To be Asked

Intro - Security

My first memories are sunny days in a big house with a deep feeling of security and confidence in my surroundings. I felt very sure of myself as a young child from around about 6 years of age, I was allowed to play out with my friends, walk across the road to my Grannies house or just around the corner to the paper shop to get a comic. The house was in a quiet square with a Mews running behind where the local market traders kept their Barrows. There was very often the utterly recognisable waft of beetroot cooking and the early morning sounds of the Barrows being wheeled out of the cobbled Mews along to the Market.

The school I went to was within walking distance of home, St Peter's C of E School, it's still there and i'm pleased to say that the picture in my memory of that place matches the modern day reality. Battersea Park with it's then Fun Fair was also within walking distance and my Granny and I were regular visitors. Sometimes I would get lost at the Fair and lose sight of my Gran, at which point I'd just walk home! My Mum used to be furious but my Gran and I couldn't really see what the problem was.

I learned to ride my bike with the help of my patient Dad - a 3 wheeler - by going to and fro and up and down the pavements just outside Number 7, our house. One day my Dad presented me with a circular, pale green, paddling pool. In the hot summers of the late 1950's and early 60's this was an item of pure luxury, my friends used to come round and we would sit, play and cool off in that little pool, on the front door step of Number 7. Due to my Granny and Great GrannyFoot living opposite, there was always a sense of being watched over, in a loving and caring way. My Dad, a self employed Electrician, was often popping back home to get supplies from his workshop in the Mews garage.

DOORSTEP GIRL

So one day I found myself with my Mother on our front door step, Dad was at work and the square was quiet. I don't know if it was a school holiday or what - and a taxi pulled up - into which my Mother wanted me to step. At this point I would have wanted to let my Mother step into that taxi instead of me .. the scene would have been me waving goodbye to her.

So Mum would have left my Dad but I would have been given the opportunity to choose - and my choice would have been and still is to stay living at Number 7. I am absolutely certain of that fact - and my whole life has been one of wanting to go back to that point and change the story. The next best thing I can do is to write out like I said at the beginning how things should have been. And it is as though my mind just circles above that world changing idea and won't let me get to the centre of the thought. Well I shall just keep going as I am determined to do this .......