wallacepolsom
oozey mess
we're not kids anymore.
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Andulka
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
styofa doing anything
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
h
cherry valley forever
YOU ARE THE REASON
Jules of Nature
Cosimo Galluzzi
Janaina Medeiros
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Three Goblin Art
titsay
Misplaced Lens Cap
seen from Italy
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@cogitoergohum
My memoirs. Memory 18. Attraction
Technically, I’ve been engaged to be married three times. The first time was more an ultimatum than a proposal. There was never a ring. The embers of that relationship cooled to nothing shortly afterwards. The second time was a rather dramatic apology for an affair. There was a ring made out of twigs. The next affair revealed itself while the half made wedding dress hung in the wardrobe. The…
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My Memoirs. Memory 17. Alcohol
Go hard or go home. Anything sinful, bad for you, against public healthguidelines: if you’re going to go in go in deep. A salad bag from McDonalds? I’m not here for the 5 a day. A vape? I’m not here for tutti fruity. An alcopop? A low percent wine? A no percent beer? No. Thank. You.. My first tippsy time was on a fourth year (yr 10) school trip to Belgium. Someone declared the pubs had a…
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My Memoirs. Memory 16. The Big White Van
When we were still quite small, Mum and Dad bought a VW camper. Not the 1960s split screen model but only a little newer and still one of those ones that are coveted these days. I am not sure that I recall the first time we went out with it but I feel like I do because mum and dad tell the tale of heading out to Wales, Angelesy in it and it rained…and rained…and rained. What I do remember is…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 15. Music.
Unlike my Dad, I wouldn’t win many pub quizes, I can’t just pick up a guitar and get a decent tune out of it and I can’t tune things or harmonise by ear. But just like me Dad, god golly I love the music.. My Dad came of age when the Beatles starting making a noise and I don’t think any of us who weren’t around at the time will every fully appreciate the shift it what it was to grow up pre and…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 14. A little bit poorly
I’m a little bit poorly today. It got me thinking of the other times I’ve been a little bit poorly. Because I’m a little bit poorly, I can’t think much beyond that. So here are memories of being a little bit poorly. When I lived in the shop, in the bedroom with the blue hue, tucked in tight beneath the sheet. A cold. I got hold of the tub of Vicks and rubbed it all over little ted, my cuddly.…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 13. Chlorine
I’m not a small girl. Five 10 in flats, sturdy legs, broad shoulders. On land I can be clumsy, uncoordinated. When quite young I went to gymnastics: the head coach pulled my mum to one side and in a Gray’s Anatomy tone cast his eyes downwards and whispered, “we don’t think she’ll ever walk on the beam.” But in the water? In the water I can fly. For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved being…
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My Memoirs. The Microwave.
I remember the arrival of the microwave in our Rotherham home more vividly than I rember the arrival of my two brothers. I love my brothers a lot. The lights and sounds of the microwave felts like a logical, high tempo next step in the family kitchen where eating mid week felt chaotic at the best of times. Milk would be left out. Crumbs would gather. My brother and I could be found arguing about…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 11. Secondary School
Where primary school was sunshine and cherry blossom punctuated with moments of pure, white snowfall, secondary school was foggy and damp and biting cold. And I am not just saying that for dramatic effect: it struck me smack between the eyes when I sat down to write this that the meteorological backdrop of my attending Wickersley comp reads ‘gloomy’. I hated secondary school. Six weeks earlier,…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 10. Kylie Minogue
When Kylie thought maybe she fancied Jason Donavon in real life, I thought maybe I might did too. When Kylie met Michael Hutchinson and found out what it was like to totally fancy someone, I was totally finding out what it was to fancy someone when I was listening to Michael Hutchinson. When Kylie was at the pinnacle of her Indi career, floating around on a stream with Nick Cave, I was wading…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 9. Death
We went to a funeral today so now’s as good as time as any to bring up the thing that brings life meaning, right. PS, might mention suicide. Not sure yet. Let’s start writing and see…. Death’s coming at us not thick and fast but thicker and faster. Two years ago, I went to five weddings. This year, two funerals and at least one more likely before Christmas. There’s a film in there somewhere, but…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 8. Grandma
Towards the end of Junior school, the teachers started to strike a lot. They still did the standard lessons but nobody was around for extra curricular stuff like the end of year play or certain lunch times. For lunch times, therefore, we had to head home. I am not sure if it was every lunchtime of Fridays. I assume it was Fridays because I’d head to Grandma’s and she’d make me fish and chips. It…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 6. Primary School
Free from hormones, free from hang ups, free from trying to fit in, free from worrying about the future and not having enough past to regret anything? Primary school was a blast. Primary school was actually an infant and junior school. Different Heads, different buildings but on the same large plot of land. Both felt like they had large playgrounds and large fields. We’d sit making daisy chains…
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Chapter 6: Home
For the rest of my childhood and until I left for Uni at 18, that three bed semi was my home. My parents still live there now. When we moved in, the front garden had a well in it over which was a little structure with a roof and what looked to be a mechanism for a bucket that I was hopeful we’d be able to turn to retrieve our own, fresh water. I was baffled as to why my Dad ripped it out and…
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Chapter 5: Early Years in Rotherham
I don’t think it was moving out of a home shared with Nanna and Grandad that caused Rotherham to feel more chaotic than the shop. I think it was more the arrival of my two brothers. I can’t really remember J____ and B_____ arriving. It’s as if the outline of them was always there and slowly got coloured in. And colorful they were, especially under the bright lights of our new home: a three up…
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My Memoirs. Chapter 4. Nanna and Grandad
I feel kinda a bad that so many of my memories of early childhood centre Nanna and Grandad rather than Mum and Dad. I guess it’s kinda how it works in an extended family upbringing. Given the dynamics of the shop, I spent a lot of time in the family part of the premises with Nanna. I remember the suppers and just being in the kitchen with her while she baked or cooked and washed up. With…
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My Memoirs Chapter 3: The Shop
It was on a main road, a friendly looking build constructed of (I think) Limestone. I remember bottle green playing a role. Was that the windows? The door? The sign above the door reading “Hopkins and Houghton” ? There were one or two polished, worn stone steps; polished from footfall rather than any scrubbing, as far as I recall. They led to the shop door that rang a bell each time it swung…
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My Memoir. Chapter 2. Coal.
It’s hard to get the residue of coal off your chest. Perhaps that’s why I always feel obliged to try so early on in any anectode I start to tell. I am not here to speak On Behalf of the Working Class Experience. For much of my time growing up – most in fact – we weren’t working class anyways (although my mum would argue differently ‘it’s an attitude, Abby; an outlook’). I don’t know exactly how…
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