2024
This is a blog that i had been putting off for some time, not only due to the fact that i had very little recall/memory of my younger childhood years especially, but also due to a disinclination to do so - tis a blog that i apparently started on 20th May, and after quite a number of pauses completed on 4 August - such pauses actually proved to be useful, as they allowed time for many forgotten about occurrences to seemingly spontaneously return to my conscious mind during such periods of inactivity...
...With others coming into mind during the many separate occasions that i was typing - no doubt Assistance was afforded to me during such a process, for which i am Thankful - anyway, without further ado let's move on to the chosen sharing of such childhood events shall we...
So, such an incarnation commenced upon my exiting the 'portal' of my mother's womb at precisely 3am onth 3rd December 1953 - such an exact time being noted by my mother due to the fact that there was a rather large clock positioned onth far hospital wall to her right, apparently - and with the delivery nurse apparently announcing that 'this one's been here before', immediately upon the completion of such a delivery apparently...
I was born in not-so-burley-Hurley in Maidenhead Buckinghamshire - so was a 'southerner', where bath was barth and path was parth, doncha know dahlings - a manner of speaking that disappeared gradually as we ventured increasing further north as such a childhood progressed...
Anyway, things didn't start off particularly well for me, as my arrival was simply not a welcomed one...
For it would seem that i was 'accidentally' conceived when mum's first child was slightly less than five months old - a time when such a child was still being breast-fed - and there was apparently a much believed 'old wives tale' that stated that a mother simply couldn't get pregnant whilst breast-feeding...
Surprise surprise eh...
Such a situation was somewhat exacerbated by the fact that mum and dad were simply not suited to one-another - with mum of the opinion that 'sex was dirty' - whereas dad was a very good looking, highly virile and impressively/athletically strong-bodied young man apparently...
What could possibly go wrong eh...
Well, in short, me making an unexpected appearance, that's what - for, reading between the lines it would very much seem that mum could have done an 'exit stage left' back to her Manchester roots, by living with her father once again if there had only been the one child - but no, there were now two, which very much seemed to scupper such supposed/presumed plans...
...And dad very much seemed to be locked into such an incompatible marriage by his father, who apparently told him, 'you've made your bed, now lie in it' - sympathy personified eh - so 'lie in it' my father did...
So anyway, rather unsurprisingly, twould very much seem that a period of post natal depression was experienced by my rather down-hearted mother - a period of time, during which i was, sometime later presumably, seemingly consigned to my pram and left inth back garden - until an enquiring, 'one for sorrow' magpie came visiting said pram apparently, and mum was alerted to such a potential danger by a seemingly rather alert and concerned/diligent female next door neighbour, and, in the process, seemingly brought her back to her maternal senses...
But, once again reading betweenth lines, such a belated showing of love was all too late - with a seemingly rather wilful me deciding to reject such guilt-laden belated attempts - karma, and the big 'fuck you' huh...
Twas seemingly/presumably during such a period of time that i seemingly, one supposes, decided 'fuck this for a game of soldiers, i'm off back Home' - for apparently my body turned a pre-death black and blue colour - but, as luck wouldn't have it, mum had read about the remedy for such a situation in a woman's magazine the day before, so repeatedly immersed said body into hot water then cold water until, presumably, my body colour had returned to normal, and such presumed 'return Home' plans were somewhat scuppered, and i (very much like my dad - and indeed mum, of course), was in it for the long haul, so to speak...
So anyway, what else do i remember regarding such younger years???...
Well i remember being in what was presumably my first primary school looking out of a classroom window and being rather concerned about the visiting fire engine parked outside our home, somewhat to the right, onth other side of the road...
Apparently mum had lit the gas stove beneath the frying pan before seemingly answering a knock at the front door - but had then gotten lost within conversation with the local milkman - until realising that said frying pan had well and truly caught fire, presumably causing smoke to billow its way out of the kitchen...
I don't think it actually did much damage, so no biggie, as they say...
And i remember, during such a presumed time-frame, walking within some sort of presumed field with my older sister and a similarly aged American lad - i was carrying an old and somewhat dirty/scratched white bicycle pump for some completely unknown reason - who knows, maybe i had simply found it along the way...
Anyway, i happened to see the occasional wasp exiting a small hole inth soil, and seemingly decided that they were in need of some extra air - resulting in me putting one end of said bicycle pump over said hole inth ground and attempting to pump air into it - as you do, obviously...
Anyway, after a time, i stopped pumping and removed the end of said bicycle pump from atop of said hole, and simply observed - but no, no other wasps came out - causing me to 'grind' said end of said bicycle pump further into the hole by rotating said end of the bicycle pump back and forth with much vigour, so that the air would more readily flow into said hole...
...And then set about rather vigorously pumping air much more effectively into said hole - for a protracted amount of time, may i add - a period of time, during which i noticed both my sister and said American lad moving rather concernedly/nervously further and further away in a sort of 'the writing' seems to be well and truly 'on the wall' sort of self-protective/preservation response - anyway, after a time i stopped pumping and removed the end of said bicycle pump from said hole to see whether this somewhat more determined attempt to gain said wasps-inth-hole attention would bare any fruit...
...Yep, you guessed it - mission definitely accomplished this time - as seemingly the whole swarm poured both angrily and determinedly out of said hole in order to let me know that such a prolonged and sustained influx of extra air was most definitely not welcomed by them...
...Ouch upon ouch folks - with my little legs, as well as those of the other two, taking flight homewards in a general state of highly unwelcomed panic - and that, dear reader of these words, is all i have ever been able to recall of such definitely ill-advised enquiring actions by myself...
Apparently mum had to remove all my clothing - with wasps having penetrated to the skin - leaving me with a perhaps rather understandable wasp phobia that extended well into adulthood, before being somewhat remedied...
And then there was the 'out of the mouths of babes' moment that mum told me about as an adult - apparently mum was talking to another female, with a listening me stood close to her side - with my recollections of what had been earlier said by mum not coinciding with what she was saying to said other female...
...An incorrect account that apparently caused me to say/interject, within confusion, 'no, that's not what you said, mum' - a seemingly unwelcomed interjection that no doubt caused mum some embarrassment eh - bad boy Terry, lolz, bad boy...
And then there was another apparent ickle 'factoid' that mum also shared with me during my adult life - and that was that dad apparently had a brother(???) that his parents used to keep hidden from her whenever she visited - something that she was only apprised of after she and dad had married apparently...
...For such a brother(???), as well as having a physical deformity in one of his legs, was apparently seen as a bit of a 'simpleton' also - something that would, apparently, have very much concerned her - and something that seemingly would have provided her with some very serious food for thought regarding such an impending marriage, had she known so beforehand...
Anyway, moving on, i have vague memories of having caught an 'itching' infection, presumably during such younger years - apparently i had contracted chickenpox and measles, as well as whooping cough along the way - as was apparently common amongst children generally during such a period of time actually...
Anyway, there was another thing that happened during such younger years apparently - twas a piece of completely unremembered information that dad conveyed to me during my mid to late 40's if my memory serves me correctly - when he told me that he stopped hitting me because i made him feel guilty for doing so - apparently the most he ever got in response from me was was a quivering bottom lip as i stared up, tellingly/accusingly/silently, into his eyes...
He actually told me this, amongst the company of others, with a sense of pride - as if he thought that, in his eyes at least, i had somehow proved myself to be a tough kid, and was proud of such displays of resilience - twas simply reflective of the prevailing mind-set of the day, i think...
So what form of work was dad engaged in during such a time, you may ask...
Well apparently he worked on some sort of estate - owned by the 'Wellesby's', i think - with my dad much later in my life recalling, correctly or otherwise, that there was a daughter (Lady Jane Wellesbury by any chance???) who used to walk a pet lamb around on a lead...
...Whether this was before, during, or sometime after i was born, i simply haven't got a clue...
Anyway, sometime during my sister and i's younger years, we apparently moved to a farm (Dr Bowers farm???) for a short time (during the school summer holidays perhaps??? - hence me having no memory of attending a school associated with such a move???) - during which time my younger brother was born - which then seemingly necessitated another move, as seemingly such a house included with such employment was very damp, resulting in such a newborn brother seemingly, potentially or otherwise, developing chest problems...
I am not sure but i think that the following two memories may possibly be ascribed to such a period of time, and if not then it would have been at an earlier, rather than later, period of time, for sure...
The first was of travelling in the back left hand side seat of a Jaguar saloon car that i think my father had been given/loaned for such a trip - it was seemingly an old one that i think may have needed some work doing on it before being road/travel-worthy - a car that had possibly been stored in a barn perhaps???...
Anyway as we had been travelling along one of the roads i had presumably been investigating the left door catch, causing said door to open and me to have nearly fallen out of the moving car whilst still clinging on to such a then increasingly opening door's handle - causing my presumably rather panicked parents to have pulled over, whereby either a mouse or rat had apparently taken such an opportunity to make its getaway - hence the reason for me thinking that it may have been stored in a barn beforehand ...
