For the inspiration behind this blog click here.
You remember don’t you? You’ve all sat down in front of the TV and whatever the programme is, you can just tell when its building up to a sex scene. You start to squirm maybe, fidgeting in your seat. Maybe your Mum gets up to put the kettle on. Perhaps your Dad starts some inane conversation. Sound familiar? The thing is, I could be describing something that have happened last week – it’s perhaps more awkward when you’re an adult with your parents!
When you’re younger and don’t really care and are more curious, you feel less awkward, but your parents are more twitchy – they might be avoiding the fact you were growing up, or maybe you were really too young to be asking such questions of sex scenes and they wanted to “protect “ you!
There are a few of us out there that are of the age when the opening credits of “Tales of The Unexpected” was a taboo thing – parents seemed to think it was a programme that would have sex in it and so you weren’t allowed to watch it.
I mean, looking at it now, what did that women ever have to do with the stories?
“S..e..x”
“My Gran was looking after me one night and Dynasty came on. Remember, all the shoulder pads and big hair! A particular scene came on and she jumped up in front of the TV and changed the channel. “That’s quite enough of S.E.X I think” I replied, “Gran I have an O Grade in English and can spell sex..I even know what it means”.
Well, did she not take that the wrong way? ”What do you mean you know what it means, what have you been up to?!”. “No Gran, I mean I know what the definition in the dictionary is, not that I have actually done it!!”
“We were watching something on the TV when the trailer came on for The Singing Detective – all I remember is my Mum giving it “Right, time for bed now”! I don’t really remember what the particular scene was.
Prossie
“We were all sitting watching the TV one night and it had some programme on it that had a bit in it where they were discussing prostitutes. I had no idea what one was but needed to ask the question. “Dad, what’s a prostitute?”
I remember me and my sister were sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, where they were sitting. I can still picture myself turning round and gazing upwards into his face as I asked the question.
The response was “bed!”. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with the word. I didn’t think I’d sworn, in fact I would never intentional or otherwise, swear in front of my parents.
My sister had to explain to me what a prostitute was and explain why I’d been sent to bed. I must have been about seven or eight at the time.”
Police Academy
“I was reminded about this recently from a cousin – its something I said back as a child that seems to have stuck in the family and I’ll occasionally get the rip taken out of me!
We were watching Police Academy one night. That must have made me about ten years old or something like that. Me, my Mum, my two older sisters and my cousin. You know what that film’s like – if there was a sex scene it was an obvious wind up thing. I can’t even remember the bit in the film to be honest, but I did feel a bit uncomfortable.
I was wriggling about on the chair and Mum asked me what was wrong. She was dumfounded when I’d replied “I don’t know Mum, but I’ve got a sore front bottom!”
I still get reminded of that phrase by my family and it’s so embarrassing. I can’t believe what I’d said, I obviously didn’t have a clue why it was happening or what it meant!”
Thursday, August 31, 2006
And hopefully the last time.....tooth/dentist memory
For the inspiration behind this blog click here.
I realised as I was composing my last entry that I have another "tooth/dentist" related memory that is very vivid. I'm sure you have them too. Those memories where you "touch wood" when recalling them, that they won't happen again. They are usually horror stories to those recalling them and you share a degree of empathy when you hear them. Of course, I know I'm guilty of the odd embellishment too when telling this type of story. Are you?
And hopefully the last time......tooth/dentist memory
“I was in sixth year at school and it was winter time. I was running away from someone about to lob a snowball at me, when someone in front of me stuck out their hand to stop me. I skidded right round them and landed flat on my face. I landed on tarmac. I was pulled up and I knew straight away something was wrong in my face. The pain was unbearable.
I’d clean broke my front tooth and the nerve ending was dangling down like rubber thread. I couldn’t help touching it with my tongue – oh.. but the pain.
As soon as people realised, I was taken to the headmaster to get a call into my parents. Some pupils who’d seen it were even looking in the snow for the piece of tooth that had been smashed – never did find it but I reckon I must have swallowed it.
