Categories: uncategorized
Date: 04 August 2008 19:44:57
If I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, gentle readers, I must confess that I don't remember a huge amount from the day I was born. However, I have it on good authority that, shortly before lunchtime on the 28th August 1978, I finally decided it was time to say hello to everyone. Although it took me a long while before I could actually say anything, of course. In the meantime, I waited for my dad to pick up his new son for the first time; and when he did, I proceeded to perfectly aim my first wee straight into his trouser pocket, rendering most of the money in his wallet unusable. I think this was the last time he allowed me to p*ss away his money...
Anyway, within a few days we were all back home (a modest but nice terraced house in a still-pretty-new village near Cambridge) and I was getting to know these strange people called my family - two big people called Mummy and Daddy, and a rather smaller person called Tina. Mummy seemed to spend all her time at home getting things for me; Daddy put on a shirt and tie (and trousers) most days and went out in the morning, only to come back just in time for tea; and Tina went to something called "school" which didn't sound very exciting.
Over the next few years, I got to meet some more of the family. There were two people called Nanna and Grandad, who lived in a flat in the village, and another two people called Nanna and Grandad who lived in Northampton and who we'd occasionally go and see. Sadly, Grandad K (dad's dad, in the village) passed away not long before my first birthday, and I have no memory of him at all. But I always liked visiting Nanna K (she had lots of chocolate) and she'd indulge my, already somewhat active imagination - leading to the often repeated family story where I pretended to drive Nanna around in a car and, trying to remember what I'd seen dad doing while driving, proceeded to shout at a passing imaginary motorist, "OI!! Get over, you pillock!!!" Luckily, Nanna found this kind of funny.
Going to see Nanna and Grandad P was also lots of fun, although occasionally a bit traumatic. At the age of about two, I was sat in my buggy being pushed through Wicksteed Park in Northampton on a family day out; Nanna and Grandad had given me some bread to throw to the ducks and swans. Sadly, I only had stumpy little arms at the time, and I threw like a girl. As a result, nearly all of the bread ended up in my lap. Still, the geese weren't fussy, and went for the bread anyway - much to my horror, as I found myself being attacked from all sides by snapping beaks. I can look back and laugh now, although that's mainly due to many hours of expensive therapy sessions...
All in all, I had a very happy childhood. I went to play group with mum, which I really enjoyed; I got to make friends and climb on climbing frames and paint with string and bits of potatoes, while mum got to sit and watch me, which I'm sure was thrilling for her. And then, one day I wasn't going to play group anymore. Now I got to go to school, like Tina did. It was the end of the start of my life... (ooh, that sounds a bit pretensious, doesn't it? Good, though. I think I'll keep it in.)