My Life - Early Memories

Anyone who knows me, knows that my memory is dreadful, even more so following chemotherapy! I struggle to recall things that others find easy. However I do have the odd sketchy memory.

One of my earliest memories is when I must have been around the age of 2.... My mum was in hospital for a couple of months with complications having my baby brother Gareth. All I remember is coming out of a florist shop, I was insistant on carrying the bouquet of flowers which was bigger than me, then negotiating the door way. I can still see the doorway in my mind and the triangular bouquet of flowers which must have been intended for my mum. I know that someone was offering to help me but I was adamant that I wanted to carry the flowers myself.

As I write, I have just remembered an even earlier event... I must be on a roll!

I used to follow my mum around like a shadow, where ever she went, I went. I had a particular blue stool which I liked, it was sort of like an old fashioned milking stool, painted turquoise with chips all over it, rather tatty really. I started to follow mum around with my stool so that I could sit down with her as she did her jobs.

One day, mum had gone upstairs and I followed with my stool. I remember that it was quite heavy and by the time I reached the top I had to rest. It was at this point that I fell......

I tumbled down the stairs from top to bottom, luckily the stool didn't follow suit! I took myself to a corner in the hall and was violently sick..... I remember the pretty coloured tiles on the victorian floor. Apparently my mum wrapped me up and ran with me to the hospital but I was fine..... obviously!!!

I also remember being smuggled into hospital to see my Auntie Hazel who was in hospital and really wanted to see me. They didn't allow children into hospitals in those days so my dad smuggled me in underneath his brown raincoat with my little legs trying to keep up with his.

When mum was in hospital she used to watch me and my older brother Peter play outside through the window, she said that the hardest part of being poorly was not being able to see us for months. I found this hard too as I was only 2 at the time and this period in our lives left an indelible mark on me.

I do recall screaming for my mum and bouncing on her bed like a wild baby tiger on all fours, pounding and pounding the bed with all of my might. I remember my Great Auntie Lizzie, hands on hips, trying to get near me with no success and eventually giving up, leaving me on my own until eventually, exhausted, I fell asleep cuddling a piece of mums clothing. I remember that as though it was yesterday although that incident took place 42 years ago. It left me with a deep sense of insecurity......