I was taken down to my Dad’s surgery in town – he worked across the road from the dentist. He took me over and sat and waited with me. I remember the dentist wasn’t my normal one and I didn’t feel comfortable. I had a sodding great gap in my face but all I wanted was the pain to stop. He gave me an injection in the gums and sorted out the nerve – my god the needle looked huge! He took out bits of the tooth and filed it down to a tiny piece in the gum.
I ended up walking about without a front tooth for weeks while they made up a false one for me. When I got the temporary one in I used to have a party trick where I’d pop it out and grin away with this metal grey stump hanging down my face! People hated that one! Thankfully I’ve had this one in for over 10 years now without a mishap!”
I realised as I was composing my last entry that I have another "tooth/dentist" related memory that is very vivid. I'm sure you have them too. Those memories where you "touch wood" when recalling them, that they won't happen again. They are usually horror stories to those recalling them and you share a degree of empathy when you hear them. Of course, I know I'm guilty of the odd embellishment too when telling this type of story. Are you?
And hopefully the last time......tooth/dentist memory
“I was in sixth year at school and it was winter time. I was running away from someone about to lob a snowball at me, when someone in front of me stuck out their hand to stop me. I skidded right round them and landed flat on my face. I landed on tarmac. I was pulled up and I knew straight away something was wrong in my face. The pain was unbearable.
I’d clean broke my front tooth and the nerve ending was dangling down like rubber thread. I couldn’t help touching it with my tongue – oh.. but the pain.
As soon as people realised, I was taken to the headmaster to get a call into my parents. Some pupils who’d seen it were even looking in the snow for the piece of tooth that had been smashed – never did find it but I reckon I must have swallowed it.
I was taken down to my Dad’s surgery in town – he worked across the road from the dentist. He took me over and sat and waited with me. I remember the dentist wasn’t my normal one and I didn’t feel comfortable. I had a sodding great gap in my face but all I wanted was the pain to stop. He gave me an injection in the gums and sorted out the nerve – my god the needle looked huge! He took out bits of the tooth and filed it down to a tiny piece in the gum.
I ended up walking about without a front tooth for weeks while they made up a false one for me. When I got the temporary one in I used to have a party trick where I’d pop it out and grin away with this metal grey stump hanging down my face! People hated that one! Thankfully I’ve had this one in for over 10 years now without a mishap!”
First time your tooth was taken out
For the inspiration behind this blog click here.
I had toothache today - a real dull throb in the back of my mouth. Boom, boom, boom. I've been telling myself its probably nothing and that the usual remedy of buying a tube of Sensidine toothpaste will do the trick, but in the back of my mind I have a niggling doubt as to how long I can keep the ache at bay in this way. Am I storing upa problem for later? I'll keep you posted.
It got me thinking about the dentist, naturally, and the first time I had a tooth taken out. I couldn't tell you how old I was but it was the days of the gas mask over your face and the countdown....10...9....8....7....doubt it ever reached 6 or beyond......
It's perhaps a memory some of us want to or even choose to forget. The sights (clinical, white, waiting room chairs), sounds (that drill – doesn't the noise just scream out in your ears; the "sucker tube thing" and girgling of saliva), and of course the smells (the mouth-wash, the toothy, drilling smell), they all make the memory. Of course, we notice different things as we get older – the younger age memories are just those – of a younger mind........
Here I share my own memory and those of friends and colleagues that I've gathered over the last few weeks.
Flowers everywhere
“I remember I was little. My Dad came with me and was trying to calm me down. I was lying back on the chair and saw the familiar map of the world on the ceiling of the surgery. But it wasn’t of interest now. I was really scared.
The dentist had glasses and when the mask for the gas came towards me I kept pulling myself out of the seat because I could see the reflection in his specs. My Dad sussed it out.
He told me to close my eyes and dream of fields of daffodils because that’s what he dreams of when he’s trying to sleep. I thought this was amazing….my Dad was giving me his dreams. Isn’t it funny what you remember?
I guess at this point I was under the gas. …..a field of yellow flowers later, I woke up in agony. I was told later that I must have subconsciously felt the pull on my tooth and the pain, because my arm shot out and my hand grabbed the dentist between his legs!!”
Stereo sounds and visions
“I didn’t mind the dentist really. They used to give me earphones to put on that plugged into a stereo with that “mood” music playing. All “tra, la, la” music.
