I supposed my first memory. I have been thinking for a while the first memory comes to mind being on Holiday on Romani. Quiet similar to the river but in some ways totally different I was about eight I had very fair hair really unusual in Italy at the time traditionally usually black hair quiet latin look that kind of thing. So my parents kind of seduce me as almost bate in a way To cross the road is quiet hard because obviously a lot of cars going by that kind of thing assuming about but they used to effectively choke me out in the middle of the road to stop cars so they can cross, everywhere I used to go because my hair cut was so different people were kind of come chat and talk and use to be a social event and you always meant to feel quiet special some ways and quiet unique because you are quiet different to how people looks I supposed that’s my first memories. I remember also being thought for one of the waitress how to fillet a fish for the first time always remember and always come back to one of those when you are extra annoyed from people.
I think is quiet difficult to think in early memories because most of them are snapshots or photographs and you can’t really remember any kind of words or voices but probably the first I remember is my grandfather he use to be a little bit of inventor and he had this shed at the top of the garden where he had all this amazing things in kind of like he built all this houses they had all this kind of moving bits and very mechanical some them kind musical some them just moved or others kind both and I remember being sitting on the shelter of my grandfather with my brother. I must to be about three or four looking at this kind of amazing toys I guess So he was always creating things and always encouraged us to create things. And he always use to say us we could be able to create we wanted whenever we wanted to and I always remember he had this massive head of hairs this massive wiry hair my brother and dad have heritage but luckily I haven’t which is great. We made dents on the house from like blankets cousins and just kind of bits and we create this different world that was completely secret just to me my brother and my Grandfather and we sit down there for hours. I don’t really sure what we actually did but I can remember sitting there kind of hidden from the world. And that’s probably the earliest thing I can remember Always in the lunch never anywhere else on the house probably because my gran was always cleaning and use to get bigger an more elaborate so we can move the furniture to make kind of corridors or secret places we could go.
Waking up in my room on my Birthday. When I was awake my dad told me to look out of my bedroom window as they had a surprise for me. I looked out to see a big blue bouncy castle with soldiers on the front . I began to cry. The next part of the day is unclear. Later I remember being picked up by my dad while the birthday party was in full swing, he picked me up and brought me to outside the bouncy castle. Lots o other children were bouncing on it. I again began to cry as my dad through me on to the castle. I remember the dark blue moving up and down as the other children jumped. I just cried until my dad picked me off.
One of my clearest memories from I was little I guess I was three years old it is really short it just… I can very lively remember being walk to nursery school by my grandmother holding hands as we were walking up the little incline a little corrugated shut that was the co in Pontardawe. That is, it is as insignificant as that it is just the memory of holding my grandmothers hand is so vivid that I can almost feel it everytime I think about it and I think that’s why sticks on my mind basically.
I have been thinking about this and trying to remember what my first actually memory really is a memory that somebody told me about and I remember
because of that or I saw a picture and I remember because of that, something I remember from feeling alive and being there when it happened and I think my earliest memory date when I was about two or two years and half probably not much older than that because after that we moved Paris. And at the time, mum, dad and I lived in Paris
In a old building that hance wooden stair weel and the the steps were quiet pulished wood and quiet slippery and it was on the third floor, the flat was on the third floor and there wasn’t lift because it was an old building, on this 19th century ones. And then it was winter, and actually since was winter I was probably about two because I born on winter, as well so I would been two and Mum had really long winter coat Kind of uncle … long winter coat which is I am not sure if the… is doctor that pattern that is white and black, she was holding my hand on one side and she had a shopping bag, an empty shopping bag, you know the bag to go to do shopping and the pushchair folded up on the other hand and she wearing high heels well not super high but high heels boots and we felt downstairs because my mum’s heel got cought on the coat and I remember tembling down these really pulished wooden steps and mum falling as well and the bag and the pushchair everything ended up and keep landing bellow. I think my mum cried I can’t really remember at the time it was not scary but it was more surprising and I believe that it is the earliest I can remember
I think I was about 3 years old and it was a quiet miserably day because I was wearing a big canvas big stupid hood and I was walking down hammer street with my mother and one of my sisters, Hammer street on Porth. And used to be a bingo quiet near of the bottom with a big horrible combination of green and yellow sign. I can’t remember the writing or anything but the colours were vial And I remember tripping up outside there on the pavement. Just the floor coming towards me and the exactly pattern of the pavement stones so they stuck on me every time I think of it and then looking up the horrible colours of the bingo’s board, and I think that’s all body.
