A conversation between Alison and I has sparked memories for me of a wonderful childhood, and I haven’t been able to shake myself out of this frame of mind. To put it into context, the conversation revolved around Dads house. It’s now 2.00 am and I’m struggling to sleep as I keep reliving years past. There are no photos and no profound message but……………………
I’m hoping this might get some things out of my system.
I grew up in a small town in County Durham; in one of its suburbs, called Moorside. Mum and Dad were great parents, and since Mum passed away Dad has been great for my brother and I.
The house is full of memories; I lived for over 20 years in that house, right up till the day I got married to Alison. It was there that I used to play tennis against the wall of Mr and Mrs Chiltern never appreciating how the constant ‘thwack’ of the ball would annoy them. It was there that I successfully broke the dining room window, again with a tennis ball where I missed the part of the wall I was aiming at.
It was in that same garden where I camped for the first time and it was the house and more specifically that I returned to after having all my teeth removed at the age of 10 as they’d never developed beyond baby teeth. On that settee I was to drink soup for several weeks ! Indeed, it was to that settee that I returned on several occasions after some sort of surgery on teeth, ears, nose and eyes. There it was where, in order to cure my ‘lazy’ eye (now recognised as blind because I was born with an undiagnosed cataract) that they covered my good eye with a patch. The intention was to force what they assumed was a lazy eye into working but no-one could understand wy I kept walking into things.
The house was the scene of many birthday parties and other occasions including the one where I held a fancy dress party for my friends. I turned up as Mark Spitz, the olympic swimmer in nothing but my speedos and seven supposedly gold medals. I still have the embarrassing photo which was taken at an inappropriate angle making it look as though I was naked.
It was at the foot of the stairs where I opened the fateful envelope on my ‘o’ levels (GCSEs these days) and discovered I hadn’t done as well as I’d hoped and it was precisely on that bottom step that Mum hugged me and told me to believe in myself.
I brought home two girlfriends to meet Mum and Dad, but the great delight was bringing Alison home, where Mum and Dad took to her immediately. I can still remember Mum standing at the kitchen sink telling me how beautiful Alison was; Alison still refuses to believe it, but to me it’s true. I don’t think Alison was ever formally invited into the family as Mum and Dad took it for granted, even offering her a house key when we first started courting, much to her amazement.
I remember the time Mum and Dad went away and Mum left strict instructions that Alison and I weren’t to get up to anything. Alison came to visit on the first day I was left on my own and as we watched telly the light bulb went. I went to retrieve a new one and promptly proceeded to change the bulbs, forgetting to turn the light switch off. Of course the new bulb suddenly came on, I got a shock and dropped it, whereby it smashed off the side of the dining room chair I was standing on and shattered all over Mu and Dads deep pile carpet. I hoovered every day for that week to ensure no glass was left, and when they got home they were seriously impressed by how tidy the house was. I think Alison came down every day after work to help me do it.
Or the time my mate Guiness and I were left on our own and we tried to recreate a scene from Batman. I leapt over the sofa and landed on Mum and Dads plastic coffee table (they were all the rage those days) and shattered it into I don’t know how many pieces.
Thinking back to the kitchen I can still remember the excitement when my brother, Andrew, brought home a microwave oven. Alison, her brother Stuart and I stood and watched a potato revolve inside and we were amazed at the miracle cooking before us. Even though we couldn’t see anything but the potato it still seemed a wonderful moment.
Much of Dads house still contains items of real nostalgia for me, and I’m still determined to find the bottle green platform boots I ‘borrowed’ off my brother and never quite got round to returning !
It was from my bedroom that I planned out the Chapel plays we used to perform, jotting down ideas and thoughts. Again Dad was a great support as we stored many scene flats in his garage for a few years. That same bedroom saw me dressing up as David Bowie and ‘performing’ in front of the mirror as Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane and Jean Genie, moving on later to Freddie Mercury knowing that I had the rest of Queen hidden around the bedroom. Yes, I even used the mythical hairbrush as my microphone. Dad still has the same mirror but I’m resisting the temptation now.
The last time I was to leave my home was on the day of my marriage to Alison, and I left to the wise words of my Mum “as you leave this house you’re my son but you’ll return as Alisons husband”. In her way she was handing me over to the woman I loved and the woman she loved and trusted entirely.
These are only a few of my memories, and believe me there are many many more; some good and some bad but thanks to the love of the people around me that house was the scene where I put down the roots, foundations for the rest of my life. One day the house will be sold but I will always look back fondly on it.
If you’ve got to this end of the entry, thanks for putting up with my nostalgia, and I hope and pray that your childhood was as good as mine.