I got gas for my getting teeth out. I remember the first time, sitting there with my earphones on and when the mask came down on me I remember all I saw was the circle of people staring at me. They were staring down at me and it was as if they were getting closer and closer to me. I kept thinking that they’d fall over and land on me if they didn’t move away. Then I was under and don’t remember.
Of course all the faces were the dentist, the nurse, my sister and my Dad. At least I knew them!”
Just the braces
“I remember I was wearing shorts and braces. Funny I remember that but they are so vivid in my memory…me, a girl, wearing blue checked shorts with red braces….my Mum must have been mad! I had just come out of the dentist and remember being hauled by the braces to keep me upright because the gas effect hadn’t worn off.”
Ahh the irish
“I was sixteen when I got gassed by the dentist for the first time. I had a baby tooth that hadn’t come out. The adult tooth had grown behind it and forced it into an odd angle. It was hanging by a thread. In Ireland they use laughing gas and I remember laughing at the dentist pulling this tooth out with the pliers, so hard, that the tooth fell on the floor. I was awake the whole way through! But, let me tell you, it was f**king agony when it wore off!”
I had toothache today - a real dull throb in the back of my mouth. Boom, boom, boom. I've been telling myself its probably nothing and that the usual remedy of buying a tube of Sensidine toothpaste will do the trick, but in the back of my mind I have a niggling doubt as to how long I can keep the ache at bay in this way. Am I storing upa problem for later? I'll keep you posted.
It got me thinking about the dentist, naturally, and the first time I had a tooth taken out. I couldn't tell you how old I was but it was the days of the gas mask over your face and the countdown....10...9....8....7....doubt it ever reached 6 or beyond......
It's perhaps a memory some of us want to or even choose to forget. The sights (clinical, white, waiting room chairs), sounds (that drill – doesn't the noise just scream out in your ears; the "sucker tube thing" and girgling of saliva), and of course the smells (the mouth-wash, the toothy, drilling smell), they all make the memory. Of course, we notice different things as we get older – the younger age memories are just those – of a younger mind........
Here I share my own memory and those of friends and colleagues that I've gathered over the last few weeks.
Flowers everywhere
“I remember I was little. My Dad came with me and was trying to calm me down. I was lying back on the chair and saw the familiar map of the world on the ceiling of the surgery. But it wasn’t of interest now. I was really scared.
The dentist had glasses and when the mask for the gas came towards me I kept pulling myself out of the seat because I could see the reflection in his specs. My Dad sussed it out.
He told me to close my eyes and dream of fields of daffodils because that’s what he dreams of when he’s trying to sleep. I thought this was amazing….my Dad was giving me his dreams. Isn’t it funny what you remember?
I guess at this point I was under the gas. …..a field of yellow flowers later, I woke up in agony. I was told later that I must have subconsciously felt the pull on my tooth and the pain, because my arm shot out and my hand grabbed the dentist between his legs!!”
Stereo sounds and visions
“I didn’t mind the dentist really. They used to give me earphones to put on that plugged into a stereo with that “mood” music playing. All “tra, la, la” music.
I got gas for my getting teeth out. I remember the first time, sitting there with my earphones on and when the mask came down on me I remember all I saw was the circle of people staring at me. They were staring down at me and it was as if they were getting closer and closer to me. I kept thinking that they’d fall over and land on me if they didn’t move away. Then I was under and don’t remember.
Of course all the faces were the dentist, the nurse, my sister and my Dad. At least I knew them!”
Just the braces
“I remember I was wearing shorts and braces. Funny I remember that but they are so vivid in my memory…me, a girl, wearing blue checked shorts with red braces….my Mum must have been mad! I had just come out of the dentist and remember being hauled by the braces to keep me upright because the gas effect hadn’t worn off.”
Ahh the irish
“I was sixteen when I got gassed by the dentist for the first time. I had a baby tooth that hadn’t come out. The adult tooth had grown behind it and forced it into an odd angle. It was hanging by a thread. In Ireland they use laughing gas and I remember laughing at the dentist pulling this tooth out with the pliers, so hard, that the tooth fell on the floor. I was awake the whole way through! But, let me tell you, it was f**king agony when it wore off!”