It is me and my sister, and she is sitting on the pram and she is two years younger that I am which it means it is a hot day in the front room of our council house which means it is probably juneish. I was born in September that means I am about two and three quarters. And the point of this memory. It’s, she is sitting on the pram and I am in the front room, we are both in the front room the curtains are drawn and it is a hot afternoon, my parents are busy in the kitchen, sweeping the chymeney and that was they let us for. It is something to do with the heat of the afternoon with the curtains drawn, and I can’t remember why the curtains were drawn to tell you the truth and it could it be that actually my sister was sleeping on the pram and that is why the curtains are drawn because she felt asleep and I am bored. And there is something to do with the heat but also on the table in front room there is my mother’s lipstick and this is an opportunity for me to make looks beautiful my sister like my mother and it is particularly the smell of the lipstick in the hot front room with the curtains drawn I particularly remember. And it is that kind of…. It is a very female smell, and it is very intimate smell and it is a comfortable smell and very…. I can’t remember whether I wake my sister up or whether she was already awake but I made her laugh and she looked as beautiful as my mum. And then my mum and dad came in and they laugh… because she was …. And there is a picture to probe it. I think why my memory stays with me it is because it is the first time I guess I can say I experienced shame because I made a mess of it… and that’s it.
The TV at my grandmother’s house. It was grey with wooden panels – or was that the cabinet it was in? – and next to it was a telephone on a table, one of those where you had to pull the dial around with a finger that made a noise as the dial spun back.
It felt like a full house. My grandmother’s house was a hub for the family and she had seven children – my mother and my aunts and uncles. She actually had eight children once but I never met one of them. His name was Anthony and he died. I think he was ten.
It feels, still feels, like everyone was there but that can’t be right. I might be remembering old photographs instead, like the one where my aunties had put make up on my uncle Chris and he looked embarrassed. Even my memories of that time have curved corners.
I definitely wanted a bottle of milky tea. I can see my hands stretching out for one. Everyone was watching Jaws. They close over my face as the shark swallows, Quint.
I clearly remember this but have no idea if it really happened or not because I have never asked anyone. Maybe I should call my mum and see if she remembers-
-Wow! My mother just called me! Just as soon as I had finished that sentence! Spooky.
I asked her about Jaws and she said she remembered. I was about three years old.
Ian James Gilligan was my best friend. He said his three names as one. We lived on a built cul-de-sac. He lived next door.
Mum and Dad had a Bedford ….. in those days. I was less than 4 years old. I know this because we moved away from there when I was four. We wer playing in the camper van. I somehow managed to let the brakes off. The van rolled down the hill with me in it.
Ian James Gilligan tried to hold it back – unsuccessfully- he was also three years old.
Neither of us were hurt- remarkably. Although my mum nearly gad a heart attack when se looked out of the kitchen window. Somehow the steering wheel made the van turn and come to a halt.
I am a toddler. Maybe two years old. On holiday by the River Thames at Henley. Two hundred miles from my home town of Widnes in Lancashire.
Widnes was a heavy chemical industry town and Henley would feel like a green paradise by comparison.
I’m with my father, mother and my older sister.
All around us there are families picnicking and relaxing – almost as if by the seaside. This is about 1956.
I remember watching lots of these people head down to the water’s edge and then dive in or jump in to go swimming. In this part of the river there were wooden floating perimeter beams to mark out this bathing area.
Something in my tiny brain must have clicked and told me that if everyone else was doing that then I should be doing it as well.
Up I get. Unnoticed by family. I toddle off to the water’s edge and suddenly I’m in the water, then under the water! Completely unable to swim of course.
I’m going down, down, down, sinking, drowning. Above me I can see the surface of the water, distorted and catching the sunlight. The water has a greenish hue. Bubbles surround me – all going upwards while I go down.
Then suddenly I have the image of my father breaking though the surface of the water and reaching down to rescue me. He was wearing a navy blue beret (as a sunhat), sunglasses that clipped onto his spectacles and baggy white tennis shorts.
(Luckily, back at home he ran the local swimming club and taught life saving.)
His hands reached out and grabbed me. I was rescued. I was safe.