Thursday,
20 September 2012
Twelve
is my very favourite number. I don't know why. I did love being twelve though. I
felt like that was the year I grew up and in many ways it was. I had my twelfth
birthday in Amsterdam with Footsbarn. We were staying in a place called Camping
Zeeburg. While I was there I went to my first nightclub the Melkweg. Actually I
had been there before, when I was a baby in a carry-cot when Mum and Dad used to
let me sleep under the stage (or maybe that was my sister - in any case I can't
remember it). I was also introduced to the idea of a red light district and
shown what it was. I stayed up nearly all night watching MTV. I was one of the
big kids. Then we left Footsbarn and moved back to the UK. Dad had a job waiting
for him building scenery for commercials and music videos and it was about time
my sister and I attended 'real school'. Suddenly I wasn't the big kid any more
and was thrown into the last term of the first year at an enormous Kent Comp.
Sink or swim.
After my little petite mal yesterday morning I picked myself up (with Husband's help) dusted myself off and cheered up. I walked to pick daughter 2 up from school. It took me about an hour and was the best thing I could have done. It was cold when I left and I wished I had worn more. The sun came out and I soon warmed up. Every time I leave this house I am transported down memory lane. As I walked across the Village Green I remembered sitting with the older kids and trying to learn how to smoke cigarettes, I walked past the pub where I learnt to pull a pint, down a footpath that runs from one village to the next (from my school friend's house to the local pub that was kind enough to serve us even though we were blatantly underage).
When I was walking across the primary school car-park I remembered the day we arrived back in England. We were in our bus, where we had lived on and off for 5 years. England wasn't very receptive in the late 80's to people who lived in buses. We were on our way from Dover to London where the plan was to find somewhere to park up until dad earned enough for us to rent somewhere to live. My parents had about £50. We stopped in that primary school car park on our way to my God-father's house en route. We were lost and needed directions for the last half a mile. I don't remember exactly what happened but I do know that when we got there he (and his wife) persuaded my parents to stay put in Kent, get us two girls into school and commute to London. A pivotal day and a bitter-sweet reminder.
Daughter 2 and I walked into the village and bought a huge piece of chocolate cake to share. We sat in the sun in the Memorial Garden and I chuckled quietly at the irony of it all.
After my little petite mal yesterday morning I picked myself up (with Husband's help) dusted myself off and cheered up. I walked to pick daughter 2 up from school. It took me about an hour and was the best thing I could have done. It was cold when I left and I wished I had worn more. The sun came out and I soon warmed up. Every time I leave this house I am transported down memory lane. As I walked across the Village Green I remembered sitting with the older kids and trying to learn how to smoke cigarettes, I walked past the pub where I learnt to pull a pint, down a footpath that runs from one village to the next (from my school friend's house to the local pub that was kind enough to serve us even though we were blatantly underage).
When I was walking across the primary school car-park I remembered the day we arrived back in England. We were in our bus, where we had lived on and off for 5 years. England wasn't very receptive in the late 80's to people who lived in buses. We were on our way from Dover to London where the plan was to find somewhere to park up until dad earned enough for us to rent somewhere to live. My parents had about £50. We stopped in that primary school car park on our way to my God-father's house en route. We were lost and needed directions for the last half a mile. I don't remember exactly what happened but I do know that when we got there he (and his wife) persuaded my parents to stay put in Kent, get us two girls into school and commute to London. A pivotal day and a bitter-sweet reminder.
Daughter 2 and I walked into the village and bought a huge piece of chocolate cake to share. We sat in the sun in the Memorial Garden and I chuckled quietly at the irony of it all.
No comments:
Post a Comment