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Holly the Hamster - RIP
For the inspiration behind this blog click here.
Hamster's are funny wee furry things aren't they? I didn't have a hamster when I was a child but it seems lots of my friends did. Not sure what I was missing out on really (not much you might say!).
In the last story about Mixtures, we didn't get to hear how she met her death, but there was little time for contemplation as the tale was swiftly followed by the memory of another friend who cried out that she'd murdered her first hamster.... I wonder if anyone else has a similar tale to that of Holly.....
Holly
“Holly was the name of my hamster – she was named after Christmas because that’s when I got her – and she loved playing outside her cage.
"I had gotten her lot of toys as you’d expect, but one in particular was one of those big plastic balls that you put them into and they run about. You know the ones, like caged balls rolling madly about the floor, propelled by a running hamster! I suppose whoever invented them had exercise in mind as well as fun. Well whatever, he probably made a fortune!.
"Well Holly loved that ball. It was almost like she’d run to it as soon as she was out of the cage, begging to be let in. I put her into her ball as usual one this one day and set her off on the bedroom floor.
"After a short while I realised the ball wasn’t moving at all and I went over to it and started it up again on a roll across the floor – I thought she was just tired. Still there was nothing in terms of a direction after the ball hit the door . I went over to it and picked it up. Oh, but you’ll never guess what I’d done (as she hides her face in horror). I’d killed Holly! Hard to believe isn’t it!?
"But it wasn’t through exhaustion as you might think – I suppose their heart capacity is quite small after all - no, it was worse than that. When I’d put her in the ball and closed the door, her leg must have got stuck. She was hanging by her wee leg, upside down, from the door of this plastic ball.
At this point we, the audience to this tale of woe, were all wide mouthed and eyed with a sympathetic “ohhhhhh” sound radiating from us at different pitches.
"Well, I snapped it open, but it was no good. I think the motion of the ball and her hanging the way she was, all the blood must have gone to her head.
"I buried Holly under the hedge in the front garden and my Mum planted some flowers over the spot the next month. Do you know what else, I buried her with the ball. No, not in it, but just by her side. I couldn’t bear any other hamster using it, it wouldn’t be right. She’d have probably haunted it!."
Hamster's are funny wee furry things aren't they? I didn't have a hamster when I was a child but it seems lots of my friends did. Not sure what I was missing out on really (not much you might say!).
In the last story about Mixtures, we didn't get to hear how she met her death, but there was little time for contemplation as the tale was swiftly followed by the memory of another friend who cried out that she'd murdered her first hamster.... I wonder if anyone else has a similar tale to that of Holly.....
Holly
“Holly was the name of my hamster – she was named after Christmas because that’s when I got her – and she loved playing outside her cage.
"I had gotten her lot of toys as you’d expect, but one in particular was one of those big plastic balls that you put them into and they run about. You know the ones, like caged balls rolling madly about the floor, propelled by a running hamster! I suppose whoever invented them had exercise in mind as well as fun. Well whatever, he probably made a fortune!.
"Well Holly loved that ball. It was almost like she’d run to it as soon as she was out of the cage, begging to be let in. I put her into her ball as usual one this one day and set her off on the bedroom floor.
"After a short while I realised the ball wasn’t moving at all and I went over to it and started it up again on a roll across the floor – I thought she was just tired. Still there was nothing in terms of a direction after the ball hit the door . I went over to it and picked it up. Oh, but you’ll never guess what I’d done (as she hides her face in horror). I’d killed Holly! Hard to believe isn’t it!?
"But it wasn’t through exhaustion as you might think – I suppose their heart capacity is quite small after all - no, it was worse than that. When I’d put her in the ball and closed the door, her leg must have got stuck. She was hanging by her wee leg, upside down, from the door of this plastic ball.
At this point we, the audience to this tale of woe, were all wide mouthed and eyed with a sympathetic “ohhhhhh” sound radiating from us at different pitches.
"Well, I snapped it open, but it was no good. I think the motion of the ball and her hanging the way she was, all the blood must have gone to her head.
