This series of stories will be titled 'I'm surprised I turned out as well as I did, given my childhood ...' 27

Memories can come at you from any side and for any reason.

It’s believed that the most powerful memory-inducer is the sense of smell. The smell of a particular thing can whisk you back to a time you’d forgotten you even remember (if that makes sense).

For me, one smell that does the whole whisking back to days long-since gone is the smell of sea-grass floor coverings. The mats are made from dried, woven sea-grass and it smells sweet, similar to hay, but a stronger, more concentrated smell, clean and fresh, it lingers in rooms and older houses.

Pixabay image

At the infant school at Blackwell, across the road from 181 Primrose Hill where I lived, there was a room with sea-grass mats. We went into that room to watch a programme on the television.

I can’t remember if the television was black and white or colour, but I remember the room had a sloped ceiling and junk piled around the edges – it was a store-room I suppose.

The whole class would troop in and line up carefully, making sure we had enough room to sit down. Then, line by line, we sat down, legs crossed, looking up at the television set. Little feet kicking up the smell of the sea-grass along with faint dust-motes.

I remember a white dress and red cardigan. I can’t recall if I was wearing the dress or if someone else was, but that’s one enduring snippet of recollection from that time.

This was long before the video was invented, so if the teacher wanted us to watch a programme, we’d have to be there in time for the start of it.

Blinds were closed in preparation for the showing and then the lights were switched off.

I’m not sure if everyone had a television in their house, so I suppose, for some of my classmates, it could have been even more of a special occasion than it was for me.

The stand was taller than this
Pixabay Image

Later, at my next school, the sea-grass flooring was only up in the head teacher’s office. Mr Roberts was a kind head teacher, but he could also be stern and scary if you did anything wrong.

I remember going up a spiral staircase on my first ever day at the new school. My father took me and he followed me up. I stepped on the narrowest side just for the challenge, I suppose… maybe it was because my father was behind me on one side… I’m not sure, I just remember being very careful as I reached the top and the narrow bit got narrower and eventually petered out.

The one question from that first interview I remember was: “Which side of the steps did you stand on coming up here, the narrow side or the wide side?”

“The narrow side,” I said. I don’t think I had chance to explain myself properly, but was that the right answer? It was certainly the truth, but I guess I’ll never know.

Pixabay Image

The smell of that dried sea-grass is not common these days and whenever I catch the scent of it, back I go to my early childhood.

Another scent is associated with the feeling of spring and again of autumn (fall).

It’s the colder, damp mornings of autumn that gets me, usually. I can be going outside to the back garden, or to the front of my house, to the car, perhaps, when suddenly, that hint of a change in the seasons just grabs hold of my senses and a day or a moment is there in my mind, as clear as day.

The drawing-on of the seasons remind me of blackberry picking and the resulting blackberry and apple pie. The sweet, tangy taste of the blackberries mingling with the apple, the crunch of the blackberry seeds and the purple swirls of blackberry juice in the apple. Added to that, the crisp crust, coated with melted sugar and either cream or custard poured onto the delicious concoction. Hot or cold, with or without blackberries, apple pie was always a delightful treat as dessert or pudding.

See what I mean about memories leading you off along different paths? I was going to tell you about the blackberrying adventures along the hedgerows and I was taken along a path with apple pie and custard.

Blackberries aren’t the only wild fruit we used to pick. I remember hands stained purple from the blackberries, but there was also a patch or two of raspberries in the hedges.

I had my Grandad’s expert tuition to fall back on and though I didn’t realise at the time, it stood me in good stead because I could pass on that knowledge to the other kids.

Deadly Nightshade looks beautiful in full fruit, but it can cause sickness if ingested.

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The same with privet berries. They look like an individual blackberry, but again, they can cause extreme stomach upset if eaten.

From mudchute.org via Google Images

From my garden

I stuck to blackberries, raspberries, apples and crab-apples.

I may have tried biting into a conker (Horse-chestnut) once, but it’s bitter and inedible, not at all like the sweet chestnut.

I’m not sure whether it’s possible to live completely off the grid just by the hedgerow crops we find here, but you can certainly eat well in late summer and into autumn.

Sloes aren’t really edible without sweetening, but they do make awesome sloe-gin.

Damsons and plums can be found in the wild too, but as this is from my memories, I can’t recall picking sloes or making sloe-gin when I was a child. My father made a batch when I was younger but I wasn’t given any… I had to steal a quick ‘nip’ to taste that particular delicacy.

I know there are tales of kids getting drunk from raiding the cocktail cabinet, but the only thing I was interested in were the maraschino cherries. Bright red, in delicious syrup.

There was only a small jar in the cocktail cabinet at home and if I raided that too often, it would be noticed.