Jam Jars and Fishing Nets
I was born in London at home and delivered by midwives instead of the hospital. It was quite common at that time. We lived in the downstairs half of a house with an elderly neighbor occupying the upstairs. Her name was Mrs. Philpott and my mother would always refer to her as such because everything was more formal in those days. My earliest memories are of my older brother and sister setting up a tent in the back garden and we would camp out. It was like having my own little house. I loved it!
Sometimes they would take me on the bus to a park and we would walk to the river carrying our fishing nets and jam jars on a rope to catch tadpoles. Once when I was four, I fell backwards in the river and had to ride home on the bus wearing nothing but my Mackintosh. My brother had to carry my wet clothes in his hands. My mum was upset but let us put the tadpoles and spawn in a big tub and we would watch them every day to see them grow legs 2 at a time until they became tiny black frogs.
We moved from that house when I was six to somewhere bigger and brand new but there was no back garden to speak of and the river was further away.
Special moments live in a place deep in the heart Never forgotten Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing All Rights Reserved
Lillian is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and she has prompted us with the earliest memories from our childhood. Perhaps the house we grew up in or a family event.
