when I was 2 (I mean my second year – I was really 1 but you get the idea. It would sound less dramatic if I was to blog ‘when I was in my second year’) it was 1972.
This year I got a new brother, Adrian. He was known as the Golden Pencil as a child. Mainly because he was tall, tanned very well (no such thing as factor 50 for kids in the 1970’s) and very skinny. He is now the golden stubby. Still tall, still tans very well but not much of the skinny left.
He became my chief partner in crime in the coming years and we generally spent most of our time together.
At this stage I still had no memories with the exception of one or two minor memories of holidays. these were all in Ireland and involved a caravan and a beach. If I was lying on the shrink’s couch I’d use the following words to describe my memories of holidays: tall grass, seaweed, sand in your foreskin, white bread and sugar sandwiches, sun shine, sandals, not being aware of any problems in the world.
Nobody died (that I can think of) and my mind is still pretty blank.
I think the house next to us on the cul-de-sac was built in 1972. I was amazed by the builders. By coincidence the same builders have just built my house extension.
#justsayin’ (as we say on twitter)