should actually be enough for all the important stuff. Might start using that instead.
( Ratsta, Tue 13 May 2008, 4:49, 1 reply)

I think....
my newly regrown virginity. For some reason, I am subconsciously clinging to it, even though consciously I wish I could burst the fucker.

Meh.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Tue 13 May 2008, 3:48, 1 reply)

My Pet Peeve...
...is people who do this and think it's fucking funny.
(FurtiveBiscuit, Tue 13 May 2008, 2:15, 1 reply)

...
my most treasured possession is a 1954 Seven Brides for Seven Brothers poster. It's the best thing EVER!

and Sparrow Dodger... it's a close call...
(Ryfelwr can't stop here... this is bat country, Tue 13 May 2008, 1:55, Reply)

Fire!
.
In the unlikely event that my place caught fire I think I'd dash into the computer room and save my 24-inch IMac.

I'd leave my beloved Mrs Legless and Meep the kitten to fend for themselves and lug my shiny bit of computery goodness out of the door.

.


.

Would I buggery. I'd leave the over-priced bag of shite to burn, possibly even throw petrol over it, and save something more useful.

Like a fish slice.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Tue 13 May 2008, 1:39, 2 replies)

I would save this little fella.
Dylan, my pride & joy. Sod the 2 daughters, he gives me unconditional love, never squabbles, and tells me to get my arse up off the sofa and take him walkies. Gives hugs at any time, and loves a game of tug, or manly boxing & wrestling.

As for the one behind- meh, if I have time.
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Tue 13 May 2008, 0:43, 1 reply)