Find your next favourite story now
Login
Forum
Rookie Scribe
My earliest memories come from when I still lived with my Nan in Deptford. I would have been less than 3 years old because we moved to Kent when I was three.
Sitting on the outside toilet and waving to people as a train went past at the end of the garden.
My Uncle Graham carrying me on his shoulders and bumping my head on the light shade.
My mother trying to distract me by pointing out pigeons as we went for one of my regular (and very painful) treatments at the hospital.
My mum leaving me at home to go and wave her brother goodbye at the airport as he emigrated to South Africa.
Memory is such a strange thing, it defines us in so many ways. It's been great reading other people's memories here.
Sitting on the outside toilet and waving to people as a train went past at the end of the garden.
My Uncle Graham carrying me on his shoulders and bumping my head on the light shade.
My mother trying to distract me by pointing out pigeons as we went for one of my regular (and very painful) treatments at the hospital.
My mum leaving me at home to go and wave her brother goodbye at the airport as he emigrated to South Africa.
Memory is such a strange thing, it defines us in so many ways. It's been great reading other people's memories here.