It was a modern 1930's house, and we lived there for only eleven months. Because we only lived there for such a short time, I remember lots of things that happened in my life while I was there, and know that they must all have been happening at exactly the same time. A single summer, and then a winter. I had just turned thirteen. This is the house where I acquired my demon.
I lost interest in school work. I began to change into jeans as soon as I got home. I remember my school tie coiled on the table, my homework waiting to be done. I started to listen to the radio, instead of watching television with my parents. I remember the portable radio, and the cassette recorder for recording John Peel shows.
I remember my bedroom in that house. The vinyl on the floor. The shiny magazines with pictures of glamorous women. I remember the girlie magazines I bought on the covered market, and hid in the pillars of the railway bridge. I remember half-naked women and diesel trains, and synthesizers and loud guitars.
(The half-naked women were pretend, but the trains were real.)
I remember the garden, too. But I'll tell you about that tomorrow.
3 comments:
I like your memories! Sometimes I remember details of long and ever ago and I wonder if I will ever think that thought again. The details are slipping away. I should do what Paul did -write my memoirs.
Yes, you should. And keep a pad by the bed and write as soon as you wake. Write what's present to you, and then you will still know it when it's gone again.
"Wedding. baby. Wimbledon." I went to the wedding today. The bride looked beautiful on a tractor, and her dress hid the baby very well. I will blog about Wimbledon in Pt 2 of this post.
I lived all my childhood in the same house and so the memories have merged and I can't tell what happened when.
I'm trying to think whether I'd have thought of a 1930s house as modern when I was growing up. I don't think I would, and yet I'm older than you.
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