Return of the myth

So it happened one day all i remember is a knock at the door and voices talking, couldn’t understand what the man was saying it sounded so strange. I was called into the kitchen that was scary enough in itself, my mothers cooking was awful, always broths and stews filled with barley. Years later when i met my brother again he told me how when they were moving from the flat to a house they moved the fridge and found what looked like a wasps nest of barley stuck to the grills behind it, our secret place to dispense of that fowl tasting ingredient, as with my mother if you didn’t eat it the first time it would be there every meal time until you did. At least i left them something to remember me by. Into the kitchen i went and this huge man was there jet black hair and moustache, wearing tracksuit bottoms and a jumper, Chris mum said this is your father and you are going on holiday with him. The man walked towards me and said what i think was hello, i had never really heard a welsh accent before. By the side of him was a woman, with an hour glass shaped body and a big mop of fuzzy hair. She didn’t say much at all but i understood hello and another boy a bit bigger than me. Well not much time to pack then if i am going on holiday, but surprise surprise my bags were ready, not understanding really what was going on and thinking where are my brother and sister are they not coming after all it was there dad too. So not even saying goodbye to my step dad, brother, step brother and  sister i was walked out of the door with my dad this woman and the boy and a duffle bag on my back into the back of a ford anglia and was sat down next to the other boy. I do remember my mum saying have an nice holiday and that was it door closed, car started and off down the road we went. I cannot recall looking behind at my mum or even thinking about where i was going and who are these people, i suppose it was what i was used too by now and just waited to see where we were going. The journey seemed like an eternity, if you have driven as an adult from Kent to the middle of North Wales you will understand, if you haven’t then make sure you take your ipod full of music its a long trip. But to a child it seemed like days and not knowing or being able to see because of the dark made it worse i suppose. So i am on holiday, when i wake up the beach will be there , sandcastles and ice cream i cant wait I am excited but tired , I will go to sleep and wait till the car stops hopefully it will be light and i can play straight away, yes the thought was there but the best was yet to come.

Reflection

I sit here today reflecting on what i have written and then what to write next, the questions who am i , who have i become, would i have been a different person under different circumstances. So before i continue my tale I will reflect on the early years a little.

Let’s see memories,

Sad ones first, pain, abuse, not being loved, loneliness, confused, scared and scarred. Funny but these are feelings that you really cant put down to a particular point in time or place as they stay with you from whenever it happened and carries in your subconscious as a part of your being and who you are. But if i try the happy ones not so many but a point and time, faces and names stay with me.

Meeting Jeffrey, Jane and Freddy from the television show rainbow in a fete in South London and still having the photo, a dog called benji who chewed on my shoes every morning till there was nothing left. Holding hands at bedtime from the top bunk to the bottom bunk with the daughter of the couple from London feeling safe. So at this time even after what had happened so far on the outside i seemed a normal little boy, curly hair beaming smile and piercing green eyes i was told, but still clingy to people who showed me affection and why not i deserved it. School was ok i made friends and still remember names but i didn’t like p.e lesson times as i had to put shorts on and the scars where still evident then and occasionally the fingers would point as children do and the word yuk would appear from someone’s mouth and the smiling and gradually growing confident little boy would retire back to his quiet shell. Children are unfair but they have an excuse its all about growing up and learning. I had met good people and bad people, but as most of my small life had been so far there always seemed to be a suitcase nearby ready to be packed.

So on with the next chapter of my journey a few memories to get thru yet.

 

Camping out

Fancy a game of cricket my brother said one night when we where in our bedroom, pillow cricket with a sponge ball. I should have said no, after all he was always getting me into trouble, One such time comes to mind, stealing milk and bread from the doorstop of the flats and then going into the clothes line area at the top of the tower and stuffing ourselves senseless with bread milk and yogurt. Until the day somebody caught us and we ran and of course he was faster than me and left me behind and i was cornered by this angry faced man on the stairwell, so i headed for the nearest opening i could find and jumped out of it, trouble was it was the first floor window and i broke my leg, serves me right but as usual my brother got away with it he always did. But back to the cricket so i said yes and off we go him with the pillow on one bed, me on the other with the sponge ball, it took a while for me to catch the ball as there was no way i was running off the bed or the screaming from downstairs to shut up would come and nobody wanted that. So my turn I’ll keep him waiting as long as he did to me, he’s never going to catch it. So pillow at the ready watching for the ball, yes i hit it. and it does not bounce off the curtains it goes thru them and the sound of smashing glass rings round the room. Stunned silence for a second, what happened, then the footsteps came a running upstairs, we didn’t move, couldn’t move the fear was upon us. The door burst open and she came in screaming, what words it doesn’t matter, my ears had deafened to what was said any more, you just waited for the hurt instead. In her hand was a cricket ball, a real ball, a hard ball, he has done it again duped me but this time it backfired on him. The heads were knocked together and the hair was pulled with the body’s following down the stairs and out of the backdoor into the small space called if you will the garden over looking the green in the centre of the tower blocks. There we sat till morning and the next night and every night for the next two weeks, so you could say it was my first experience of camping out, but these days I prefer to like to take a sleeping bag with me to keep warm of an evening.