Anyway, the second of such memories was where we were holidaying within a caravan park (Yarmouth perhaps???), with us all sat outside of our particular rented caravan - seemingly i had been bought a black and white 'skull and crossbones' kite, which was flying above, with the end of the string tied to one arm of a chair - at which point, and after some insistent pleading, i was given some money to buy a ball of string in order to fulfil my desire to see said kite flying much higher inth air...
...Which indeed it eventually did, with a much stronger pull on it, may i add - a much stronger pull that at some point later caused the knot securing the two lengths of string together to separate, and the kite to gain its freedom - rather forlornly, from my perspective, as a watched it, within accepted silence, making its merry way further and further from where we were all sat...
...And that is all i can remember about such a move - for i have absolutely no other recollections of it whatsoever - even though such a move presumably necessitated moving to a new primary school also (unless such a move only lasted within the duration of a supposed summer holiday period perhaps???) ...
Anyway, whatever the truth/details of the matter were, i very much do have memories of our next move - for twas to a dairy farm inth village of Ashley in Cheshire(???) - a place that i have the warmest and most memories of, as it happens...
By far the strangest memory was of the day that mum told all three of us to go out and find a four-leaf clover from a nearby field...
Upon entering the field my older sister said something like, 'go on our Terry you'll be able to find us one' - upon which i knelt down and cupped a bunch of growing clover with the palms of both hands - only to see said bunch of clover go somewhat out of focus and quickly/rapidly quiver/vibrate/tremble/oscillate, before coming back into focus and becoming stationary once again - upon which i plucked out a solitary four-leaf clover...
And with great excitement we ran back to the kitchen door shouting that we had found one - only for mum to open said door, taking proffered four-leaf clover from me, looking at it with misbelieving eyes, and rather incomprehensively accusing me of gluing an extra leaf to the other three, before realising that it was in actual fact a genuine four-leaf clover - talk about taking the wind of joy completely out of a child's sails eh...
Looking back, i now realise that she had thought that she had given us an impossible task in order to get us all out of her hair for a while, so was rather annoyed at our prompt return ...
In the event such a four-leaf clover was placed within some of the pages of one of dad's electrical(???) books, before it was returned to the high, out-of-our-reach somewhat meagre kitchen book shelf - only to later disappear forever unfortunately - but not as quickly as my disappointment and confusion at being so readily and falsely being labelled a liar/cheat, apparently...
Another interesting memory was of being at Ashley Primary School one day, whereby some members of The Women's Institute paid us all a visit and instructed a number of us boys to sing for them - when my turn came i remember singing the 'whilst shepherds watched their flock by night' hymn - and of noticing that one of them was shedding tears as i did so - something that caused me to think that i had done something wrong as i continued to sing...
Twood seem that they were simply under the local vicar's instruction to find him some more choir boys - as a number of us were sent for an audition with the church organist - to which i sang the 'he who would valiantly be' hymn as said organist played the church organ...
The now amusing thing was that such a hymn (twas hymn 515 if i remember correctly) started near the bottom of a left hand page in two lateral blocks of words, with a vertical gap in between each block - and having never knowingly read/sung from a hymn book before i simply sang each line of words from the left hand side to the end of the right hand side of such a page, wondering why there was such a gap in between each block - and thinking, whilst singing, something like 'wow, this is difficult', whilst somehow managing to successfully keep in tune with the organ playing accompaniment...
Anyway, such efforts seem to have impressed said church organist into making me 'chief/head choir/altar boy' - a designation that afforded me the responsibilities of closing the church windows and snuffing out the candles, using a metal hook and metal cone attached to one end of a long wooden pole, at the end of each Sunday Service - choir singing services/duties that rewarded us with a (in my case) 'Bazooka Joe' buying 5d (if my memory serves me correctly) each week...
Upon one occasion i was asked to sing a solo at a packed church wedding service - and this, in turn, resulted in an audition at Manchester Cathedral being arranged - an audition that never actually took place, for, unbeknown to me at that time, mum had instructed an uncle to pretend not to be able to find such a Cathedral...
I think such machinations were mainly due to the difficulty/trouble such regular journeys would have presented to my parents had such an arranged audition been successful - but i am also left wondering whether such machinations were also borne out of jealousy from my mum at being 'outshone' by myself - for mum was, at that time, seemingly enjoying singing with such a 'Women's Institute' herself, if my memory serves me correctly...
...Or, who knows, perhaps it was simply monetary considerations - or indeed personal safety ones - or perhaps a mixture of all such things...
But anyway, what a bummer huh - for, who knows, it could have lead to me having a professional singing career during the 'Hippie' era and possibly beyond - my mother's mother was a mezzo soprano who used to sing at top venues in Manchester at the time of the second world war after all, so it was in our genes (or at least mine, anyway) ...
But hey, who knows, maybe the Higher Beings / that which we most commonly refer to as God had a different plan for me eh...
Anyway, talking of Ashley Primary School, my first memory of such a school was taking a pee in the toilets situated within the playground, and of two fellow male pupils coming in and taking a pee to the left of me, and of them looking me over in a somewhat menacing way (i could feel their challenging/threatening vibes), without anything ostensibly untoward taking place...
...And of another occasion, presumably soon afterwards, whereby i had been given a new pencil by mum and was showing it off, rather gullibly, to some of the other pupils - and of a rather tall male pupil 'asking' me to hand it over to him for closer inspection - and of me rather gullibly doing so...
Anyway, he held it horizontally at each end with the fingers of each of his hands, bent at the knees so that his face was level with mine, smiled with pleasured/evil intent, and then simply snapped it in two right in front of my eyes...
...Bad move dude...
...For as the pencil snapped, so did i - and unfortunately for him i was naturally ambidextrous, wilful, and stronger than i presumably looked - resulting in me swinging repeatedly with both fists...
...Resulting in him going backwards, me moving forwards, and individual desks to go clattering (an audible memory, rather than a visual one), before an adult female locked my arms behind my back, in order to stop the 'onslaught' from continuing - fight over - and the school bully from the year above put firmly in his place...
...I never remember seeing him after that - i can only assume that it must have been close to the summer holidays, and that he moved on to a non-primary school at the end of such assumed summer holidays - all i do remember is a bunch of lads asking if they could join my gang, and me saying that i didn't have one, but then telling them that they could do as long as each of them brought me in a 'Bazooka Joe' each morning, which they did thereafter...
...Gullible, but not altogether dumb huh...
And then there was the attractive long ginger-haired girl in the same year as me (she later became a heroin addict, allegedly) - her mother worked as a playground monitor - and myself and her daughter became boyfriend and girlfriend...
...It started off with the two of us racing each other up the length of the playground, towards some white cricket stumps that were painted onto the surface of the front inside wall - she was a good runner - but not quite as good as me if i tried really hard...
Later we used to put two large and square horse-haired mats together, and four of us (two girls and two boys) used to lay next to each other and pass kisses back and forth during playtime - with me making sure that i lay at one end, with my girlfriend one in from me, in order that i didn't have to kiss the other girl (the said school bully's younger sister), who i didn't fancy - it seemed like a marginally preferable trade-off for having the other male pupil kissing my girlfriend and vice-versa, back and forth, as such group-kissing continued...
...An activity that caused said girlfriend's mother much confusion/befuddlement - i don't think she could decide what to do about it - but, in the event, decided to do nothing...
Twas during one of our races, when i was busy looking rightwards at my girlfriend, when a fat lad moved horizontally and we collided, causing me to fall to the floor mid run, and resulting in me breaking part of my left front tooth at 45 degrees - i think he may have been jealous - although i bore him no malice what-so-ever afterwards...
...All i remember is having to go to the dentist on a number of successive occasions in order to have more and more of the dangling tooth nerve removed until it no longer dangled...
And those, together with the singing of 'whilst shepherds watched their flocks by night' are all the memories i have of such a (third???) primary school...
So anyway, back to farm memories during such a period of time...
I used to like to get up with my dad at circa 5am to help in the milking of the cows etc - i think it probably started with me waking up sometime later and simply presenting myself to dad inth shippon - and then possibly moved on to dad waking me up in order to accompany him each morning...
Each milking cow had a name - but i can only remember three of them - Tilly, Christie, and Rita...
Tilly was the best milker with the largest set of udders - Christie was my favourite - and not so lovely Rita was the vicious/nervy one who poked (without penetrating the skin) my sister with one of its horns...
I remember walking down the shippon close to the rear of each cow i passed one morning - i think i must have stopped behind Rita and startled her, for she kicked out into my stomach and put me on my back - but the strange thing was i felt absolutely no pain whatsoever...
...Mind you, Rita did when dad started pummelling her with his fists in retaliation - her back legs nearly gave away and she was bellowing in pain - i felt sorry for her and wished dad to stop sooner, but i guess he instinctively went into 'protective' mode...
I was assigned a number of different jobs during milking time...
...One was to feed the cows dry pellets whilst they were being milked...
...And another one, during winter, was to fill a wheel-barrow up repeatedly with steaming hot silage (kale) from the silage pit using a spade to cut portions out of, and then to feed a portion to each cow...
