My childhood story up until the point of starting School.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
An edited childhood memoir up until the point of starting School - a work of fiction completely plagiarised from my memories.

Submitted: September 13, 2012

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Submitted: September 13, 2012



It started, quite rightly, at the beginning, as most things do nowadays (and the furtherawayadays I imagine)

I don't think anyone knew it would end up like this. Especially not me. And especially not me at the beginning. But then at the beginning, I couldn't not talk, nor care for myself - after all I was merely a new born.

Born somewhere on this planet (Scotland) sometime during the year (October) into a family (a mother, father and a sister).

I shall not bore you the unpleasantries involved in the birth, I imagine you may have been through something similair, if not, then you know of someone who has. I would not like to make you think of that day. I'm aware you and I, both cried on this very same day. Not on the 28th October, but perhaps on your on day of birth. Perhaps you did cry on the 28th of October, perhaps you knew, secretly, what lay a-head for me? Perhaps someone did know after all.

I shall also not dwell to much on the last 20 odd years. For my pen does not have enough ink. Infact, my pen doesn't have any ink. Which, luckily for us dear Reader is perfectly OK. As I am typing on a keyboard. A QWERTY keyboard.

Enough. I shall begin the story. I was born at a young age, so young infact, my family and I never had a chance to celebrate my first birthday until 12 months AFTER the day I was born. Yes. A whole 12 stinking months, full of tears, laughter, sights, sounds, smells, atmospheres and tastes. Absolutely none of which I can remember. As much as I try (which is very little).

I've celebrated a few of my birthdays, most of which I can't remember. I mainly can't remember the first 4 or 5 of them and the last 4 or 5. My earliest abiding memory is nursery school. Two things happened at nursery, one of which I recally vividly. The 2nd I know off through hear-say. The first was the nursery teacher, who I imagine was a stricht disciplinarian, made us eat haggis for lunch. Yes. Haggis. For a toddler. At lunch. I can still taste it. I can't eat (or hear mentioned) haggis with out thinking back to those days. She terrified me. The 2nd of which was a story passed for my mother to I. The nursery disciplinarian was the first person to notice I needed glasses and was colour blind. To this day I wear glasses and am colour blind. She said I couldn't do jigsaws. Perhaps I just never wanted to do them? Perhaps I WANTED TO PLAY WITH THE GOD DAMNED TOYS. But as such, she seen through my lack of interest in jigsaws and started the ball rolling in my eye-glass-wearing-formative-years. I can remeber the first pair however, there must have weighed as much as my scrawny face and looked even more ridiculous. I can't remember people saying I was a cute child, not even when looking back at picutres of me.

Many years later, I would come to like wearing glasses but for the time being, in the interest of the story I mostly disliked them but carried on wearing them regardless. I can't remember having friends at nursery, but my note keeper (mother) does. I had a friend called Scott. I still know Scott, we're not friends as such and I have never wondered if he knew we were friends at such a young age. Perhaps we grew to dislike each other during these years, but have both forgotten - but somewhere in the back of our minds we know. Perhaps not. Perhaps we went to different schools and one of us moved. But that would be spoiling the story if I were to tell.

Before starting school I moved. I went to a different school than those at the nursery. Years later I met a person I knew from nursery called Scott. My first memory of school is not being able to open a banana and crying. My sisters earliest memory is not being able to open her school bag. I often wonder (by often I mean I just have now wondered) if that is a family trait. Some families have figthing personalities, some have physical characterstics, some familes move a lot, some families break up, maybe ours can't open things. I can now open bananas and my sister can open bags. I'm told.

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