You're the Inspiration

Many thanks to vivacious for the great header.

You’re the Inspiration

By

Chicago – 1985

I don’t recall anything particularly dramatic happening in 1985, although the year will always stand out in my mind for one special first in my life. I recall this phase as one of the most comfortable and probably happiest of my adult life. Uneventful maybe, but time has taught me that in itself is something to be grateful for.

We’d settled well into our new home and I grew to love the neighbourhood as it was back then. It was a short walk to the shops, a local park and public transport. I was able to be more independent during the day when David was at work and visit places and friends with Paul. We’d often go what Paul called ‘exploring,’ walking our dog in nearby and very pretty woodland which we all loved, whatever the season.

Now he could walk and talk I really enjoyed my little boy’s company and sometimes pondered if it was time for another baby. Another regret to add to my long list, but at the time it seemed impractical. I was approaching thirty-five which seemed old to be contemplating a child; the thought I’d be forty by the time it started school seemed quite horrifying at the time. Our home only had three bedrooms and obviously Paul and Louise needed one each. I was earning a little and without that income and another mouth to feed we’d have probably struggled. Besides, life was ticking along quite nicely, why risk spoiling it? I wish now I’d made a conscious decision one way or the other, but it was something I kept putting off and of course, inevitably it became too late. The penalty for being a bit of a ditherer and finding decisions difficult. to make.

I was offered a little work at my old school Kingsway, which was now within walking distance. There were still some of my old colleagues there and I found the new Head teacher and members of staff pleasant and amenable to work with. On days I didn’t work I saw friends with children and went out with my Mum when she wasn’t working at the Nottingham Castle Museum, a job she adored. I also enjoyed anything creative and did a lot of knitting, gardening, baking and other crafts. Simple times looking back; before the advent of computers and technology.

My first visit to Wimbledon that year will always be a special memory I will hold in my heart. I’d always avidly watched the Championships on television and in 1985 we managed to secure two tickets for the Men’s final. I’d be going with my Mum and was really looking forward to this new experience, although we were more or less certain we’d be watching the antics of a certain Mr McEnroe who was the dominant male player at the time. But as the tournament progressed, more and more of the seeded players were knocked out and we were left wondering who on earth we’d be watching on the Centre Court that final Sunday.

I’d been following the progress of a new face at Wimbledon and was very impressed by the play and character of this young German player. And so it was, we found ourselves sitting on the Centre Court at Wimbledon in glorious sunshine, witnessing history in the making.

My first visit to Wimbledon; a day I’ll never forget.

Watching seventeen-year-old Boris Becker raise the trophy as the youngest ever, first unseeded and German player to win the Wimbledon Championships was an honour I’m eternally grateful to have witnessed. Over the years my respect and admiration for this man blossomed and he has indeed been quite an inspiration to me, both as a sport’s personality and a philosophical soul. Okay, there was the broom cupboard incident, but proof we’re all human and no one is perfect.

Vivien and family could not accompany us on holiday that year for various reasons, so we spent a week of mixed weather in Yarmouth. Louise was a teenager by now and Paul approaching four, but even so, we still enjoyed our family holidays together.

Sheltering from the rain at Yarmouth. Boozers start young in my family as you can see and yes, the Thomas the Tank Engine sweater was my own creation.

Paul loved the television series of Thomas the Tank Engine with Ringo as the narrator, so that was the theme of his birthday cake in September. It was a beautiful, sunny autumn day and we were able to hold his party outdoors.

Paul’s fourth birthday and yes, I made the cake myself. I think we’d had to move our budgie (RIP Sid) into the kitchen to avoid collisions with bouncing four-year-olds.

No doubt there were bad days, worries, phases of illness and some restlessness, but looking back on this era I realise on the whole I had little to worry about most of the time and a lot of happy memories in the making, which I now treasure.