...And a third was to help dad to wrap and secure chains around each cow's neck after they entered their respective milking stall - they were very compliant in such a regard - and even seemed to know which particular stall was their personally allotted space...
...And a fourth was to hose the channel that the cows used to pee and poo into with water in order to wash it all away after they had been returned to pasture...
...And, finally, another remembered other duty was to put dried milk into metal buckets, and to add both hot and cold water to the temperature that dad had shown me, before mixing it all together whilst smoothing out the lumps, before carrying them into the calf pens and feeding said reconstituted milk to each of them in turn - the taught method was to put a hand into the milk and to offer two fingers to each calf to suck on whilst lowering said fingers back into the milk - resulting in said two fingers looking like dried prunes upon completion...
...Twas a job i really enjoyed (well, apart from the 'dried prunes' bit) as the calves were such lovely and appreciative creatures...
I remember one afternoon being assigned the job of removing all the weeds from in-between the stone bricks of one particular 'courtyard' area at the rear of the shippon - twas something that i remember really enjoying becoming engrossed in, in a somewhat determined way - anyway, time must have passed beyond evening meal time, for both parents arrived from our house to tell me that it was passed the time for my evening meal...
...As it happened i was close to finishing and told them that i wished to do so before returning home - so, upon seeing how determined i was to complete such a task they returned home together and allowed me remain in order to do so - the simple joys of completing a task eh...
Other farm memories include...
1) Climbing new bales of hay inth barn with my older sister - we would climb to the top and then jump down into a large, cushioning, heap of deep loose hay repeatedly, simply for the thrill of it - and we also 'built' an enclosed hiding area (we moved bales into preferred positions) for ourselves at the top of such bales in order to play undetected...
2) Of dad, myself and a third person watching Pat(ch), our stub-tailed dog chasing a hare round and around in a large circle - and of dad saying that the dog would tire before the hare did - but of Pat(ch) slowly but surely gaining ground on said hare until she caught and killed an unexpected meal for us, and of how much Pat(ch) rose in our estimations because of this...
3) Of dad putting one end of a wet length of grass in his teeth, whilst putting the other end in contact with the top of an pulse-battery-electrified fence, allowing him to experience each pulse of electricity for a while - and of three of us holding hands (with me at the end) and dad grabbing hold of the pulse-electrified fence so that the current passed through to me to experience - and of me timing my jumps correctly so that the middle guy would experience such pulsed currents of electricity, rather than myself...
4) Of me, armed with a short and thick branch, chasing a pheasant in a field - and of me gaining on it and thinking, excitedly, how proud my parents would be of me if i managed to catch it and bring it home for our evening meal (my 'caveman Terry' moment lolz) - but of said pheasant then taking flight, me throwing said tree branch at it, and of it only just, disappointingly/deflatingly, missing the pheasant's head...
5) Of my very impressively built father sat topless on the tractor cutting the hay in a field - and of him inadvertently destroying a wasps nest whilst doing so - and of him allegedly (i was only told of this) being attacked and stung by the ensuing swarm of surviving wasps...
And other non-farming related memories including...
1) My sister and i being given an old pair of stilts and pogo stick by the owner of the farm (they had belonged to his daughter and son when they had been children), and of us both learning how to use them both...
2) Watching the owners daughter tend to her horse, enquiringly - and of her taking me out for a ride on it one day - with me sat behind her with my arms wrapped around her as she brought it up to a full gallop, and me repeatedly bouncing up and down on it as it did so...
3) Of me playing with the new wheeled horse water carrying device in one of the horse stalls one day - and of three or four similar aged lads coming in, and of one of them threatening me, and of me about to walk up to him within confrontation, but of an unknown 'force' neutralising such an urge (as in the 'A Dad Dream') and keeping me compliant as they tied me up with twine and left me inside said water carrying device apparently before disappearing - i say 'apparently' because i remember nothing of the tying up part etc, and can only assume that someone (dad???) later found me and released me...
...Said lads were seemingly partying(???) visitors of the farm owners - so if i had punched the lad threatening me i could have gotten my dad into trouble i guess - hence the reason for me being 'restrained' by said unknown 'force'??? (yeah, strange, once again, i know) ...
4) Of me being given a number of homing pigeons by someone (via my dad) and keeping them in one of the two pigeon coops situated in a field at the rear of the farm owners large house - and of me going in periodically to feed them corn - and of me looking at one of the bedroom windows and seeing the owners horse-riding daughter naked, and of me feeling guilty at inadvertently spying on her, but not being able to stop myself from doing so for a while (the first time i had knowingly seen the top half of a naked female) ...
...And of me letting said pigeons out for a fly after a month had passed - and of them presumably flying back home, never to return - apparently they should have forgotten after a month lolz...
5) Of me going on holiday, alone, for a week to somewhere in the Lake District to join a fairly large group of other similarly aged lads, via the YMCA/YHA - and of us climbing to the top of Scafell Pike on a rainy day - and of my brand new Timpson's 'tracker' shoes (they had different animal/bird prints on the rubber soles) getting ruined in the process (mum later took them back to the store and got them replaced) ...
...I visually remember being sat in the back seat of the car taking me there - and of a youngish adult male driving, and his girlfriend sat next to him - and of their hands clasping each other whilst holding onto the gear stick and furtively smiling at each other, like two lovers in silent anticipation of spending some 'quality' time with each other whilst on such a trip...
...Twas an interesting/fun week where we stayed in a glorified large hut in the middle of nowhere basically - a week whereby we used to sit on oblong pieces of fibrous boards with both hands lifting the front of such 'bendy' boards up off the ground, before careering/racing repeatedly down a fairly steep dry-grassed hill - and of us going for exploratory unaccompanied local walks...
...A table tennis tournament was also arranged that i got to the final of, even though i had never played such a game before - an occasion whereby the lad i was playing in the final was much better than any of those i had earlier played, and of me seemingly spontaneously using my left hand as well as my right (switching hands) in order to counteract his more skilful/faster(???) shots (i was naturally ambidextrous) - and of the 'oooh arrs' by the other watching lads as i did so, that mistakenly made me feel that i was somehow cheating, causing me to revert back to using only my right hand once again, and subsequently losing such a final lolz...
6) Of the farm owner's son repeatedly leaving some small change in the cigarette tray in his unlocked car overnight - and of my sister and i helping him to 'lighten the load' of such highly inviting change - until he must have noticed, of course, causing him to then lock said car doors...
7) Of me furiously/determinedly trying to ride our tricycle up a small hill onth edge of lawn - and of it coming to an abrupt halt in the process - and of me flying over the handle bars into nettles and getting stung...
And then there was the memory of nosey 'Miss Baines' (the 'granny Moses Clampett' lookalike, of the Beverly Hillbillies fame lolz), the farm owners housekeeper, apparently noticing that the farm owners adult daughter was sneaking out at nights to meet up with my dad for presumed romps inth hay (my dad apparently used the excuse of checking up on a cow that was supposedly due to give birth), and of her advising mum to keep a better watch on her husband's activities...
...And of dad and i later spending the weekend at such a then newly married farm owning daughter's house in order for him to renew the electrical lighting cables...
...And of the night that dad went off in his car (to clear his head i think) and of a frantic mum apparently lashing out at my sister - my sister very much favoured my dad in the looks department, so i think this is why my sister, in particular, found herself to be on the receiving end of mum's presumed hand - tis something i, personally, have no memory whatsoever of, so can only go by what my sister shared with me in adulthood...
And then there was the indirect memory of my sister and her best friend Jean walking back home down a country lane from Ashley school one day, whereby a man sat in an open-doored car called them over and exposed himself to them both before they ran off to Jean's thankfully nearby parents farm - and of dad apparently cycling furiously to said spot, upon hearing about it, in the forlorn hope of catching up with said main in order to deal with him - twas probably a very good job that he didn't, as i suspect that he may have otherwise severely beaten him...
And then there was a winter memory, or two, whereby we used to get up in the morning and scrape ice off our bedroom window in order to see out of it, and to 'draw'/etch shapes/faces upon such an iced-up bedroom window also - and of the time when we were walking on our way to school through a series of wind-swept lateral snowdrifts, and of my sister suggesting that we put snow down our wellies and return home saying that the snow was too deep, in order to get a day off school - and of the chilblains i used to get on my toes, and how a really big one on one of my big toes burst, leaving a very painful 'crater' like hole in its wake that used to necessitate me 'tearing'/peeling my right sock off of it each evening before bed...
And then there was the memory of all of us going to the nearby Castle Mills open air swimming pool one day - whereby i entered the shallow end and tentatively walked/waded my way further in until the water level reached my lower stomach - and upon my breath then unexpectedly starting to become panicky ...
...Having more recently wondered why, i can only assume it had something to do with my much earlier in life repeated hot-water-cold-water immersions...
...Twasn't until my much later teen years, when a number of us hired a campervan and ventured out on a two(???) week holiday together, that, being the odd one out within such a respect, i was taught to swim in a swimming pool by the other lads...
...Strangely enough, perhaps, i found that i much preferred swimming underwater, rather than upon it's surface, and have always, in actual fact, done so / so preferred...
