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Rated: ASR · Non-fiction · Family · #1169455
True Story. Coping with the sad loss of a Mother and facing the same fate too.
Chapter 2
Growing Pains

The first offspring of 3 to my mother and father, I wasn’t planned but was I was certainly wanted and very much loved – even to this day I can feel the love of my father and mother surround me like a warm invisible blanket, enveloping me into security, trying to protect me from the outside world. I grew up as a fun loving child. Yes I got into all the usual childhood scrapes and had all the expected childhood tantrums. I am not saying I was an angel by no means – but life was easy, I suppose it is when you know that no matter what, you are loved and once in the arms of the ones you love, everything else seems to fade into the distance as if it never happened.

As a youngster I found school was an exciting time for me, I loved playing with my friends, found myself absorbed in the worldly facts and figures that the teachers had to offer and whilst most of the time, it appeared to the teachers that I wasn’t paying attention. I was really – I just wanted to be like my friends who always seemed to be so popular with the other children, and so if they didn’t pay attention in class then I tried to look as if I wasn’t paying attention either. This resulted in me be told off on quite a number of occasions and sending school reports on various academic years with the phrases “ doesn’t pay enough attention” “ could do better” “needs to try harder” written somewhere between the pages. This I found out later was to be a phrase used by a lot of teachers on even the brightest pupils exam report, so I wasn’t as bad as I had initially thought I was. But there was a reason for me wanting to fit it and it wasn't just to be popular.

Today bullying is frowned upon – its in the public eye, back in my school days it wasn’t it was very much behind closed doors, and you didn’t dare tell anyone about it – because that just made things worse. I was tall for my age, and painfully thin, Daddy Long Legs, Skeletor, Stick Insect – these were just a few of the names that the other children used when trying to grab my attention or just being dam plain nasty.

I didn’t once let them see that it upset me. Silently in the privacy of the school toilets I would cry, in the bathroom at home, in the garden, anywhere where no one could see. I don’t think the bullying made me stronger I think it just made me more acceptable of other people’s differences, ie race, medical problems and I feel it gave me a strength to accept people for who they are. To this day when making eye contact with a stranger I always say “hello” or I just smile. Seeing some one else smile is intoxicating and feels very rewarding, yes just a simple thing as making someone smile I now take such pleasure from – silly I know, but to me it means the world.

As a child I was privileged to have visited quite a number of foreign places whilst on holiday, the one that stands out most in my mind was the South of France, my mother and father had hired a caravan in St Tropez and had decided upon us driving to France rather than flying. The drive to France was not really a memorable one and most of it I cannot really remember however getting lost and hearing Donovan and “Michelle” by the Beatles blast out from the car cassette player spring to mind. France was a wonderful place, not just because of the gorgeous sunshine, but silly funny things that which will only be funny to you if you had been there. Like the time when my mother ordered 5 hotdogs of a vendor on the beach, and we each ended up with a French stick which was longer than my 9 year old arm which enclosed the most enormous hotdog that I had ever seen. We laughed so much that ketchup ran down our faces. We did not make the same mistake twice and when we next ordered hotdogs it was only 2 so that we could share them. The caravan park was great, swimming pool, crazy golf; there was enough to keep up all entertained. On the beach we played in the sand and in the sea we jumped on and off our lilos enjoying the summer sun.

One day whilst on the beach my father,brother sister and I took a pedal boat out into the sea and decided to pedal over the island were the man in the Iron mask was kept. You could go up onto the island but by the time we had pedaled our way over to the island it was getting late and consequently we couldn’t disembark. The journey back to the beach was one thwart with anxiousness, uncertainty, the sea had now become rougher, the waves lapped over the sides of our pedal boat, it was getting late and we were now pedaling against the undercurrents in the water that surrounded us, and amongst all this time of feeling terribly scared my father then tells me that the fish that have been swimming around up in the dark blueness of the sea are in fact Sharks. To be honest apart from being scared stiff, my pulse raising and being conscious aware of my heart pounding out of my chest, my breathing becoming more rushed and forceful, I don’t actually remember reaching the shore, but me being here to relive this tale is a sure sign that we did.

Luckily enough we were still in the South Of France on July 4th Bastille day a time of great celebration for the French. My memory of this date is very faint, I remember my mother on the evening of 4th July dressing my sister and I in matching outfits, lilac silk skirts, and white silk blouses, very pretty ensembles which we had had the privilege of choosing before our holiday and which we had save for such an occasion as this. My brother was dressed in smart shorts and t shirt. On the promenade fireworks could be seen lighting up the moonlight sky, they looked as though they were coming straight up out of the ocean. Bright speckles of light shone before our eyes, like magic shooting right up to the farest reaches of the sky and falling gently down – not reaching the ground just fading more and more as they fell until they were no more..A photo of my brother, sister and I sat on the promenade wall with the fireworks in the background now hangs on my fathers wall as a reminder to this happy childhood memory, and it is only in later life looking at this photo that I realised that there was a wooden raft in the sea, and that is where the fireworks had been lit from.


Like most childhood memories they are faint but yet somehow some to seem to stand out more than others. A holiday in early 80’s was a time in my life that was filled with fun and excitement and yet it was probably the first time that I realized just how tall and skinny I was.

We were on a family holiday to Bulgaria. Golden Sands was a lovely place, it was uncrowded as to be honest it wasn’t yet on the map as a popular tourist destination. Our days were spent on the beach or in the hotel pool. One day my mother and father took the 3 of us on a Robinson Crusoe Cruise, which went to a small island. On the island we had karaoke, and a lunch, which was a barbecue of freshly just caught fish, it was gorgeous and I remember going back to the hotel with backpacks full of oranges from the island. In Bulgaria oranges were scarce, so we were really popular with all the hotel staff because of all the oranges that we had brought back and it felt good. Whilst in Bulgaria, my father even got to play football at the Stadium in Bulgaria. It was a great day out for us all and one that my father still fondly recalls to this day.

I was about 10 when we visited Bulgaria and the other main memory that I can recall is that I can see my sister brother and I walking along a road, dressed in shorts, small t shirts and plimsols, the weather was hot and humid the sun shone brightly and it seemed to my siblings and I like we were in some exotic paradise. Behind us followed our mother and father and clearly as if I was standing right between them I can hear the content of their conversation, which was along the lines off . “Don’t you think her ankles are too thin – her bones protrude too far out – it cannot be right” “maybe we should get her checked out” I am not too sure as to who said what – but I can hear the words in my head as clearly as if there were being spoken right here and now.

This changed the way I felt about myself and I suddenly realised that not only did my friends see me as being “too tall and thin” but suddenly my family did too......

to be continued......
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