A childhood memoir of life before polio, and immediately after, and my magical childhood adventures in and out of a wheelchair
In The Beginning
My beautiful mother aged 17
I was born 13th of December I944 at 3.40am. My first memory was of my mother sitting at the window holding me whilst she sang: ‘'loo la loo la loo la loo la bye bye, do you want the stars to play with, the moon to run away with….little man, you’ve had a busy day.'’ Then a fragment, a piece of memory, where I was lying warm and snug in my bed nestling a toy steam roller, there was a candle flickering in a saucer of water: those little stubby candles no more than an inch tall, wrapped in fireproof paper.
Then, in a blink, I was out in the burning sunshine, the heat of summer hot on my head. I must have been about four. The broken wings of my balsa wood glider were shattered in the dust of the gutter outside my father’s fish restaurant: The Oyster Bar. Then, transported as if in a dream, to a wet seafront, I was gliding, yes gliding, as once my balsa wood plane had done. All my thoughts were of getting home. The streetlights were out and it was raining.
I was alone, always alone. Alone in order to go home, no one to go home but me, no one to hold my hand, no one to guide me or lead the way. This was to be the way of it, always the way of it.
Suddenly, I wake up. Filled with such happiness that I would sing, sing with the joy of just being alive. I don’t know of what I sang but I sang. Even my father’s voice telling me to ''Pipe down, you happy little sod!'' did not deter me. Such happiness was mine and mine alone.
[previous] [contents] [next]
[Return to Home Page]