And, finally, there was the memory of the day we left such a farm - whereby i had asked mum if i could go into the cows field to say goodbye to 'Christie' my favourite milking cow, and was told 'yes but be quick' (or words to such effect) - and of me running into such a field, placing my head into the well of Christie's stomach, and explaining to her that we were leaving as i stroked her side, and of her turning her head and looking directly at me in seeming comprehension as i did so...
As a point of possible interest, i actually cycled back to such a farm, whilst in my 40's i think - whereby i chatted to the previous farm owner's son (i think he had possibly inherited such a farm) in reminiscence for a while, before cycling back home - twas on a nice and warm summer's day whereby i reacquainted myself with other remembered areas of interest, also, whilst doing so...
Anyway, moving on, once again, the next farm we lived at was one located in Marthall - there were actually two farms - the mink farm located close to our assigned cottage - and the dairy farm located further down the main country lane...
They were both owned by a seemingly rather eccentric unmarried man who was the owner of two fairly large detached properties located further up, and at the end of, the private untarmacked road from the main country lane than where our assigned cottage was situated - one was apparently his summer residence - and the other his winter residence...
Apparently he had a model railway track that ran between several rooms via holes in walls - he also owned a forest green Aston Martin DB4 car - it had a Labrador-scratched green leather rear seat that didn't seem to bother him in the slightest...
He later traded in such a DB4 for the then newly released/manufactured DB5, which i think may have been a silver one(???) ...
As an adult i came to the realisation that such a man also owned a tinned food (meats???) company - twas actually located on the opposite side of a road from the flat that mum and my younger brother lived in, soon after mum and dad had gone their separate ways - otherwise i would never have known about it (coincidences eh) ...
Mum actually worked part-time at such a mink farm, curing pelts, if my memory serves me correctly - many minks were confined to rows of very small individual strongly wire-meshed pens - twas where they were supposedly bred and fed until they reached full size, whereupon they were presumably summarily slaughtered in order that the wealthy could parade their wealth for all and sundry to see, by no doubt rather ostentatiously wearing their mink stoles/pelts and coats etc...
Such penned mink used to have dollops of minced meat scooped atop of each of their individual pens/prisons daily - sometimes sparrows would be attracted to such leftovers when in search of food, so would alight atop of such pens - and sometimes some would have a leg ripped off by some of the rather predatory mink...
...And sometimes a mink would escape - like the one that attacked my pet male Angora rabbit that was housed with its 'spouse' in a chicken-wire-fronted wooden hutch placed atop a wooden 'something' in our back garden did - it had bitten through the main top neck artery(???) and was left barely alive before such an escaped mink had presumably been disturbed, causing it to do a runner, Cool Hand Luke like, perhaps...
...In the event such a pet male rabbit was finished off with a rabbit chop to the neck by my father, before handing it over to mum to prepare for our evening meal - i remember sitting at the kitchen table in the early evening waiting, rather somberly/sullenly, for such a prepared and cooked dearly loved pet rabbit to be served to us all - and of dad presenting me with one of it's 'lucky' feet, and of a rather confused/uncomprehending me not feeling 'lucky' in the slightest...
...'Lucky' not to have had the opportunity to stroke it, feed it lettuce and carrots, and take it (along with its now widowed 'spouse') out for regular play times onth back lawn ever again eh...
......Such being the nature of 'farm life' i guess...
And talking about lawns - i remember one of my assigned duties being to mow said rear, side, and front lawns with a hand-pushed lawn mowing machine - twas something that i really enjoyed doing, as i liked the challenge of keeping the mower straight so that the cut bands of lawn ran in perfectly straight lines...
...Twas something that i was commended for by my father, so helped develop a sense of self-worth within me i guess...
I remember such lawns occasionally spawning mole hills which i used to flatten once again (with the back of a spade perhaps???) - and i remember the metal, wire, bird traps that were placed on such lawns, in order to catch such mink-food stealing sparrows - whether they were fed to such caged mink, also, i have absolutely no idea of course...
I further remember being in my older sister's bedroom once - we were both looking out of her bedroom window, at the sloped and tiled coal-house roof, whereby my sister spotted a single penny resting upon one of such sloped-roof tiles - and of her excitement at the prospect of gaining ownership of it...
...In the event she placed one of the dining chairs directly in front of such a coal-house and told me to climb onto it in order to retrieve such a single penny coin - which i did, upon then being told to hand it over to her before getting back down from such a dining chair - which i rather gullibly did also...
...Only for my older sister to then run off gleefully with it, at top speed, up the stairs and into the comparative safety of her bedroom, once again - and of me feeling cheated / hood-winked by her, and so setting off at full speed in pursuit of her - and of my somewhat downturned head making full-speed contact with such a bedroom door as it was being slammed shut...
...the fact that seeing stars amidst the blackness of the inside of my closed-eyed 'ouched' head was not simply the stuff of televised cartoon characters came as a completely unexpected revelation to me, of course - one that sort of offset the feeling of being so cheated / hoodwinked by said sister - silver linings eh...
But then came the day that my sister and i were stood, face to face, outside of such a cottage - very close to such a coal-house actually - a moment in time when we both independently recognised that i was no longer smaller than her...
...An upbeat/welcoming moment for me - and a somewhat sobering/unwelcoming moment for her - one upon which we both realised that my sister no longer had/held any physical ascendancy over me...
...I think we got on a lot more agreeably/equally with each other after that lolz...
Dad surprisingly bought me a 0.177 pellet/slug rifle whilst we were at Marthall...
One day i noticed a row of closely snoozing/sleeping starlings fairly high up along a lateral bough of the only tree in our back garden - so i aimed my rifle at the left-most one and pulled the trigger - and down it fell, without disturbing any of the others...
...So, intrigued, and a little excited with my first kill, i reloaded and aimed my rifle at the new left-most snoozing/sleeping starling and pulled the trigger once again - and down that one fell too - once again without disturbing any of the others...
...So, even more intrigued, but now beginning to feel the beginnings of sadness, i reloaded once again and aimed my rifle at the next new left-most still snoozing/sleeping starling and pulled the trigger once again - whereupon all the rest woke up startled and flew away as the third one i shot came falling down to the ground - and downcast i felt at such a murderous self-indulgence...
...So the beautifully flying house martins remained safe as they built their mud nests and raised their young directly under the outer rafters / eaves at the front of our cottage...
However, dad then got himself a double-barrelled 12-bore shotgun...
I remember walking around with him one day - and of him taking aim at the back of a tree-sitting magpie - and of him pulling the rather thunderous trigger and the magpie simply rustling/shaking its wings in response, before flying off...
...That really surprised me - and dad also i think - the seeming sheer resilience of such a magpie's wing feathers...
On another occasion, dad handed me such a shotgun and pointed at a small sparrow-like bird that was sitting on one of the branches of one of the nearby bushes for me to shoot - so, after instruction, and being told to keep the end of the wooden stock firmly against/into my right shoulder area, i took aim and pulled the trigger of such a gun for the first time - resulting in the end the such a wooden stock bouncing off my upper right-hand-side body and whacking me in the mouth/teeth, as i watched such a small bird fly away unscathed...
...Understandably, perhaps, twas the first and last time i ever fired such a gun - i was simply too young for it - and so lacking in the required strength to use it both properly and safely...
...I seem to remember that a little later dad had a fairly thick rubber piece put on the end of such a gun's stock, in order to help absorb the recoil upon firing it...
There was a front downstairs second lounge to such a cottage that my sister and i were under orders not to go into unaccompanied, if my memory serves me correctly - i remember mum and dad going into it one day, and of the two of us being strictly told not to enter - within which dad was trying to coax my clean-living, non-smoking and non-drinking, mother into partaking of a cigarette...
...As it happened, i don't think such coaxing bore any fruit - tis a somewhat strange remembrance, as my father wasn't a smoker either - and i never remember him presumably doing so ever again during the whole of his life...
Birds seemed to feature quite highly on such a farm, as dad and an uncle friend of his built a rather large wooden chicken coop with a raised wire-mesh floor within it - the idea was that they were going to rear chickens to sell, and in so doing make a little extra money for themselves - i remember the cute yellow little chicks that were under heating/warming lights to aid in the successful rearing process...
...And i also remember dad wringing one of the fully grown chicken's neck's inth back garden - and of him letting go of it, and it running around strangely before falling stationary onto the grass - and of being told that it was already dead whilst doing so, and it simply being an autonomic nerve response...
...I seem to remember mum plucking it in the kitchen sink during the afternoon - no doubt in readiness for our evening meal - farm-life eh...
...'Townies' know nowt about it of course - to them it's simply meat inth supermarket, or at the local butcher's (the hint is in the name 'butcher' folks) - no, perhaps fond, remembrances of Henrietta the hen, Larry the lamb, or Harriot the heffer, for example, whatsoever...
There were also a couple of memories of being with dad whilst he was at the close-by dairy farm of course...
The first one was of Cassius, the very sturdily built brown and white bull, in his outdoor pen - and of me watching dad inside such a pen with Cassius - and of Cassius pinning dad to the outside brick wall that such a pen was adjoined to, with his head pushed against dad's chest...
