This series of stories will be titled ‘I’m surprised I turned out as well as I did, given my childhood…’ 14

I was always one of the smaller members of the kid population and only a few things bothered me.

One particular memory I have is swathed in the mists of time, not clear like a lot of the others I can share. There was a group of kids and I don’t know why I was with them or why I was there because it was close to the main road and I was certainly NOT allowed that far from the house (yeah, I know… didn’t usually make a difference).

I remember the feeling of being the centre of attention, all eyes on me and all the kids were bigger than I was – so no pressure then.

“Say ‘hippopotamus’,” one kid said… the next thing I knew I was being laughed at and ridiculed.

“Say ‘octopus’,” the kid said…

I wonder why I don’t like performing in front of crowds…?

You’ll be pleased to know I can say those two words OK now.

One other thing in particular that I remember being bothered by was a guy who was mentally slower than the rest of us. Again, I’m not going to name names, because, even from my description, some people that read this may remember him and I do NOT want to cause embarrassment or upset.

He was a large, bulky guy and could be quite scary.

If one of the older kids decided to put a fright into someone, they would chat to this guy and ‘set him’ onto the other kid, like a trained dog (whether this is true or not, I’m not certain, but that’s how I’m remembering it).

The guy didn’t know his own strength and could easily have caused harm.

I seem to remember the village had more than its fair share of people with similar problems…

Back in the ‘good old days’ when dogs ran loose and foraged for their food, it was thought that bones were good for dogs. Well, I suppose they are, but not too many because you get this:

I knew what it was; probably because I was one of the kids that had a dog AND parents/grandparents that answered questions. Too many bones in a dog’s diet will lead to that. It gets constipated and it can become exceptionally painful for the animal.

The rows were being pulled down in stages and we were one of the families left til later on.

This kid, one of the few younger than me, and his big brother (older than me) were playing on the remains of a bonfire. There were the bare springs of an old mattress and the remains of a tyre. The brothers were poking the still-warm ashes with sticks, and kicking around the blackened and rusty tin cans and rubble left by the fire.

The younger lad bent to pick something up. He studied it and then held it aloft. He’d found a really weird stone…

I looked at his hand and saw immediately what it was. I think his brother must have stopped me from telling him because I waited to see what would happen.

He brought his new-found treasure over to us and his brother studied it, but didn’t touch it.

“You know what that is?” he said, all enthusiastic and excited with the find.

“No, what is it?” the little kid asked, eager for the information his big brother (and obviously his hero) was about to impart.

“It’s dog shit.”

And that was one time I remember not being the centre of attention when the laughter began.

You don’t see much calcified white dog shit these days.

I think the most poignant memories from that time was the abandoned gardens. I remember the gardens with flowers and plants that someone, up until probably just that week, had tended to and cared for that garden.

The bulldozers came and flattened everything.

They wiped decades of work in moments, ruining the gardens, tearing up fences and smashing sheds.

My father took our pup, Kim (about a year old and not yet peeing standing up).

He came home one day after taking Kim for a walk.

“Just been talking to the bulldozer driver…” etc etc… I took no notice. “Kim now cocks his leg when he pees,” he said.

That was a new development and I listened in.

“I was talking to the bulldozer guy and felt something warm and wet running down the inside of my wellies…”

Nicely done, Kim! Remembered forever!

Those days were packed full of exploration and treasure finds. We’d look up to the house to see if we could tell if it was abandoned or not and then, sometimes we got it wrong and got chased off anyway.

One time we were chased off from a garden even though the people had left and abandoned it. I remember bluebells and lilies of the valley in those gardens. Delicate, fragrant flowers. My grandma Gladys had some in her garden… well, lining the path where no vegetables could be planted. No point wasting good planting ground.

I think some of the people hanging on til the end really didn’t want to go, despite the houses being less than modern. They stood their ground to the bitter end, refusing to leave until they were forced to.

As I said, some of the houses had been abandoned and the demolition crews were getting closer and closer. I think I tried to collect and rescue ‘treasure’ that I found. Of course it all had to be re-abandoned when we finally moved.

I could be mixing-up some of my memories – after all, I was six years old back then – I’m not sure if I found an old square tin with photos in it… I probably didn’t give it much thought then, just flicked through the pictures, but how sad to leave pictures behind. I wonder if it was done by accident or on purpose?

Oh and crab apples! Yeah, that’s just popped into my head – from where, I have no idea!

There were a few trees bearing crab apples, but BOY! Did they give you belly-ache!

Crab apples have their own distinct flavour and I spotted a tree with some on, yesterday. I might go and pick some, just for old-time’s sake.

Images from Google