The dearest of memories can spring from the most surprising sources. ShelWhitt's kind response to a message of mine has stirred so many memories for me... I am beyond grateful that, even during these arduous times, I have been allowed to contemplate the little things that sustained me while I was growing up and beyond. Some of those reminiscences follow: they may trigger a similar response in others... I hope they do. To those who find these reflections self-indulgent and overly nostalgic, please forgive me and gently move on XX
... Water freezing in taps during winters harsher and yet more enchanting than this generation could ever imagine... The crunch of crisp snow underfoot as we hurtled down the alley ways of our youth, plaits flying, eyes streaming, cheeks ablaze in the biting cold… The irresistible shiver of leaves tossed by disobedient gales… The cobalt-blue light cast by the paraffin heater that we crouched around while unending power cuts scissored our nights and defined our days… The lush, sappy scent of freshly mown grass during spring afternoons that held the promise of impending warmth and haze and blaze… The stolid thud of willow striking leather as ivory-clad cricketers in the playing fields behind my house signed the air during languid summer Sunday afternoons as I sat and scribbled sense and nonsense at my darkly dark oak bureau, bowed with age and obstinance… Papa, enthusiastically concealed behind stubborn swirls of milky, ill-advised cigarette smoke and newsy newspapers piled high as he wrote and wrote and wrote furiously, copiously, angrily, brilliantly, pointlessly in the pine-walled breakfast room, his spidery letters claiming the political page, fascinating my child-brain, fuelling my childhood ambition… Mummy – so adored by her students, marking homework, delighting in quadratic equations and trigonometry and horribly complicated sums and theorems, overworked, stretched beyond belief, protectively anxious, meekly frowning, showering my days with infinite healing, shivering into radiators and blankets and shawls and other warming things, loving me, loving me, loving me with a tenacity I have never elsewhere or otherwise encountered… My menagerie: Sandy, the recalcitrant labrador, my two rabbits who miraculously morphed into eighteen, acres of budgies and canaries and finches, gobbling goldfish greedy for flaky fodder, a duet of guinea pigs I never met as my mother bought them for me as a surprise while I was away one winter with Papa, then left them out in the conservatory, where, to her horror and disbelief, they promptly froze to death. An only child, I tended to them all (except the deceased guinea pigs I never met) with a fierce protectiveness and ardour that only childhood and adolescence can bestow… Being bundled into the back seat of our Ford Granada, where I sang unselfconsciously, ardently and supine, to pass the time as Papa drove us across to Wales and up to Scotland and down to Brighton… And, above all, school, my beloved St C’s: I owe it everything. There’s nothing more to say.
ShelWhitt - you are a star X
Written by
TheDrivenSnow
To view profiles and participate in discussions please or .
Yes, I could tell, the words where rich and full of life and bounce of the screen. I had a good childhood, we didn't have much money but the care and love was plenty. xx
Yes, I could feel the crunch of the snow beneath my feet and the smell of the freshly cut grass as I was reading it. It reminded me of childhood things and brought a warm smile to my face. xx
Memories are so precious and you should keep them once you have written them down, then your children can read them and be thrown back into your world when you where a small girl. How are you today. xx
Bobbybobb, I sometimes write poetry for pleasure - and for my children - and many of my musings are drawn from personal experience. A sort of legacy, I suppose...
I have been advised (by Public Health England) to limit non-urgent, in-person interactions in view of the viral outbreak and to wear disposable gloves whenever in doubt!
Your children will have great pleasure reading them one day. You need to take good care of yourself and follow advice and reduce the risk as much as possible in every way you can. I hope you are relaxing as much as possible and are on top of any pain issues. I'm ok, I've got Physio at the hospital tomorrow. Take care. xxx
I intend to stick around for as long as I possibly can! And I'm starting to come round to the idea of resuming writing seriously again.
Pain management continues to be elusive, despite the hospice's best efforts... I think of it as a work in progress...
Did you find physio helpful today? I had to cut my last physio session short as I was even worse than usual last time after being felled by a tummy bug. I'm not attending art therapy or physio for the foreseeable future after guidance I've received from Public Health England re the virus. Scary times.
You should resume writing you have a great gift there for sure. Physio was ok, they had plenty of hand gel and tissue in all the departments at the hospital and all the corridor doors closed as the are usually open. Reception staff wore gloves and a few patient's had masks. I also saw a few people out and about today with masks on. You have been through so much personally, you have to protect yourself and keep safe. xx
Great memories. Some of mine were good some bad. Frost on the inside of my bedroom window. Milk freezing in the doorstep so it expanded out of the too of the bottle in a column, blue tits using their beams to break little holes in the foil on the top of the milk bottles so they could drink the milk. Snow so deep when it had been blown by the wind that we opened the front door to be confronted with a wall of snow.
