yes, indeed. the title of this post was going to be called this used to be my playground, look you see. however, i suspect that i have used that title before. also, it tends to act as a bit of a magnet for both Madonna fans and those who get quite cross at films which mix the milk that is Tom Hanks and the water that is baseball films. as you shall observe, should you read on, i was in fact perfectly capable of holding my head up. the fiddled with Bowie lyric was just the first thing what came to mind.
so, after my last post some of you might, if you take the time to think, consider my life all about being some sort of bait or honey trap for the authorities of Hartlepool. i promise you this is not the case, nor never shall be, so long as i have the muscular ability to fight it off. life rather lets me take strolls down memory, so to speak, lane.
oh, yeah - for those who do not care so much for me, be warned, as the following images are all them selfie type things. each one features moi. as the text will be all reminiscing and sentimental hygiene, well, warned you have been on every front imaginable.
from a strange twist in co-incidence or a benevolent accident by those who know not what they inadvertently did, my travels took me to the above of late. just what or where the above is would be of interest to me. that's a field, or a farmer's field, or the field of a farmer, that i used to play in. quite some time ago. how long ago? as point of fact, the last time i was on the other side of the hedge, in the field, there were four Beatles alive and well.
it all felt kind of weird and strange, really. for the last few years this place, the one which was once home before i by default and design took off around the world, has always been in touching distance. it just never occurred to me to go and have a gander, or perhaps the constraints of time meant thinking and doing such was simply not at all possible.
and there i am at some shops, up the road from where was once home, and across the road from a school i once attended. memories of the latter are limited. i can recall films on a projector in a hall, i think Watership Down was once such screened. a teacher was called Ms or Mrs Robinson or Robson or similar. further, i am convinced a classmate, perhaps he was even a friend, had the surname Porridge, or one which sounded quite the same.
with regards to the shop, two memories come to mind. back then children could roam and wander relatively freely and mostly unharmed, unless they wrote in to Jimmy Savile to be on his show and then it was taken that tacit consent had been given for all sorts of things, as it turns out. anyway. once my Mum sent me up to fetch what i thought she said was a "cassette", which was exciting, as even then i had a thing for tapes. alas, it was in fact the "gazette" i was sent for; a regional or if you will provincial newspaper.
the other memory of the shop was being laughed at, or maybe with. i was sent with money and a note, and on the note it was scribed "Lee to keep change". i can recall the shop proprietor laughing, saying he was called Lee (he wasn't) so he must be able to keep it.
yes, by that field again. i am not sure if we were told such as a warning and it was fabrication or true, but i clearly remember being told that we'd get knacked off of the farmer if he ever caught us in the field. perhaps it was an effort to discourage us from crossing a rather busy road to get to it.
with this in mind, one more vivid memory comes. i can remember a friend and i squatting behind the hedge, watching the cars. we made up convincing stories, saying that whoever was driving the car was "so and so" relative of the farmer. no idea why we did this; perhaps to scare each other or maybe just a pass the time game in those hedonistic pre-technology, amuse yourself days.
to my shame i cannot recall the name of either that friend, or any. hundreds, thousands of extraordinary, wonderful people have shared the same space as me, if even sometimes only for a minute or two. as fondly as i recall time with just about all, the specifics are lost somewhere in my memories.
indeed, something in the background there may or may not be of significance or consequence to me, you, someone, no one, this post or another. the time just seemed to make it right to take the image.
whenever someone asks me of regrets in life, there is normally just the one. actually there are several, hundreds arguably, but just one that is suitable for polite company. so little of my life has been stood still. the price for travels, seeing fantastic places and meeting amazing people, is that i never got to settle or feel stable. fate robbed me of growing up with the same people. i went through different stages of my life with different people. as grateful as i am to them and for all of that, it always feels like i missed something.
the above sounds terrible to the many dear friends i have here, there and everywhere. but they will understand. more often than not there was a quirk or incident which meant that we had no common, shared experience in our background to fall on as a frame of reference. somewhat isolated and alone has been the prevailing sense i have had in this world as a result. yes, undoubtedly some of that from my own doing.
as far as i can work out, then, that would be the farm house where the angry farmer lives or lived. sure, it was tempting to go knock on the door and say "hello, i don't suppose you would remember me, but i used to sneak into your fields and play back in 1979". but, perhaps now it is a different farmer. also, maybe it is the same and he really does get quite cross and i might have got shotgunned.
besides, i had things to do, places to go, people to see. one can only indulge going back in time so much until the reality of going forward with it comes to be.
no idea if anyone has any interest at all in this, but if so, well, then, so much the better.
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment