Between our house and the shops was a big field. There were trees at one end and football pitches marked out. Bordering the field was an indoor swimming pool and a school or college. I remember that on at least one occasion we walked from school past some horses in a small paddock, past the bigger school to the swimming pool.
I think this field was used for fairs and other events. This is probably where my sister and I entered fancy dress contests as various characters created by our mother, Jackal and Hyde, Lady Diana Spencer, Women's World and others. It was on our way to one of these events that I accidentally shut my sister's thumb in a car door.
Summers in Corsham were wonderful and endless. We played in the back garden with toys made from empty cardboard boxes, we sat in a padding pool warming in the sun watching the grass change from green to yellow to light brown. Dad grew vegetables in the part of the garden furthest from the house. I remember the runner bean poles. I can't remember the inside of the house, the memory seems to blend with other houses I have visited.
One day we went to Bath to see the Queen. There were lots of people there and I was given a pistachio ice cream which I liked the colour of, but not the taste. I did catch a glimpse of the Queen as she went by.
On another day we went towards Bristol to see a classic car rally. The car stereo was tuned to a station presented by a man with a St Bernard dog. There was a hypermarket near Bristol, I think it was a Carefor, we would occasionally go there to buy a one month supply of food, some of which must have ended up in a chest freezer in the garage.
I also remember going to Bristol Parkway railway station car park with my father, sitting in the car, eating sandwiches watching (or perhaps "spotting") the trains. For some reason I think my mother and sister were shopping.
I have been told and shown picture evidence of me at the age if 5, standing on my chair at an older relative's birthday party in Bath and singing "happy birthday" solo. I don't remember this. It seems that I try not to remember such incidents.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Sunday, 20 May 2012
Corsham
My other memories of Corsham are that I was friends with most of the children in the cul-de-sac. The family opposite us on the road were the Philpotts, they had a boy about my age called Paul. The family next to us had a slightly older boy who seemed very intelligent and at the bowl of the cul-de-sac was Peter (I think). We played in each other's gardens, along the footpath by the cow field and on the clay bank at the end of our garden.
The game foremost in my memory was only played once. At the entrance to the Close are two grass covered banks rising from the pavement to the hight of some back gardens. We thought it was a great idea for some of us to hide in the grass shooting pretend guns onto a fearless few left behind at the bottom of the bank. This was going well until someone had the bright idea of using large stones found at the bottom of the bank as grenades. These were duly lobbed in a high parabola to land vertically near the intended victim. Unfortunately for me, I moved and a sizeable stone cut my forehead around the hairline. My parents were met by apologetic children and a son with blood pouring down his face.
On another occasion it was so cold that the water trough in the cow field had frozen. I don't know why I decided to try and tap dance on it, but I did and of course, the ice broke, leaving me waist deep in very cold water.
I don't know if we were trespassing or not, but my father would occasionally take us for a walk around these fields , on one occasion I learnt about Scotch mist (a light ground fog that appears constantly at a distance and that dissipates before you can walk through it).
The earth bank at the end of our back garden was mostly mud. At the time I didn't know why it was there, during my last visit, I found that it now holds a road. Interspersed in the mud were strips of silver grey clay. These strips proved to be wonderful slides, however the down side of this adventure was that my trousers would become covered in the clay. I expect this was very hard to wash out and also I seem to remember it may have been the end of one washing machine. I am sure that on at least one occasion I was in trouble for using one of these slide whilst being prohibited to do so.
At the end of that new road is the entrance to Box Tunnel, part of the main railway line from London to Bath. Sometimes Dad took us for a walk to the tunnel entrance, sometimes along a small road that ran towards an army base on top of it. I remember investigating one or two pill boxes (small cement fortifications to position a machine gun) along that road and a football pitch. I also remember structures built to allow smoke to escape the tunnel.
Somewhere between there and the Close was a small forest, I think there was a footpath from there alongside the cow field and further into other housing developments. I remember having a toy pistol that could be loaded with bits of potato propelled by caps. I shot my sister with that gun on that path and got into trouble for that.
I had a bike from about the age of three, so by the age of six, I must have been a competent cyclist. So that explains my confidence to ride a bike much larger than myself, then falling off and having to be taken to hospital after hitting my head.
I went to a school that seemed to be the other side of town. I can still clearly remember the walk there. Out of the Close, through a subway under a main road, along a path overlooking more houses being built, over a smaller road, through a cycle path between some terrace houses, left turn up the hill past these houses and right turn would eventually bring you out on a main road opposite the school. I think the school had flints built into its walls and consisted of an infants and juniors school. I remember my first girlfriend was Clare Bailey. Though mostly I remember the drawer that she kept her pens and pencils in. I remember one year it was so cold the playground froze into one sheet of ice. I remember that our classroom was opposite the assembly hall and that the other side of the hall was a road which needed to be crossed in order to get to the school playing fields.
The game foremost in my memory was only played once. At the entrance to the Close are two grass covered banks rising from the pavement to the hight of some back gardens. We thought it was a great idea for some of us to hide in the grass shooting pretend guns onto a fearless few left behind at the bottom of the bank. This was going well until someone had the bright idea of using large stones found at the bottom of the bank as grenades. These were duly lobbed in a high parabola to land vertically near the intended victim. Unfortunately for me, I moved and a sizeable stone cut my forehead around the hairline. My parents were met by apologetic children and a son with blood pouring down his face.
