This memory was triggered when we came home from Bowling out at Star City on Thursday (18th) with TaraKate and Alex. I was showing her where I grew up, just a few comments as we drove along.
We lived a couple of houses down from the bend in Lyndon road and on the other side was a railway siding. The trucks were sometimes parked up overnight and could hold anything including cows. It was nothing to wake in the night and hear cows mooing!!! Anyhow, my mother always told me to come straight home from school 'cos if I didn't she would call the fire brigade to fetch me - why the fire brigade I have no idea. Well, the inevitable happened, I got caught up in what was happening after school and left there rather later than usual. I ran all the way down from school, crossed the main road and turned into our road only to find ......... fire engines galore at the bottom of the road, right on the bend where I lived!!! Oh!my goodness!! she'd called the fire brigade!! I rushed into the house and there was my mother in the kitchen and I started to cry saying "I'm sorry! I forgot the time! I'm so sorry!" I was upset and my mother (who had been busy and was oblivious to the time) cuddled me up, pacified me and then tried to get out of me why I was so upset. I explained that I was late and the fire brigade was outside! She laughed and laughed - apparently there was a fire in one of the trucks parked up and THAT was why the fire brigade was there!!
Funny now but at the time it taught me a lesson, I was never late home again, she would never get the chance to call them out again - whether or not she did this time.
Saturday 20 December 2008
Wednesday 12 November 2008
Remembrance Day 2008
What better day to start a blog like this!!!
I wanted a place to keep my memories alive, be they misplaced, slightly glorified or whatever - here they will be.
I feel that now, as I start to lose hold of short term memory, this will be where I can remember who I am and how I arrived here.
My earliest memory is being wrapped in a blanket, or shawl of some kind, and in my mother's arms. It is cold and windy, she pulls the blanket round me and bangs hard on the door knocker, which is slightly higher than her so she has to stretch to reach it. A lady with grey hair scraped back in a bun and dressed in black answers the door. She says 'the doctors not in' to which my mother responds with 'what shal I do?' I cannot remember the answer, but I am in a square room sitting on my mother's lap and there is a kindly looking man sitting behind a desk. He rolls a threepenny bit across the floor and says to me 'if you can get that you can have it'. As I walk across and get it, he tells my mother that if I can walk my leg is not broken.
I had this memory for years and it was closely followed by another of me falling and my brother, with outstretched arms, catching me.
I asked my mother about these memories and she told me that I had fallen down the stairs and that is why she took me to the Doctors........... I was three years old. The Doctor wasn't in so she had to walk a couple of hundred yards along Station Road (Stechford in Birmingham) to the next doctor's surgery. My mother was not convinced of the Doctor's diagnosis so she took me to the hospital where they confirmed that I had a greenstick fracture and plastered my leg. About two weeks later, after I was out of plaster (six weeks), I fell down the stairs again - only for my brother Tony to catch me and save me another trip to the hospital!!! Stairs have always been the bane of my life, falling down or up them, I am not fussy. lol
I wanted a place to keep my memories alive, be they misplaced, slightly glorified or whatever - here they will be.
I feel that now, as I start to lose hold of short term memory, this will be where I can remember who I am and how I arrived here.
My earliest memory is being wrapped in a blanket, or shawl of some kind, and in my mother's arms. It is cold and windy, she pulls the blanket round me and bangs hard on the door knocker, which is slightly higher than her so she has to stretch to reach it. A lady with grey hair scraped back in a bun and dressed in black answers the door. She says 'the doctors not in' to which my mother responds with 'what shal I do?' I cannot remember the answer, but I am in a square room sitting on my mother's lap and there is a kindly looking man sitting behind a desk. He rolls a threepenny bit across the floor and says to me 'if you can get that you can have it'. As I walk across and get it, he tells my mother that if I can walk my leg is not broken.
I had this memory for years and it was closely followed by another of me falling and my brother, with outstretched arms, catching me.
I asked my mother about these memories and she told me that I had fallen down the stairs and that is why she took me to the Doctors........... I was three years old. The Doctor wasn't in so she had to walk a couple of hundred yards along Station Road (Stechford in Birmingham) to the next doctor's surgery. My mother was not convinced of the Doctor's diagnosis so she took me to the hospital where they confirmed that I had a greenstick fracture and plastered my leg. About two weeks later, after I was out of plaster (six weeks), I fell down the stairs again - only for my brother Tony to catch me and save me another trip to the hospital!!! Stairs have always been the bane of my life, falling down or up them, I am not fussy. lol
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