Tuesday 9 February 2010

memories


So, today after an inspiring chitty chat, I have found a surge of confidence I havn't felt before. And so there will be many more of these bloggings now because I'm on a roll! (egg and bacon haha).
Today the excercises on accessing memory set me going and now I cant stop thinking about my own childhood which caused me to trip up several times on my walk home from uni to the fabulous suburb of Handsworth. This may not seem like a huge deal but tripping up in Handsworth can be life threatening if you fall on a used condom or a nice glob of fresh spit glinting in the spring sunshine.
It got me thinking about other people too. I've always been interested in other people's stories and lives and often like to make their biographies up in my head. The walk home certainly lets me use my imagination to the point where the weird thoughts might spill over out of my ears onto the grubby pavement. There are so many queer folk around here. Not queer as in gay because quite frankly to look homosexual around here just wouldnt earn you any brownie points at all. No, i mean queer as in bizare, freaky and strange.
Sometimes I think its safer to imagine their backgrounds than to actually find out the truth because I suspect that I probably wouldnt sleep for a week after knowing. For example, 3 doors down is who I like to call "Running Man" although its not so much of a run, as a quick limp. He "runs" everwhere with a Tescos plastic bag and I dont know whats in it (although addmittedly ive tried to sneek a look as he's ambled past) but to no avail. He is a mystery.

Before I find out about these funny people I live amongst I need to find out about myself. And that involves ALOT of self indulgant sitting and thinking. About ME! I'm sure I'll survive...

Here is wot I writ today. A snippet of a memory from my first childhood home. Look out for more self analysis and strange stories from my neighbourhood sooooon...


Honeysuckle & Tulips


With bright daffodills and the sweetest honeysuckle; round the back of my first house was my favourite place. It seemed always to be sunny, but looking back this was probably because of the fortunate postioning of the garden and the seemingly never-ending tulips in all colours.
When the sun hit the herb corner the scent of mint mingled with the flowers' nectar and I loved it. Round the back next to the honeysuckle was the door we never used. It was a door of frosted diamond panneling. It reminded me of pretty jewells when the sun bounced off it. You could open up the frosted door into a tiny space before the main door into the house.The smell of damp, bare concrete was so different to the sweetness of the garden.
The inside door was always locked but I would persist and try opening it every time i ventured inside my secret little place. On this particular day instead of the usual clunk of the cold metal handle which signalled my unwanted intrusion, my small chubby hand easilly pulled the handle down into a smooth click and it opened.
I didnt recognise my own house. I'd never seen it this way before. Instead of the bright yellow kitchen with various retro Bisto posters and crumbs, deep blue stairs loomed up at me. I could smell my dog Plug which was reassuring and soon his big black wet nose came to investigate who had opened the back door. I approached the stairs and opened the cool white metal stairgate and Plug and I began to ascend the dark steps into our new, frightening home at the top. The daylight shone through the small window at the top with the fairy dust. It was too high for me to reach and look out of. I went to check on my little toddler sister, sleeping in her tiny room at the end of the landing. She'd obviously heard me and Plug however, because as i tired to sneak onto the prickley green carpet (like the outside of a coconut)she was already up and bouncing to greet us with her mouth scattered with wood chippings and flakes of white emulsion paint from where she'd been chewing her cot.


END.

No comments:

Post a Comment