...And of me being rather silently concerned about dad's continued well-being - and of a somewhat taken by surprise dad grabbing hold of Cassius's nose ring and twisting/turning it forcefully - and of Cassius thankfully backing off, and of dad making a rather hasty/timely unharmed retreat from such a pen...
...phew eh...
And the other memory being of me helping dad to cut a long and seemingly overgrown straight hedge that ran alongside a local lane, with the aid of a pair of old wooden-handled, and somewhat rust-treated, hedge shears - such shears had a sort of half-moon shaped cut-out blade close to one of the handles, in order to cut through the more sturdy branches within such a hedge - i seem to remember using it rather a lot, whereas my much stronger and more capable father did not...
And whilst talking about old manual farming implements, there was also the memory of using a still-too-large old double-wooden-handled scythe that i have vague memories of using - and of dad occasionally using a black rounded, stick-shaped sharpening stone, in order to keep such a scythe's large blade sharp - and although it was an awkward implement to use, it was also a somewhat satisfying one to use also, as it cut rather impressively through the undergrowth(???), or whatever 'vegetation' it was i was cutting through...
And then there was another indirect memory which was somewhat later in my life supplied by my sister, once again - twas concerning my chicken coop building assistant uncle and his barren wife - she apparently had an argument with my mother regarding our upbringing, and apparently threatened to report mum(???) to some sort of child welfare agency...
During such a period of time it has to be remembered that children were 'to be seen and not heard', and that it was expected of parents to be seen to be 'bringing up their children right' - which in reality actually translated as 'strictly' - so, whenever people visited and we were all inside the home, we were seemingly under orders to sit straight-backed upon the settee and to remain 'respectfully silent', or there would be threatened 'consequences', i guess...
...And it further has to be remembered that such an aunty was unable to have children of her own - so although possibly yearning to do so, she most likely harboured possibly unrealistic/idealistic thoughts of what it would be like to do so - so, in short, she possibly wasn't best qualified to pass judgement...
...And, let's face it, she was most possibly envious and resentful of not being able to have kids of her own anyway...
...So, anyway, the apparent outcome was that such an aunt was under strict instruction never to return again - and she never did report mum(???) - so i guess, possibly upon later consideration, she decided, rightly, in my eyes at least, not to...
...Can you imagine what it may possibly have been like for us to have been taken away from such parents and possibly fostered out to possibly multiple strangers - silly would-be-meddling woman - sheesh, perish the thought eh...
There were also school memories whilst at such a farm also, of course...
The first school being my final primary school in Ollerton...
I can only remember going there for a short time, before moving on to Knutsford Secondary School, for a short time also...
I remember the primary school headmaster helping me to learn some new-to-me maths that he was surprised hadn't been taught at Ashley Primary School before i had left it...
And of the occasion when i was in the playground, stood with my back against one of the school walls, watching a really attractive blonde-haired girl enjoying playing on a swing - and of me, seemingly rather spontaneously, running up to her, kissing her onth cheek, and running back to where i had been stood - and of the headmaster, who had been unknowingly stood to the left of me, asking whether i would have kissed him had he been on the swing instead...
...Yeah, strange, i know - it was actually the very first time in my life that i can remember blushing - i think it's safe to say that such a completely unexpected question confused me somewhat...
And then there was the time that i was walking hand-in-hand with such a girl, towards her parents seemingly very close-to-school new looking bungalow - with her uncomprehending fairly young and attractive blonde-haired mother looking at us both in disbelief at such a seemingly completely unexpected sight of her daughter and similarly aged strange/unknown lad walking joyfully hand-in-hand towards her as she stood onth other side of a five-barred front wooden gate - some/such visual memories are simply priceless...
It was a primary school where i took my 11+ exams - an exam that resulted in a borderline result apparently - a result that apparently meant that i could either go to a grammar school or a secondary school...
In the event i was told by mum that such parents wouldn't be able to afford the grammar school uniform, so orft to Knutsford Secondary School i next went...
Twas a rather interesting first day - and was, in actual fact, the only memory i have of attending such a school - well, other than a single playground memory, anyway...
A school coach used to ferry quite a number of us both to and from such a school on a daily basis - onth first day i sat behind the driver, with a somewhat overweight lad sat next to the window beside me - i think that he may have liked to sit alone...
So anyway, after some words, he decided to spit at me - twas the only time that anyone had ever done such a thing to me - resulting in me simply mimicking him by repaying him in kind...
This had a rather surprising repercussion - for i was summoned into the headmaster's room/office - whereupon i was caned twice upon the palm of my right hand, before being sent back into class...
...I remember being sat behind a desk watching two rows of small blisters form along the red lines upon such a palm with a certain detached interest - and of me using the end of a fingernail to pop them / scrape them off - twas a somewhat interesting, completely non-emotional, experience...
And then the other memory being of me standing in the rather populated school playground with a bunch of similarly aged strangers - and of me seemingly Sensing being stared at rather intensely by another lad who was standing with another group of lads in another area of such a playground - and of me being inclined to walk over to him in confrontation, but then having the rather unexpected realisation that if i did so then my school-life would become one of fighting on an ongoing basis...
...What a strange thing to come into a young lad's mind eh - well, that's how it felt to me anyway - and thusly did i pay heed to such thoughts by resisting such a/an temptation/impulse...
...Which, in turn, brings another earlier memory to mind - one that took place whilst i was attending Ashley Primary School - a memory based upon a photograph that a member of my new 'gang' had taken of me whilst inth school playground one day...
...Twas of me with my fists up - the other lad had requested it seemingly - the only time a camera was ever brought into the school as i can remember...
...Anyway, i was given such a presumably later developed photograph by said lad to keep - and i proudly showed it to my dad - and this resulted in dad wishing me to take up boxing (he had done so himself whilst a physical training instructor inth army), but my mum stopping him from doing so, so i never did...
...Not that such a photo survived the process of time, of course...
And that brings me to the last indirect memory of being at such a final farm - apparently Pat(ch) couldn't come with us to our next home, for some unknown reason, so dad was going to put his 12-bore shotgun to use for one final time - however, after taking aim, he simply didn't have the heart to do it apparently, so such a fellow chicken coop building uncle offered to do so instead...
Farm life eh...
Anyway, moving forever onwards, our next move was to within one of a row of town houses situated on Palatine Road in Northenden - one that had a garage onth ground floor, and living accommodation above it, on an upper two floors i think...
...For dad had gotten himself a somewhat less physically demanding, and perhaps better paid, job as a ground-keeper at the nearby Withington Golf Club...
This, of course, necessitated yet another school for us all to move to - which, in my sister and i's case was to Yew Tree Comprehensive School - the school of the 'ant colony', as it seemed to me, such were the numbers of children that attended such a school...
It had actually started off as a somewhat smaller secondary school apparently - before the time two extra new buildings were added, presumably - the multi-floored, lift-incorporating (but only for the teachers) 'A Block', and the double-floored laterally larger oblong shaped 'B Block'...
...Whence upon it became the very first comprehensive school in the country, apparently - with the much older and presumably original main school building being then designated as 'C Block' - and another much smaller hut-type original building being (continued to be???) used for the teaching of 'remedial' pupils seemingly...
We didn't actually stay at such a town house for very long actually - before then moving on to live at the nearby Didsbury Golf Club - however, in both cases we remained as pupils at Yew Tree school, which was to be the final school both myself and my sister ever attended...
So i have very little memories of our stay at such a town house, actually...
One of them being the fascination of the heating system - which consisted of several near-floor vents, through which hot air used to flow, whenever needed i guess - one of the comparative luxuries of becoming a 'townie' eh...
With another, highly contrasting, memory of having my (new???) racing-style bike stolen from outside our garage - not long after getting it, seemingly - we, personally, never had to lock things/possessions up durinth day, so were pretty 'green' concerning such seemingly necessary precautions (or at least i was, anyway) ...
I remember going to the local police station with my dad in order to report such a theft - and of the police sergeant accompanying the pair of us downstairs to where a number of recovered bikes were stored - and of him seemingly trying to convince a rather confused me that one of them was possibly mine...
...An unrecognised and rather generous gesture that made me think that he may have been 'a couple of marbles short of an ally' lolz - causing me to deny such a suggestion rather firmly - with my watchful father, perhaps somewhat resignedly, no doubt thinking, 'yep, that's my boy' lolz (some things can be so funny to look back upon, can't they) ...
...Anyway, no doubt such a theft came as a relief to my, perhaps overly worrying, mother - who, perhaps understandably from a grown-up perspective, saw such a bike as being a potential death-trap for her (sometimes literally) absent-minded son - i simply wasn't used to cycling on such busy 'townie' roads after all...
There was a final memory that i can only assume occurred whilst at such a town house - twas of mum and me walking through the centre of Manchester, whereby 2/3 young men looked up and pointed inth air/sky as they were passing inth opposite direction - and of them all laughing at me for falling so gullibly and readily for their ploy - and of mum being annoyed at such gullibility and for causing her embarrassment, whereby i simply couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't do likewise under such a situation...