"I buried Holly under the hedge in the front garden and my Mum planted some flowers over the spot the next month. Do you know what else, I buried her with the ball. No, not in it, but just by her side. I couldn’t bear any other hamster using it, it wouldn’t be right. She’d have probably haunted it!."
A friend's first hamster - the sad story of its death
For the inspiration behind this blog click here.
Well, it seems I've opened up some old wounds with some friends. They thought my idea about the whole "first" thing was a great one but sadly, after a few gins I opened it up with "first pet" and how it died. Oh, the tears that followed, the pained voices and the sympathy around the table - obviously a girls night out I hear you cry - yes you're right! Then came the bravado from the men at the next table - well two blokes actually asked us what the fuss was all about so I delved on in and asked them about their first pet. Of course their stories were more macho (and mostly about dogs!). So, there's lots to get through and lots to keep you hooked and smiling so I'll post them as fast as I can before moving on to the next subject..........
Mixtures the Hamster
“He was called Mixtures…he was black, brown and white you see….get it?! Mixtures was really cool and was my friend when I was young. He would chirp away in his cage, running on his wheel, making all sorts of hamster noises – he was just great!
"I remember coming back from school one day and my Mum sitting me down in the kitchen literally as soon as I walked in the door.
“There’s something I have to tell you” she said in this somber tone. “The thing is, Mixtures died today. He’s gone to pet heaven”.
"Well I knew that that was rubbish…the pet heaven side of it…but geez I was so upset about the fact Mixtures was dead…so I guess at the time, it kept me going. Sounds a bit stupid now I know. But, hey, I was young!.
"I was like: “How did he die Mum, he was fine this morning?”.
“Well, when I went up to your room, he was all curled up in a ball and not moving.” She said.
“Where is he now ?”
“I put him in the bin”.
(We all errupted in a fit of the giggles at this point in the story. Honestly, the empathy part came later I promise).
"In the bin! In the bin! You might laugh but the fact was it was the kitchen bin she was talking about! Hardly hygienic! Buried amongst the carrot peel and goodness knows what else!.
"Anyway, after some tears and huffing about I got over it remarkably quickly actually.
"But I remember a few weeks later I was watching Blue Peter on TV and you know how they were big on the whole pet thing..especially dogs and tortoises? Not sure if they do all that now…but anyway, they were talking about hamsters. And, you know what? According to them hamsters hibernate. I’m not sure, now that I’m older, if that’s entirely true, but its what I remember seeing on the TV.
"Well…they said that to hibernate the hamster would curl up into a ball and not move much. The way to test it was to put him under a low heat grill and the heat would make him uncurl! I dread to think really about how many people may have tested this theory and burnt their hamster. I can smell the fur melting just thinking about it!
"So what the chance that Mixtures might have been alive then? Its an awful thought and it did bother me for a long, long time afterwards. I mean, Mixtures may have been put into the bin man’s lorry and then woken up, struggling for breath amongst all the rubbish. Nothing I could do!”
Funny that whole theory on hamster’s hibernating. I think the jury is out and I have consulted a few sources on this one…including a veterinary surgeon…they don’t hibernate. However, someone else recalls, completely independently of the previous story, about the same episode of Blue Peter….
Well, it seems I've opened up some old wounds with some friends. They thought my idea about the whole "first" thing was a great one but sadly, after a few gins I opened it up with "first pet" and how it died. Oh, the tears that followed, the pained voices and the sympathy around the table - obviously a girls night out I hear you cry - yes you're right! Then came the bravado from the men at the next table - well two blokes actually asked us what the fuss was all about so I delved on in and asked them about their first pet. Of course their stories were more macho (and mostly about dogs!). So, there's lots to get through and lots to keep you hooked and smiling so I'll post them as fast as I can before moving on to the next subject..........
Mixtures the Hamster
“He was called Mixtures…he was black, brown and white you see….get it?! Mixtures was really cool and was my friend when I was young. He would chirp away in his cage, running on his wheel, making all sorts of hamster noises – he was just great!
"I remember coming back from school one day and my Mum sitting me down in the kitchen literally as soon as I walked in the door.
