Sunday, September 07, 2003
Nina waxes lyrical about Autumn. I think it's quite possibly my favourite season too, but we don't seem to get it in this country any more. If we're lucky we normally get a week or so, normally mid-September, then it's about six months of Winter until Spring. I don't know why but I associate Autumn with my childhood, possibly something to do with going back to school in September? I also associate bubblebath with my childhood, but I can explain this one. In the sideboard draw at my parents house there's a round disc of the sort of material that they make cats eyes on streets out of. When I was young'un this was sewn on to my coat breast pocket, to help cars spot me in the admittedly unlikely event that I was walking around outside after dark. Whenever I go to visit my parents I tend to pull open the drawer and pull out the disc and just get such a strong connection with my childhood. And the bubbles in bublebath remind me of this disc. It's odd how the mind works sometimes.
Apropos of nothing at all, my parents asked me what my earliest memory was. I have two. The first is that I'm being held by my parents in the back garden of the house I would grow up in. Through the gap in the bush at the bottom of the garden drives a small miniature milk float like an escape from toytown, it comes halfway up the path, then turns round and disappears through the hole again. The other is that I'm in a cot or a baby bouncer or something and I hear someone clearly say something about "three day week". The toytown milk float I can only explain by either I saw a milk float on it's rounds in the street outside my house and it got superimposed on a memory in the back garden (which is reasonable as I would have been learning how to make my memory work at that young age) or I saw something inexplicable. Number two does have it's attraction.
Apropos of nothing at all, my parents asked me what my earliest memory was. I have two. The first is that I'm being held by my parents in the back garden of the house I would grow up in. Through the gap in the bush at the bottom of the garden drives a small miniature milk float like an escape from toytown, it comes halfway up the path, then turns round and disappears through the hole again. The other is that I'm in a cot or a baby bouncer or something and I hear someone clearly say something about "three day week". The toytown milk float I can only explain by either I saw a milk float on it's rounds in the street outside my house and it got superimposed on a memory in the back garden (which is reasonable as I would have been learning how to make my memory work at that young age) or I saw something inexplicable. Number two does have it's attraction.