So, yeah, soon after we moved to the much more 'child-friendly' and personally appealing, Didsbury Golf Club - with many memories of such a stay having already been related within the 'A Golfing Journey' blog - however, there were some others that i didn't mention within such a blog...
One being of my 'no natural balance' mother getting herself an adult tricycle on which to cycle along Ford Lane to and back, upon the rare occasions that she decided to venture out alone to do some shopping in Northenden - resulting in such a tricycle being left in an old golf-trolley shed for much of the time, as it happened - who knows, maybe the locals/'townies' found such a rare sight to be embarrassingly (for my mum) openly amusing / attention attracting, eh...
The other being of how good the food was - and of how plentiful it was - with 'raids' into the freezer room for multiple scoops of Cornish ice-cream being a-plenty lolz...
And another of getting inappropriately dressed-up (with a much liked paisley cravat around my neck, together with accompanying brown tweed jacket, trousers and shoes) after having been invited to a council house near school by a group of same-year mixed-sex pupils during the day, inth summer holidays i think - with everyone else being normally dressed in their everyday relaxed clothing - and everyone giving me that 'weird' look and leaving me alone inth kitchen whilst they escaped intooth living-room...
...The embarrassing 'country yokel' huh...
...And, no, i never did get invited again, just in case you were wondering lolz...
...Personally i blame my non-savvy mum with her 'must look nice and presentable' conditioned attitude lolz...
...Tis funny how some childhood highly embarrassing episodes can be looked back upon with so much humour, in much later life, isn't it...
And then there was the time that a very attractive and forward girl (that my 'sex is dirty' mother disapproved of), that i can't remember having known before, turned up unannounced at such a golf club one day to see me - i remember taking her into the junior hut and of her sitting across my thighs in her free-flowing skirt, and me not having a clue of what to do lolz - talk about being 'green' eh...
And then, upon another occasion, going to the then (twas later turned into a Jehovah's Witness Centre) cinema in Northenden with another attractive girl from school - and of me lacking the confidence to kiss her onth face, so ending up repeatedly kissing her short-sleeved bare upper arm instead - sometime before she started going out with a really good-looking cool guy with a Lambretta scooter, in the year above...
...I actually met her, once again, at a school reunion, many many, years later - she still had the same outward-going personality and attractive face, but was surprisingly short and somewhat 'dumpy' - she later popped around to my place with a computer in need of repair, but i simply didn't fancy her any more, and was suffering from anxiety and depression problems at that time, so that was the last time i ever saw her...
...Some things are seemingly never meant to be are they - but they can still be looked back upon with a certain amount of, within acceptance, humour never-the-less - whereas, from her perspective, she was possibly left with, 'he was always a bit of a strange one' recollections...
The unexpected memories that can come back to you when you start writing/typing eh...
I also remember a ginger-haired lady who worked, for a time, as a waitress at said golf club - her husband was a window cleaner - and she, rather insistently, offering to give me a lift as i was walking down Ford Lane on my way to the afore-mentioned council house get-together, as she was driving inth opposite direction towards the golf club...
...And of me rather firmly telling her that i was quite okay walking thanks...
And talking of waitresses, another, rather attractive and self-confident, similarly buxomed one followed her - my dad had an ongoing affair with her - resulting in mum later sacking her...
...My dad was a very good looking guy with a nice way about him - and women found him to be very physically attractive also - so, being a fellow bloke especially, i find it very hard to find fault with him in such a respect, to be perfectly honest...
...We can all find ourselves open to temptation during certain periods of our lives, after all - temptations that may prove themselves to be particularly alluring within unsuited marriages, especially - and such situations are hardly one-way-street's after all, are they...
...Let he who is without sin, and all that business eh...
And talking about sin - there was the Dutch, very well dressed, left-handed gentleman that i used to caddy for on a fairly regular basis - who shocked my mum by asking whether he and some others could rent our living accommodation for the occasional sex party lolz...
My mum simply couldn't believe that he would ask such an audacious question - talk about her being shocked by such a request lolz - so, no, such 'parties' never did take place...
My 'Ali McGraw' look-a-like sister also started to attract attention from the males, whilst at such a golf club - one being the somewhat older Rowley - and another being Lindsey (a fellow 'big three' junior golf-playing member)...
...Both of whom she didn't fancy btw...
On another occasion several equally aged lads, including her then Steve McQueen look-a like, now husband, turned up one day - dad spotted them from his bedroom window, all walking away with my sister - causing him to go in pursuit rather pronto and to tell such lads to, possibly rather understandably, 'go take a hike', so to speak...
And then there was the occasion where my sister and a similarly aged female cousin (her parents were steward and stewardess at Gatley Golf Club during the same period of time) were given tickets to be part of the audience on 'Top Of The Pops', apparently - an invitation that my rather concerned mum didn't allow to take place - some may have thought she was simply being overly protective of course, whilst others may have deemed such actions to be wise ones perhaps...
From moving to Didsbury Golf Club to starting the 5th year, i think, dad drove my sister and myself to Yew Tree school and back home again each day - i think it's fair to say that had it not been for mum's insistence dad would have ended such a taxi/ferrying service much earlier - and i think that it is also fair to say that both my sister and myself would have much preferred it to have been that way...
...It was simply embarrassing for us both to have been seen by other pupils to be so mollycoddled - and dad's temper sometimes got the better of him also - like the time he got out of his car and started waving his fists at the driver in the queue to the left of us, causing us both to slink down in our rear seats in both embarrassment and nervous anxiety - i think said fellow commuter had tried to, unsuccessfully, gain an advantage, and thereby enraging dad in the process...
There was another similar occasion whereby i had been kept behind for detention by the history teacher for some now unknown reason - causing dad to storm into the classroom to give him a piece of his mind and demand my early release from such a singular detention - said history teacher went way up in my estimation due to the way he so calmly dealt/handled such a situation actually, although i still remained completely disinterested in such a subject...
The maths teacher also managed to turn me off from maths actually - for i used to simply write the answers down, instead of showing my workings, causing him to suspect that i had been cheating by copying the answers from the lad sat in front of me - twas something that both annoyed and confused me, as it would simply never have occurred to me to do such a thing...
...He actually went on to explain to me the process of showing such workings - and although i was in no sense whatsoever a maths prodigy, i simply couldn't believe that i had to slow down my thoughts to such an extent in order to show such workings line by line, and initially doubted whether i was even capable of doing so - it just seemed to be such an incredibly tedious thing to have to do...
...The outcome being that i simply elected to stare at the grass outside of the window i was sat next to and think about my golf swing as he rambled on - until his rather inevitable repeated shouts of BLAKE!!! brought my attention rather abruptly and nerve-janglingly back into the classroom - hence the reason why it took me three attempts to secure my later much needed 'o' level equivalent, under the tutelage of a much more interesting, newly arrived, female maths teacher...
I also managed to get the unwanted attention of the female art teacher, along the way - i assume she had simply told us to draw/paint whatever came into our heads basically, resulting in me drawing/painting increasingly larger skulls emerging from the depths of a cave - twas the rather quizzical/strange look that she gave me as she appraised such efforts from us all in turn as she walked around the classroom that made me think that i had drawn/painted something perhaps atypically inappropriate that caused me to not elect to continue with such a subject when the time came for us to elect what subjects (other than the core subjects) to continue with...
...I remember being rather pleased with such efforts, and enjoying such an indulgence, actually - but such a look simply took the wind out of my sails, causing me to seemingly being put off expressing myself in such a way ever again - twas a shame really...
I also remember the occasion whereby a number of us were sat around a large oblong table inth library - i think it may have been close to 'o' level time, with everyone apart from myself studying diligently - i noticed one book in particular that seemed to be beckoning to me by seeming to come out from the row of similarly bland looking ones either side of it...
...Anyway, without taking my eyes off it i stood up, walked over to it, and brought it back with me to investigate - only to find that it contained information regarding quite a number of prominent people from the past, such as Sir Isaac Newton, Leonardo Da Vinci, and others - i found it to be particularly interesting, as i had never before heard of such prominent people...
...Twas a book that piqued my interest, and one that in some way widened my perspective/understanding regarding the existence of such 'luminaries'...
Anyway, moving away from such schooling, i also remember mum's dad (Peter Blades) spending the final weeks(???) of his Earthly life at our Didsbury Golf Club home as he passed away with cancer - he had been a docker and had apparently handled a lot of asbestos - i rarely saw him so never really got to know him, although it would seem that he was very much liked by both mum and dad...
Inth morning, before school, during the time when Christine and i had started to buy some musical singles, we used to go into the clubhouse to play them on the musical system within the lounge - i remember when Christine had bought 'Je taime' and of how she became increasingly embarrassed listening to it within my company (twas an increasing 'awkwardness' that i simply sensed Vibrationally btw) - with my purchased selections being such recordings as Sugar Sugar by The Archers, Question by The Moody Blues whom i particularly liked, and Oh Well by Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac...