“There’s something I have to tell you” she said in this somber tone. “The thing is, Mixtures died today. He’s gone to pet heaven”.
"Well I knew that that was rubbish…the pet heaven side of it…but geez I was so upset about the fact Mixtures was dead…so I guess at the time, it kept me going. Sounds a bit stupid now I know. But, hey, I was young!.
"I was like: “How did he die Mum, he was fine this morning?”.
“Well, when I went up to your room, he was all curled up in a ball and not moving.” She said.
“Where is he now ?”
“I put him in the bin”.
(We all errupted in a fit of the giggles at this point in the story. Honestly, the empathy part came later I promise).
"In the bin! In the bin! You might laugh but the fact was it was the kitchen bin she was talking about! Hardly hygienic! Buried amongst the carrot peel and goodness knows what else!.
"Anyway, after some tears and huffing about I got over it remarkably quickly actually.
"But I remember a few weeks later I was watching Blue Peter on TV and you know how they were big on the whole pet thing..especially dogs and tortoises? Not sure if they do all that now…but anyway, they were talking about hamsters. And, you know what? According to them hamsters hibernate. I’m not sure, now that I’m older, if that’s entirely true, but its what I remember seeing on the TV.
"Well…they said that to hibernate the hamster would curl up into a ball and not move much. The way to test it was to put him under a low heat grill and the heat would make him uncurl! I dread to think really about how many people may have tested this theory and burnt their hamster. I can smell the fur melting just thinking about it!
"So what the chance that Mixtures might have been alive then? Its an awful thought and it did bother me for a long, long time afterwards. I mean, Mixtures may have been put into the bin man’s lorry and then woken up, struggling for breath amongst all the rubbish. Nothing I could do!”
Funny that whole theory on hamster’s hibernating. I think the jury is out and I have consulted a few sources on this one…including a veterinary surgeon…they don’t hibernate. However, someone else recalls, completely independently of the previous story, about the same episode of Blue Peter….
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Your first pet and how it died....
For the inspiration behind this blog click here.
Most people recall their first family pet – something they either loved or hated, was a chore or a pleasure. Perhaps as time went on and you grew older your feelings towards them changed? Did cleaning out the fish bowl happen less frequently, or walking the dog too much of a bother? Oh how we kids could tire of some things over time - what used to be fun, like teasing the hamster, became a chore as the cage had to be regularly cleaned.
An what about those pet names? From fish to dogs, the naming of pets can give away how old you are. Why the need to call your pet after a TV detective or superhero? Starsky and Hutch or Bo and Luke? Funny how we see the similar trends in naming children after pop stars!
Do you remember how your beloved pet died? Happens to them all of course, but the passing itself can be very memorable for some………..............................................................
I had a number of pets as a child, one of the benefits of living in the countryside and being the daughter of a vet. Here's my memory of how my goldfish died. I think I was around ten years old at the time (but don't quote me on that):
Starsky and Hutch were great goldfish, just swimming around their bowl time and time again. Over the couple or so years I had them I must have put lots of those green plastic plants into the bowl because I remember this one day I was cleaning the plants as well as the bowl. The fish were in a bucket of water on the kitchen floor and I can still invoke the smell on my hands of the slime from the plants and from scrubbing the glass.
What I didn’t realise was that the bucket had been used for bleaching the floor in the porch. The fish had been in there for around an hour I guess. They didn’t look so good when I put them back in their bowl and called my Mum through to have a look. They seemed a bit listless – if you can get a listless fish. (?) All motionless and big eyed! There was little we could do. Mum scooped them out and rinsed the bowl. She even rinsed the fish out under the kitchen tap! Just picked them up and cupped them in her hands with the tap on.
It did perk them up, but only for a day or two. I found both of them floating on the top of their bowl when I got home from school. I did “bury” them so to speak – they were flushed down the toilet the same day!
For a few months after that I would imagine them swimming around in the toilet bowl and I was scared they’d jump up and bite me when I went to the toilet - a sick fish revenge for flushing them away with beached scales.
Most people recall their first family pet – something they either loved or hated, was a chore or a pleasure. Perhaps as time went on and you grew older your feelings towards them changed? Did cleaning out the fish bowl happen less frequently, or walking the dog too much of a bother? Oh how we kids could tire of some things over time - what used to be fun, like teasing the hamster, became a chore as the cage had to be regularly cleaned.