Helping Dad in the garden from an early age, being taught how to fertilize cucumbers at the age of 5 and thinking I was helping him weed and pulling up his little seedlings, lol.
Horrible memories of being rushed to hospital at the age of 5 being in an oxygen tent for several weeks and Mom and Dad only being allowed to touch me through a little opening, being in hospital for 6 weeks and then being sent 100 more away which was a long way then to a convalescent hospital and only seeing my parents every 2 weeks for 2 hours. Missing so much school I was about 8 before I learnt to read and write properly and being terribly bullied as I was a shy only child who was at the time very small and thin with a maiden name that you could make horrible phrases with.
Being taken fishing by Dad in a coach with 5O men from his fishing club for their fishing competitions. Dad taking me fishing in his own and teaching me about nature, then always going to the same pub in the way back, being left in the car on my own and being brought out a packet of Walkers chees crisps and a Vimto. Like you going to Wales in an old banger and staying in our very rudimentary converted shepherds hut and being let to roam along the river and seashore on my own.
Mom telling me marvellous tales about her signing up for the ATS before the second world war and going over in a boat to Africa and the boat being torpedoed, it missed and came under the boat. Of seeing pygmies and elephants and then going up to Egypt and her superior officer being offered camels for her.
Eventually getting a longed for dog who I adored and Dad showing me how to train her. I think that was the best thing that happened to me.x
What fabulous yet bitter-sweet memories! I swear I live in the backyard of my mind, where past meets present and creates a parallel reality that helps me cope with the challenges that confront me. I sense you are much the same! Our experiences never leave us. X
I can remember being teased and tormented about my maiden name because it rhymed with something horrible, but I do have many happy memories of home in the countryside, winters were harsh but summers were long and we had so much freedom as kids we would roam for hours with just a couple of cheese sandwiches apple pie and a bottle of "pop" we wouldn't go home until hunger got the better of us. Even with all the teasing and name calling I came through it and my childhood memories are more good than bad. Take care all xx
Gosh, yes, we would roam and play for HOURS in the tall grass, co-existing quite happily with creepy-crawlies et al, adopting random kittens and tortoises and enacting dubious Hannibal Hayes & Kid Curry scenes. We called our little skits "Highwaymen" (no, I don't know, either) :-|
I managed a few hours of deep sleep last night! It's been a while... I can't lie down flat any more (haven't been able to in about seven months), and attempting to sleep sitting up or semi-reclining isn't the most conducive to restfulness. Disturbed sleep inevitably impinges on the day that follows and I end up drowsy and tired - not the best when you need to submit multiple projects with varying deadlines, each with their own set of instructions and parameters
My obsession with Hutch was extreme: I confess to kissing the T.V. screen on occasion :-| (think of all those germs!)
I look at pictures of him now and wonder what on earth I saw in him!
Good to hear you managed a little bit of decent sleep this fibro thing doesn't allow us much and with you having so much other stuff on your mind it must be so much worse, are you maybe taking on too many projects that are keeping you awake? I hope not. I wasn't around yesterday, had to go to my dear brother in laws funeral😔we all thought we'd have time to spend together in retirement and all of a sudden our time with him has sadly passed. Oh yeah I can remember kissing the TV screen and the posters! TV was always in the corner of the room, it'd be a mission to do it these days we'd need to stand on a chair with the screens being on the wall now! 🙄Take extra care of yourself with this virus going round I'm sure your lovely family want to wrap you in cotton wool also sure that with your independent spirit you won't have that! Sending much love xx
in reply to
And strangely enough the bottle of pop that we used to carry was called Corona! The Corona man would call once a week to the more isolated villages with his sparkling bottles on his van and Mum would buy some for us if she could afford it! If not we would take water in last week's bottle😂Good memories xx
So beautifully written. Memories, no -one can take them away from you, they will be there forever. Love and hugs Lynne xxxx
I'm glad this resonated with you, Lynne. It's precious, isn't it, when we're reminded of past experience... Sometimes, what we've lived through can be bitter-sweet, but, weirdly, I don't think I would change a great deal if I had the chance to do it over again. X
Thank you so much TheDrivenSnow. I'm certainly not a star, but I do my best to help. I am glad my trip down memory lane encouraged you to take your own journey and lifted your spirits for a while. Maybe it helped some of my other fibro friends on here to do the same. If so I am glad, as we all need to grab whatever we can to make each day a little bit brighter. I enjoyed reading your reminiscences too. You do have a way with words! Take care. xxx
You write so well; it brings back my childhood memories, mine were mainly about dogs and horses, and my father's and Uncle's military friends after the War. Like many of us just after WW2, I had endless freedom to explore, dig dens, put the Girl Guide knowledge to use, ride off on our bikes to rivers, lakes, hills, etc.