On another occasion it was so cold that the water trough in the cow field had frozen. I don't know why I decided to try and tap dance on it, but I did and of course, the ice broke, leaving me waist deep in very cold water.
I don't know if we were trespassing or not, but my father would occasionally take us for a walk around these fields , on one occasion I learnt about Scotch mist (a light ground fog that appears constantly at a distance and that dissipates before you can walk through it).
The earth bank at the end of our back garden was mostly mud. At the time I didn't know why it was there, during my last visit, I found that it now holds a road. Interspersed in the mud were strips of silver grey clay. These strips proved to be wonderful slides, however the down side of this adventure was that my trousers would become covered in the clay. I expect this was very hard to wash out and also I seem to remember it may have been the end of one washing machine. I am sure that on at least one occasion I was in trouble for using one of these slide whilst being prohibited to do so.
At the end of that new road is the entrance to Box Tunnel, part of the main railway line from London to Bath. Sometimes Dad took us for a walk to the tunnel entrance, sometimes along a small road that ran towards an army base on top of it. I remember investigating one or two pill boxes (small cement fortifications to position a machine gun) along that road and a football pitch. I also remember structures built to allow smoke to escape the tunnel.
Somewhere between there and the Close was a small forest, I think there was a footpath from there alongside the cow field and further into other housing developments. I remember having a toy pistol that could be loaded with bits of potato propelled by caps. I shot my sister with that gun on that path and got into trouble for that.
I had a bike from about the age of three, so by the age of six, I must have been a competent cyclist. So that explains my confidence to ride a bike much larger than myself, then falling off and having to be taken to hospital after hitting my head.
I went to a school that seemed to be the other side of town. I can still clearly remember the walk there. Out of the Close, through a subway under a main road, along a path overlooking more houses being built, over a smaller road, through a cycle path between some terrace houses, left turn up the hill past these houses and right turn would eventually bring you out on a main road opposite the school. I think the school had flints built into its walls and consisted of an infants and juniors school. I remember my first girlfriend was Clare Bailey. Though mostly I remember the drawer that she kept her pens and pencils in. I remember one year it was so cold the playground froze into one sheet of ice. I remember that our classroom was opposite the assembly hall and that the other side of the hall was a road which needed to be crossed in order to get to the school playing fields.
Life story first entry
It must have all started about 8pm on 16th December 1970 in Odstock
Hospital Salisbury. Obviously I don't remember.
My first memory is at the age of two watching from our lounge window as my
mother walked out of an ambulance carrying my new born baby sister. As the
years have gone by I find that I no longer believe this is a true memory
and may be a construct of my imagination. Why would an ambulance bring my
mother home? Why are the roses in bloom in late February. How could a two
year old be able to see so much through a raised window?
One thing I do remember well is "shades of a monotonous tango" a crossword
clue that I heard on a summers day in Portchester. It was years later
during some quiet time in my bunk on HMS Turbulent, that I thought "cha
cha", which probably didn't fit.
I do remember walking to the vets near our house in Hawley. But I don't
remember having a cat at the time. I know that we had a ginger tom cat when
I was small (probably before I was two) and I did receive fair punishment
for constantly pulling it's tail, when I was scratched diagonally across my
face (just missing one eye). Up until recently the scars used to show when
I was hot. Now wrinkles have smoothed them out.
I also remember a walk through some nearby trees, the smell of the
decomposing forest floor (a smell that always takes me back there) and some
talk of a snake. I don't think we saw one, I expect someone else told us
that there was one nearby. Yes I can't blame my "justifiable respect" for
snakes on a chance encounter in a Surrey forest. I feel that I have always
been aware that I shouldn't be too close to them.
I do remember walking to school when we lived in Hawley, but it must have
been a nursery. I have vague memories of a fate or fayre nearby and of
going to Sunday School.
I have seen photographs of me riding a bike, but I have no memory of
learning. I do remember (in Penleigh Close Corsham) being offered the
option to ride a racing bike that was much bigger than me, then hitting the
curb on the opposite side of the road and being taken to hospital. I think
there was a problem and we had to go to several hospitals before I was
admitted. I was given a milkshake (may have been a vitamin drink of some
sort) which made me sick. According to my parents I formed a friendship
with an old man during my short stay and his ghost visited me the night he
died.
On the same street I cycled into the rear of a neighbours stationary car
(purple Renault with chrome bumpers), I quite simply was looking to my left
at my house, whilst cycling on the wrong side of the road and "Crash Bang"
Monday, 14 May 2012
Chicken
After sleeping on the idea, I realised that it was a bad one. Not only would it be stupid to tell the world my inner monologue, without telling H. There is a very good chance H would find this anyway.
Time to rethink the idea.
Time to rethink the idea.
The start
I don't know where to start here. I heard on the radio that primary school children are successfully blogging about their school meals and I thought "what if I tried to a blog as a diary if my intimate thoughts, keep it anonymous, but don't tell anyone until I am no longer around to answer to it?"
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