“It doesn’t have to be from your childhood…” Jade said, “It’s still a toughie…” I thought to myself.
I either find I have too many memories or not enough.
And let’s face it, not all of them are good ones! This course is indeed great therapy for me, but is in danger of becoming an “emotional trip.” The last thing I want is to bring everyone else down with my “black cloud” moments, I am always too aware that I do that now.
Anyways, back to the plot; my childhood was alright I guess… apart from the being forced to eat brussles thingy. My school days were not the best in the world; but I guess bullying does that for you really.
My teen age years were spent in and out of jobs, and it is fair to say I was not a “normal young ‘un” was an understatement. No late nights out getting drunk and unruly, no trouble brought to my families door. No police phone calls asking for bail or help, no getting stoned out of my brain for me; no string of little kids following me around and calling me Mummy… yes people I was indeed that good girl.
Though I can assure you all I was not perfect, but then that would not surprise you really.
I have been the cause of most of my parents grey hairs, and probably the cause of their bad health too… well; so they tell me anyway.
How on earth I managed to stay alive, let alone safe is beyond me. I was (and always have been) a friendly person, I would (and still do) talk to anyone. So how I managed to not be abducted is a miracle, though some days I know my folks wish I had been ~ I am a nightmare!
I was not really bad, more a pain in the butt. I have one of those “can drop it” natures; I just have to have the last word in an argument. Though I rarely argue with friends, it is always my folks; I know that bothers them a lot.
Anyways, my 20’s were spent much the same as my teens, though now I began to go out more; maybe I am getting my life the wrong way round?
The more others in the group talked, the more I was able to remember bits about my childhood and growing up… things I had forgotten, maybe that is a sign I am getting old?
I remember fondly the little blue and white trike that stayed at my Granddad’s in
Earl Street, he lived just down the road from the shoe factory that is now the Charles Bradlaugh pub. I was always told to never go father than the factory and the corner of Robert Street, and as a good girl I never did.
Taking a slight tangent here, I can remember that every time I walked past the factory I would shout “hello” through the open window; always being greeted by a hearty “hello” back. It was always the same bloke that shouted back; or seemed to be anyways. It also seemed a different age when people would not ignore their neighbours, when there was a sense of community and people were not afraid of speaking to youngsters.
I heard Richard speak of television programmes, some even I had heard of; but it also allowed me to remember those classics (well they were to me) that I loved and enjoyed.
Oh the times I sat with Mum during lunch watching Bagpuss, Dangermouse, (a favourite of Mum’s) Count Duckula, (Mum does a cracking impression of Nanny) Button Moon, and many others… Of course we cannot let this go without mentioning Newsround or indeed Blue Peter; how I wish I had a Blue Peter badge, almost worth trading in my Service Medal from
for one of them! St. John
As I think about it now, there are so many memories that it would take me forever to write them all down.
But maybe that is the point in a way isn’t it? A reminder of days gone by, when everything just seemed easier and better. Mind you though, it may have something to do with the fact I was only a kid.