Holidays were usually spent in Cornwall or Wales; long hours stuck in the sidecar of Dad's combination motorcycle. I remember well sitting in the sidecar with the dog, and the washing up bowl on my head as the canvas roof of the sidecar leaked!
I remember scrambling up and down cliffs and rockpooling, in Cornwall, and helping out on the farm where we camped in Wales, herding out the geese to the lake in the mornings and bringing in the cows for milking, before sending them out again. Watching the wild ponies on the hills along with the sheep, and helping to muster them. It was a great life for a child, taught us stuff that today's kids don't learn.
I tried to give my kids those sorts of freedoms, but things move so fast nowadays, it's dangerous. It's a lifestyle lost, unfortunately. Still, it lives on in memory, treasured moments recalled. Thank you.
What super memories, Midori! I'm picturing you with that washing-up bowl perched on your head, desperately trying to avoid being soaked And those fabulous reminiscences of Cornwall and Wales: have you realised that a vast number of our memories are tied into nature in some way? I think it must be linked to some sort of primeval instinct for the elemental.
And you're so right: like you, I've found it impossible to have my own children grow up with the sense of freedom that we enjoyed. I hope, though, that I've been able to give them some idea of the kind of life we lived and, equally, an appreciation of what really matters. Your understanding of what must be passed on tells me that you've succeeded in doing just this
As long as we have our memories - good, bad ugly, but OURS, we'll never be truly alone, never irrevocably lost.
Unfortunately I don't have many happy memories of my childhood but have tried to give my own children and now my grandchildren wonderful things to look back on.
There are lots of things I can no longer do with the grandchildren due to fibro.
On a bad day I can't even hug them but something I can do, that we all enjoy is read to them. I read (and sometimes write) stories, poems, silly limericks etc. etc.
You have a wonderful way with words, thank you for sharing them, Lynn xx
Lynn, thank you for your thoughtful response. I am sorry if I have triggered thoughts that are less than pleasant. This was not my intention, and I do realise that not everyone has been fortunate enough to have experienced a perfect childhood and adolescence. I think it is wonderful that you have done your utmost to ensure that your children and grandchildren have the best lives possible. They are bound to appreciate your guidance and presence in their lives and will, without a doubt, follow your lead. I have a charming picture in my head of you, comfortably ensconced on your sofa, a book open in your lap and several more by your side, surrounded by little upturned faces, eager to soak in nan's words and presence and scent xx
Although it may, at first glance, appear that my childhood was unblemished, like you, I have had my fair share of negative experiences.
Two stand out.
I was sexually abused by a neighbour (John, a married man in his late thirties, with two little children of his own) for four years: from the age of six until I was ten - and I was so ashamed that I just couldn't tell anyone at all until I was well into my 20s. I convinced myself that it was my fault.
A further instance: my parents separated when I was 18 after a prolonged period of turmoil that involved both emotional and physical abuse. My mother ultimately elected to move away - secretly one afternoon, with me in tow - leading to me having to interrupt uni, undergo counselling that didn't work - and generally feel that life wasn't worth living.
But I was kind to myself. I survived. Largely due to my school and my extended family. But that is a story for another day.
Despite all the negatives - I look back with immense fondness and gratitude and love. In among all the bad stuff, there was good stuff. I have to focus on the good stuff. I just have to. There is no alternative. I hope that makes sense.
And so, you see, I welcome reflection, introspection, examination. It gives me an opportunity to magnify the good and diminish the bad. How we choose to view life really is all a matter of adjusting our own perspective: it's astonishing how much control we have! We are all fortunate in some way or another: we just need to harness that and run with it!
Easier said than done, I know. But - you know what - I think you've done a great job XX
Content on HealthUnlocked does not replace the relationship between you and doctors or other healthcare professionals nor the advice you receive from them.
Never delay seeking advice or dialling emergency services because of something that you have read on HealthUnlocked.
And those fabulous reminiscences of Cornwall and Wales: have you realised that a vast number of our memories are tied into nature in some way? I think it must be linked to some sort of primeval instinct for the elemental. 
Good Night I leave you with this.
Yesterday proved to be one of those horrid ones. I took my beloved cat MrMuggles to
Why do I only feel well at one in the morning?
am i the only one that feels guilty as a wife and mother
