Writing yesterday's blog has got me thinking about my childhood. I was very happy at home, and with my family. And at school, in the classroom, but less so during lunchtimes and breaks. And least happy of all on the journeys there and back.
I grew up on Links View, a fairly modern housing estate in Northampton in the 1970's. My parents had moved there with my three older siblings in 1961, and the house was new when they bought it. I was a bit of a latecomer to the party, and by the time I was starting school, my sisters had both left school, and my brother was probably studying for his O'Levels.
I'm not sure how my parents decided which schools to send me to, and sadly they are not around any more for me to ask. Links View didn't have any schools. It was bordered by golf courses and fields on three sides, with two roads in and out. I lived at Thistleholme Close, and my first school was Kingsley Infants, which would have been the closest. When I started school, my Mum went back to work, and I can remember her dropping me off outside the school on only one harrowing occasion. I don't know how old I was, but I do remember that I sat on the back seat of her Ford Corsair, with her brown leather handbag over my shoulder. When she stopped by the side of the road, I climbed out and she blew me a kiss and drove off. And then I realised that I still had her handbag around my shoulder, and I wailed and wailed. I have no idea what happened next, although I imagine that she probably came back some time later when she realised. She probably took me more than once, but all of my other memories are of, walking on my own, being petrified of crossing Hazeldene Road, which seemed like a multi lane motorway to the five or six year old me. And I remember trying to dodge the savage stray dogs in Rothesay Road. Funny to find out many years later that one of those savage dogs was Ché, Mr C's childhood pet who roamed freely but always stayed close to home, and was actually not savage at all, having no teeth and a friendly temperament. He was still a massive German Shepherd dog and could run nearly as fast as me. And in those days, when being chased by a dog, I was quite fast. I also became obsessed with the inevitable prospect of being kidnapped.
Sometimes I used to walk to my sister's for lunch with her daughter, my niece, who was the same age as me. It was drummed into us that we weren't ever to talk to strangers, but one day an old man who often sat outside his house with his dog Blackie, spoke to us. He said there had been a party at his house, and there were some balloons left over, and he didn't need them any more. He asked if we would like them. My niece ran, but I saw the balloons, and I wanted them. There was a black one with white squares, and a yellow one with blue and white patterns and red and blue ones, both with white spots. They were tied with cotton, and I said "yes please", and took them back to my sister's house. I got into such trouble. And my niece said that he would always be watching and waiting for me, so I made sure that I never walked past his house again. I wonder whether I was a naturally anxious child, or whether everyone just scared the bejesus out of me, and that was the end result.
When I was seven, I moved up to the Juniors. At the Infants school, maybe a quarter of the kids came from Links View, with the majority of the remainder being from Kingsley. Only a handful of them moved on to Kingsthorpe Grove Juniors. Most went to St Matthews, which was also on Kingsley. This was the mid seventies, when there was a lot of upheaval in the Northants schools system, moving from two to three tier, and some schools were closing. Kingsthorpe Grove was not far from my home, as the crow flies, but unless I was to cut across the deserted fields, or walk on the golf course and risk coming across the greenskeeper, I was left with the long walk along Fairway and up Kingsthorpe Grove.
I don't think I knew anyone in my class, and most of the other children had all known each other for their entire school lives, and lived close by. It was a miserable time. And the journeys to and from school were not any easier, with the kidnappers still being on the lookout.
And then aged 9, I moved school again, this time to Parklands Middle School in Devon Way. Also miles away from my house, and accessed by walking through a footpath that crossed the golf course, then up a dark, treelined footpath that ran along the edge of The Girls' School field. It was even worse than facing stray dogs and busy roads. Especially at this time of year, when the clocks had just gone back and it got dark really early. I even wrote a letter to the Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher to tell her of my plight and ask her to stop messing with the clocks. I had a polite reply thanking me for my letter, and noting my suggestion. This was a time when most kids were writing to Jimmy Saville to ask him to make their dreams come true. I was probably a bit quirky, but I think I made better choices than many, in retrospect.
I wonder whether my reluctance to make friends and mix with children of my own age was the result of moving to different schools where I knew hardly anyone, or if it was because I was a child who was surrounded by adults at home, and just preferred their company. I know that the challenges I faced shaped the adult I am today, and that there are still aspects of the child I was that show themselves occasionally. One behaviour stems from my very first year at Kingsley Infants, and I can still remember the horror of it. I was sitting at a table with a group of children, when I suddenly sneezed unexpectedly and the contents of my nose (sorry!) covered the desk and all who were seated around it. And ever since that day, whenever I sneeze, I pinch my nostrils with my thumb and forefinger, to make sure that it never ever happens again.
And another..... My sister always used to make me eat all my peas when I went home for dinner at her house, and I HATED peas. I tried the usual trick of flicking them on the floor, or hiding them under my knife, but she was much too smart. So I had to eat them, but the taste made me gag, so I learnt how to open my throat and swallow them whole. And did the same with other unpleasant vegetables that I was given, such as brussel sprouts. And I still eat peas and brussels whole.
Finally, aged 13, I moved onto secondary school, and suddenly made lots of friends, had lots of fun and absolutely loved all aspects of school. Maybe it wasn't due to my environment or traumas I experienced in my early years, but just that I wasn't very good at being a child, and that I needed to wait until I was a young adult for me to come into my own.
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