An what about those pet names? From fish to dogs, the naming of pets can give away how old you are. Why the need to call your pet after a TV detective or superhero? Starsky and Hutch or Bo and Luke? Funny how we see the similar trends in naming children after pop stars!
Do you remember how your beloved pet died? Happens to them all of course, but the passing itself can be very memorable for some………..............................................................
I had a number of pets as a child, one of the benefits of living in the countryside and being the daughter of a vet. Here's my memory of how my goldfish died. I think I was around ten years old at the time (but don't quote me on that):
Starsky and Hutch were great goldfish, just swimming around their bowl time and time again. Over the couple or so years I had them I must have put lots of those green plastic plants into the bowl because I remember this one day I was cleaning the plants as well as the bowl. The fish were in a bucket of water on the kitchen floor and I can still invoke the smell on my hands of the slime from the plants and from scrubbing the glass.
What I didn’t realise was that the bucket had been used for bleaching the floor in the porch. The fish had been in there for around an hour I guess. They didn’t look so good when I put them back in their bowl and called my Mum through to have a look. They seemed a bit listless – if you can get a listless fish. (?) All motionless and big eyed! There was little we could do. Mum scooped them out and rinsed the bowl. She even rinsed the fish out under the kitchen tap! Just picked them up and cupped them in her hands with the tap on.
It did perk them up, but only for a day or two. I found both of them floating on the top of their bowl when I got home from school. I did “bury” them so to speak – they were flushed down the toilet the same day!
For a few months after that I would imagine them swimming around in the toilet bowl and I was scared they’d jump up and bite me when I went to the toilet - a sick fish revenge for flushing them away with beached scales.
How good is your memory of childhood?
The inspiration for this blog comes from getting older – turning "thirty something" instead of just thirty to be exact.
I realised that the more I tried to remember my younger days, the more confused my memory became. I frequently mixed up events, could not remember the year or failed to recall an entire event.
During a lazy afternoon in the garden, a glass of wine in my hand, I discovered that my friends recalled more about their childhood than I did.
It got me thinking about the marvel that is the human brain. Different people have the capacity to recall different things and make it seem effortless – I’m sure you all know someone who is good at remembering dates and events from history, capital cities, political debates and the like. Maybe someone else is good at trivia, whilst others can remember specific events that are ten or more years old. Which category did you fit into?
I still don’t know which category I am in, but my husband would probably say that I have a memory for trivial information – shopping lists, where things have been left etc.
So I thought, at as a result of my contemplations that I would record my memories in this blog. These memories specifically relating to the first time I did something over the last 30 or so years.
I hope it will evoke your own memories, perhaps remind you of things forgotten. It might make you laugh or even cry as you recall your own memories. At the very least it should be a great discussion at the next gathering of friends, old and new.
So I invite you to read my blog full of my memories and memories of those I come across who which to share their stories too.......perhaps you'll post some of your own........
I realised that the more I tried to remember my younger days, the more confused my memory became. I frequently mixed up events, could not remember the year or failed to recall an entire event.
During a lazy afternoon in the garden, a glass of wine in my hand, I discovered that my friends recalled more about their childhood than I did.
It got me thinking about the marvel that is the human brain. Different people have the capacity to recall different things and make it seem effortless – I’m sure you all know someone who is good at remembering dates and events from history, capital cities, political debates and the like. Maybe someone else is good at trivia, whilst others can remember specific events that are ten or more years old. Which category did you fit into?
I still don’t know which category I am in, but my husband would probably say that I have a memory for trivial information – shopping lists, where things have been left etc.
So I thought, at as a result of my contemplations that I would record my memories in this blog. These memories specifically relating to the first time I did something over the last 30 or so years.
I hope it will evoke your own memories, perhaps remind you of things forgotten. It might make you laugh or even cry as you recall your own memories. At the very least it should be a great discussion at the next gathering of friends, old and new.
So I invite you to read my blog full of my memories and memories of those I come across who which to share their stories too.......perhaps you'll post some of your own........
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