During one of such mornings i decided to put a couple of silver sixpences into the 'tic tac toe' machine, which we were under instruction not to play - and yep, you guessed it, i won the jackpot, resulting in dad telling me that i couldn't keep such proceeds as such winnings were for machine playing members to win - in the event he felt obliged to call the appropriate person out to put the money back into such a machine and to reset it ready for someone else to win...
I also remember being stood inth club carpark one evening with Lindsey, looking up into the clear star-laden night sky - Lindsay, who seemed rather familiar with star constellations, pointed out and named Orion as being his favourite - which then resulted in me picking out a constellation that Lindsay said was called Cassiopeia, as being my selected favourite...
And i also remember receiving some sex education from the comfort of our living room, as i watched a rather interesting itv(???) programme alone - and of dad walking in and seemingly finding it to be of similar interest - and of us both watching it together within a sort of uncomfortable silence for a while, and of me being surprised that he simply allowed me to continue watching it...
I think it was during the 5th year when i became friendly with the rather popular, and very generous-hearted, Pete Nedley - he would invite a number of us to his parents house for bacon/sausage butties during school lunchtimes for a short period of time - no doubt until his mother had noticed the obvious lack of such food items from the kitchen fridge eh...
...One of the lads had apparently had one of his kidneys removed, and had done a lot of work developing his stomach muscles - i remember one day in a part of the school playground area of him trying to get me to hit him hard in the stomach, but of me refusing simply because i felt sure that i would cause him considerable pain if i had done so - and of another occasion, as we were going to Pete's parents house, him wanting me to fight him, and me simply refusing to do so, as i had absolutely no reason to do so, so found such a request to be a rather strange/bizarre one...
...Pete was the guy that i think i may have mentioned within the A Spiritualist Journey blog offering - i had found out some years after having finished school that he had died as a teenager after his Lambretta scooter had hit a kerb close to his home, causing him to be propelled over the handlebars and his unhelmeted head to have impacted a concrete street light, killing him instantly, apparently - i had been told within one of the Spiritualist Churches that i used to attend that He was acting as a Healer for me, and had woken up one sunny afternoon after having taken an afternoon nap on the settee to see him very clearly and in full colour, momentarily, standing at my side reading a book...
And talking of fights, i remember one other such, so far unshared, occasion whilst at such a school...
The first of such occasions had an interesting build-up - a football playing lad from the year above, together with other lads from the same year used to sit on a long oblong school dining table next to the one myself and other lads from my year used to sit at - he had a habit of demanding that either the tureen of mashed potatoes or the pepper and salt were passed over to him...
...Twas something that used to annoy me, and something that i couldn't believe the other lads at our table used to accede to so readily, especially the bigger lads amongst us - i remember thinking that if he ever asked me then he was going to get a bit of a shock - and sure enough the day came when he did so, causing me, within seething anger to simply say 'get it yourself!!!', which he did...
...Anyway, this then led to a shoulder barging incident with him when neither of us would give ground as we passed each other along the corridor in 'C Block' - and this in turn then resulted in us squaring off against each other, with me poking him inth chest, calling him 'sunshine' and telling him to get onto the grass square next to us in order to sort it out, as you do, obviously - and of him saying that we would sort it out in Wythenshawe Park after school...
...Resulting in many many kids walking towards it after school on that Friday afternoon - and of a girl from the year below saying to me, 'you do know that you're going to get your head kicked in, don't you' - a possible outcome that had simply never occurred to me...
...Anyway, i decided that i didn't want to get into any unnecessary 'verbals' as a build-up to such a fight, and so simply surprised him by pushing him to the ground and straddling him before landing any blows - unfortunately i hadn't factored in his rather considerable superior strength into the equation, resulting in him propelling me backwards and the foot of one of his thick-thighed legs to come whizzing past my head at very close quarters - had i not been so fast it would have been game/fight over there and then...
...Anyway, we both got up off the ground and undoubtedly commenced throwing punches at each other - i say 'undoubtedly' simply because everything became a bit of a blur for me until i ran out of energy and elected to put my head into his stomach for a while whilst i regained some of my energies - deciding that any punches he threw from that point on would have little effect on me, which they didn't...
...And then the next moment the fight was stopped and some unknown lad told me that it was the fastest fight he had ever seen...
...I think it was possibly another of those occasions whereby i was shielded from the impact of any such blows by my, at that time unacknowledged/unrecognised, protective 'secret Ninja', for i sustained absolutely no damage whatsoever (indeed neither of us seemingly did), apart from a sore right wrist that prevented me from playing any golf that weekend...
I also remember having passed the Duke Of Edinbugh's Award at bronze standard, and having failed the silver standard due to having insufficient map-reading skills...
And, finally, whilst still at Didsbury Golf Club, i remember having attended a sixth form party whereby, i guess many of us, had become rather intoxicated...
Apparently i must have arranged my one and only sleepover, at Dave's (the fellow sixth former who had taught me to play chess) parents house in Moss Side, resulting in the pair of us walking towards it down one side of a duel carriageway called Princess Parkway...
Anyway, we had gone inside a telephone kiosk along the way for some unknown reason, which had resulted in me, rather uncharacteristically, pulling out the integrated mouth and earpiece, and putting in down the front of my fairly tight-fitting windjammer top - whereupon we walked a little further to where a wooden bench was situated onth pavement next to a bus stop - whereupon i noticed a large full moon hanging in the clear night sky...
...Resulting in me deciding that it needed moving 90 degrees in order that any passers by could sit and watch such a full moon head-on, as you do, obviously...
...Anyway, half way through repositioning such a wooden bench, i was facing back up Princess Parkway and noticed a blue and white police mini car coming towards us - resulting in me telling Dave to move it back back to its original position, and saying that we would simply tell the police that we had found it in that position and was merely putting it back in its rightful position, if/when asked, as you do, obviously - good plan huh...
...Anyway this is what i explained to the younger police officer when he exited said police car and stood, rather challengingly, directly in front of me - 'are you pissed, sonny' was his no compromising reply - something that caused me some confusion, as i couldn't believe that he would think that i would do such a thing otherwise - so after a short delay spent considering such a question, i simply replied, 'of course i am'...
...A reply that seemed to stop him in his tracks, with no ready reply whatsoever - at which point in time his observing senior 'flat cap' superior intervened - a much more reasonable, non-aggressive, chap indeed...
...So anyway he asked where we we going, and where i lived - with me readily supplying him with the required answers - 'well make sure you get there without further incident' was his reply before the two of them returned to their police car, turned around, and went back towards the direction they had come from...
...With me, very shortly afterwards, realising that i had the telephone headset stuffed down my windjammer, and throwing it like a hot potato into the nearby Southern Cemetery - whereby i explained to Dave that one of the dead people may wish to speak to one of their remaining relatives, as you do, obviously - talk about portentous/future symbolic gestures eh...
...It turned out to be a very narrow escape indeed really, for if the younger (trainee???) police officer hadn't of stood so close to me and hadn't been so fixated on my face/eyes then he would surely have detected such a bulge protruding from the front of said windjammer...
So anyway, our next, whilst still at school, move took us all to Stretford British Legion Club, where mum and dad were stewardess and steward respectively - it was either here or whilst we were still at Didsbury Golf Club where i properly appraised my physical face in the bathroom mirror for the first time - an occasion when i truly realised the disappointment at the face reflecting back at me through such a mirror...
...A moment of fairly deep sadness really - of course i have since realised that i am seemingly much better looking when i am out of my physical body - and of course it is always important to understand that all things tend to be comparative, so much better than being the other way round, say i, smilingly...
My younger brother and i shared a fairly large bedroom whilst housed in the semi-detached house that was situated next to such a British Legion club - and i remember the wallpaper being fairly drab - and of hanging some large, more colourful, flowery wallpaper on one of the walls, in order to uplift it visually...
...Twas my first experience of hanging wallpaper - and one that i gained praise from my mother for, so it helped fill me with a sense of pride/worthiness/satisfaction, to a certain extent at least...
Twas also the place where i invited the grandson of Winston Churchill round for a chat whilst he was campaigning - an occasion whereupon mum brought out her best china when serving tea and biscuits - and an occasion whereby i was invited to join the Young Conservatives in their weekly(???)/monthly(???) evening meetings in a room within Stretford Town Hall...
...I actually only attended once, as i rather quickly realised that the rather self-conscious, non-flowing, atmosphere i experienced there wasn't the most conducive to welcoming debate - i think perhaps that in reality i simply wasn't that interested in such things - who knows, maybe if i had persevered i would have eventually warmed to it...
It was during such a time that i had a rather unsettling experience - i have no idea what caused it - but i simply remember having had a strong need to get out of school rather quickly due to having suffered some sort of panic attack, and nothing more...
...So can only only remember being outside of school with the need to get home - and that i simply couldn't face the thought of either being close to or interacting with people - so i simply walked all the way home, went into my bedroom, closed the curtains, and went to bed...
...I didn't want to speak/interact with anyone, and when mum came in i simply told her to go away and leave me alone...
...Of course a visit to the local GP was arranged, whereby the GP initially saw both of us, then me alone, and finally mum alone...
