Thoughts on Memories

While walking along an old cobbled street from one place to another, i was struck by the beauty in the simplicity of nature.

I remembered when I was young and I used to walk our dog with my two brothers in the woods. Somedays it would be frosty and just the lightest of mists would brush the landscape with it's blanket of cotton, and on other days the sun would beat down on us and we would all lie in the adjoining corn fields watching the sky, or play in the shade of the trees.

Sometimes, we would take our bikes and a drink each, then cycle across the countryside like ducks in a line. On our wanderings we would visit our secret spot that we had found, and then on to a small river that we would wade and play in amongst the light rushes.

I remember my Grandad's house and it's garden. He had an old C5 that we used to steer round the ponds and rose beds, more often than not getting it stuck in the orchard. In the second orchard, there was a willow tree so huge you could have built a house round it. Its branches fell to the floor and it always seemed like a fairy tale tree. There was a disused fountain that my father and uncle had ruined in their childhood games, which had never got fixed.

My grandfather had the most wonderful smell, it always reminded me of sunny days and big lunches.

He always smiled.

He was very tall and quite round, and he always talked to you like you were important, although he did have a habit of falling asleep halfway through a sentence, then waking up two minutes later only to carry on as if nothing had ever happened. Generally the rest of the room had carried on a different conversation, and all of us had to backtrack and remember what it was we were talking about!

The first thing that ever struck me as the most wonderful thing about his house was the entrance hall. It had old, dark, polished, wooden Parquet floorboards. Wonderful things for floor-skating on. The kitchen was huge and I would have fit in just one of the two huge stone sinks he had. The whole house was full of nooks and crannys and it was a fun, happy, warm, HUGE house. I miss it; and i miss him too.

I think Raoul is a lovely name. That was his name.

Those rivers are gone now and my bike is rusty,. His house was sold and the only material memory I have left is the baby grand he rescued from a pub, which i fell in love with, but for you they are new and fresh and so i think they will always be there for me too; and anyone who reads this.