...Apparently mum was asked if i had ever had a girlfriend, whether i had any sort of regular social life, and one other now unremembered question - with the answer to all three questions being 'no' - causing said GP to apparently decide that this was the cause of such problems...
...Whereas i would now suspect that it was simply the shock to my system that a sudden lack of countryside / grassy areas caused to my system perhaps...
...All that i really know is that it was a very unsettling episode/experience indeed...
However, seemingly soon afterwards things changed, for i got myself a 'proper' girlfriend (Marga) and a social life started to emerge - and i got myself a part-time job at a petrol station at weekends in order to earn myself some money whilst still in the 6th form - so this was the time i established myself as no longer being a child...
...In fact in order to establish this very firmly (for my mother's benefit especially), i simply met up with a group of guys one evening, stayed out all night without phoning home (as requested by mum), and simply listened to music, smoked some pot, and returned home the next morning to an awaiting worried mum, whom i didn't feel the slightest inclination to apologise to - i simply wished to make a point that i was no longer a child, and had no intention of being treated like one any longer - job sorted...
...I remember mum wishing to meet Marga, resulting in the three of us having a 'meeting' in the front room one day - and of mum taking exception to her after learning that her mother was German - mum had been a child during the war and had experienced bombing so had been conditioned to very much dislike Germans generally...
...Needless to say, Marga never visited again - although we didn't allow such an incident to adversely affect our developing relationship in the slightest - twas simply that mother never again became part of the equation...
Others memories, prior to leaving school, included listening to albums by Pink Floyd, Deep Purple, and Melanie Safka in the rear room through headphones with the lights switched off whilst laying on the carpeted floor; playing footsie with Michelle in the 6th form silent room; being rather reluctantly cast as one of the ugly sisters in 'Oh What A Lovely War'; and camping in tents with others in a field next to a stream in Edale one weekend...
And that, i think, brings such chosen to share childhood recollections to a final end, dear reader of these words...
So, in summation, it is very clear to me that my mother represented the 'heart' and my father represented the 'mind' within such a family life - and that my mother's heart was a somewhat injured one, mainly due to her childhood wartime experiences, but also due to the fact that her mother left the family unit at some point, and that her Roman Catholic experiences played a part also, resulting in her changing her religious allegiances in favour of the Church Of England instead - and that my father's 'mind', although he was an intelligent man, was somewhat hampered/limited due to a lack of education...
...Neither parent was particularly political - in fact my father didn't seem to show any political inclinations whatsoever - whereas my mother, rather surprisingly given her 'sex is dirty' attitude actually, seemingly simply voted for the Liberal Party during every election, without seemingly giving the matter any thought whatsoever...
So what were the immediate effects of such a childhood for me upon entering early adulthood, the reader of these words may ask...
...To which i would answer that it resulted (during my late teens) in me very clearly vowing not to have any children of my own, as i realised that i simply wouldn't make a good father, and that i simply wouldn't wish to transfer what i very much saw as a miserable childhood onto anyone else - and because such a childhood couldn't in any way be described as a joyful one, i simply didn't see the marriage route as being in any way appealing to me whatsoever - which, in a way, paved the way for a much more self-determining, comparative freedom-appreciating, lifestyle i guess, if only more so within later years...
...I think that it is fair to say that i had an injured 'heart' to contend with, due to being an unplanned and unwanted child - but that was possibly exacerbated due to my seemingly very wilful 'fuck you, too late' response to mum after she had seemingly emerged from what i suspect was a perhaps rather understandable, given the circumstances, bout of post natal depression - and i think that being energetically infused with my father's strictness and his bouts of anger throughout such a childhood took its toll also...
So do i in any way blame my mother and father for seemingly handicapping me due to experiencing such a childhood???...
I would answer such a question by saying that i think that sometimes people are too readily eager to blame parents for their own short-comings - for what has to be realised is that our parents have been subject to their own childhood parental conditionings also - and that perhaps only a few of us emerge into adulthood unscathed from such generational/circumstantial conditionings...
...Twas simply the childhood that i was born into - and, who knows, maybe it was a childhood that i agreed/chose to be born into - all that i can say for sure, rightly or wrongly, is that i very much feel that, all things being equal, i will return Home, after having shed my mortal coil, having made some progress along the Evolutionary Path - and that this will have been very much aided by reaching a point in my early thirties whereby i asked that seemingly very fateful question of 'surely there must be more to life than this???'...
...An answered question that very much showed me that there indeed was/is, by firmly putting me on what is generally described as the Spiritual Path - something that, had i experienced a more favourable childhood, would possibly not have led me along such a Path - so, although it is difficult for me to describe such a life as being a particularly easy one, i see the entering of such a Spiritually inclined Path as being a very positive outcome really...
...I feel sure that upon returning Home and having had my life Review everything will fall into place, and such experiences will thus make much more sense to me and i will very much count my blessings within such a respect...
...For i could have been born into a family that, on the face of it, could have initially seemed to be, perhaps much, more preferable - but one that could have hampered such supposed Spiritual Growth/understanding - or indeed one that proved itself to be very debilitating indeed...
...So, if you are able, always try to count your blessings, rather than, perhaps much more conveniently, too readily directing blame towards others, say i...
So what other achievements has such a life fostered, the reader of these words may enquire...
Well, my brother, although married, is also childless - and my sister, by marriage, entered a different family line of course - so, between the both of us, my brother and i are responsible for having pruned one particular branch of the Blake family tree...
...Without knowing why particularly, tis something that i find to be rather amusing(/self-satisfying???) actually...
https://www.ourquantumparticulates.org/videos/the-childhood-years
Addendum at 5 September 2024...
Since publishing such a blog some other recollections have occasionally come to mind, so i thought i would include them now before i forgot to do so...
1) Apparently mum when through a phase during her pregnancy with me whereby she had a craving to suck on chunks/pieces of coal for a while, and so did so...
2) Mum coming into my and my brother's bedroom whilst she was employed at Stretford British Legion, whereby she would tuck the bedsheets and blankets tightly under three sides of the mattress - with me putting them back where i had preferred them to be, as soon as she left the bedroom and went into her's and dad's, in preparation for bed herself - i was a very light sleeper, with even the switching on of the lightbulb via the light-switch bringing me immediately back into a very clear state of consciousness, so simply pretended to still be asleep whenever she did so...
3) Dad and mum arguing in their bedroom at Stretford one night and of a bedroom window smashing just after mum had cried out, before everything then going quiet - and of a protective minded me getting out of my bed and standing in front of their closed bedroom door wishing to enter, but of being too scared to do so, and so returning to my bedroom once again, perhaps upon hearing some sounds once again(??? - i can't remember the exact details any more), and feeling somewhat disappointed in myself for not having had the courage of my convictions...
...To be completely fair, this was the only occasion that i can every recollect such a thing having ever happened, and apparently dad had imbibed in too much rum, which could apparently cause him to become violent, given the right conditions arising (i think he then became very mindful of this, so never drank it ever again, or very much moderated it, at least - he was a good man with good values basically - my 'hero' figure actually, mainly due to his very capable and protective instincts towards his children whenever certain external situations arose involving others (perceived threats), and a parent that i very much favoured, as his logical/practical mindset very much made sense to me, whereas my mother's mindset simply didn't lolz, as, in all honesty, i sometimes used to find her said mindset to have been rather confusing/illogical, upon occasion at least, so sometimes found it somewhat difficult to make sense of her words, upon occasion at least lolz) ...
4) This is an embarrassing one - apparently i used to sleep-walk - and upon one occasion, whilst at Stretford, i apparently got out of my bed somnambulantly, walked out of the bedroom door and turned right instead of left, then walked into my sister's bedroom and peed into her clothes cupboard, before simply walking out and returning to my bed once again (a big oops moment huh) ...
5) Another, rather personally embarrassing one - i was a bit of a bed-wetter, for some considerable time actually - and with that 'we' (the usage of the royal 'we(e)' eeh lolz) will choose to move rather swiftly on yeah) ...
And that's about it actually - for now at least, anyway - for who knows what, if any, further chosen-to-share recollections, may arise in the future eh...
2nd Addendum at 20 September 2024...
This additional childhood remembrance seemingly spontaneously came to me a few days ago, when i remembered mum showing me a photograph of myself (possibly over 25 years ago now) as a toddler - whereby i was apparently walking down/up the path that presumably ran from the house to the presumed gate at the front of the presumed garden of the property where we were living at that particular time (i can no longer recall all the details of such a photo, hence the multiple presumptions) - anyway, twas a black and white photo whereby i was presumably wearing a top of some sorts, as well as a, presumably cotton, towelling nappy...
During the sharing of such a photo of me mum told me that whenever i poo'd into said nappy i would lift and shake one of my legs/feet in an attempt to remove presumed (singular???) lumps of said poo from said nappy - with the witnessing of such unsuccessful attempts apparently providing mum with numerous occasions of much humour - i think such humour was possibly further aided by my observed confusion(???) as to why such presumed (singular???) lumps of poo couldn't be released by myself via such apparently repeated attempts???...