As dawn rises, I use the rosy tint from the clouds to think of my childhood (661 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.33 on 10 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by PAS (View user info) at 2004-08-26 02:06:29 EDT
I'm remembering fondly how easier life seemed growing up. How I could go out to play, have adventures and be home in time for tea. How all decisions were made for me yet all I wanted was to be grown up.
I loved the outdoors and nature so much then. Surprising really, as we didn't grow up in an idyllic part of England with farmland, horse riding and a pond in the back garden. Our escape was the greenery on the banks of the railway lines, the common ground outside the council estates, the few parks that existed in the east end of London.
We loved to go blackberry picking, growing wild in bushes on the outskirts of a car park. Mum would make blackberry crumble and jams. She grew up in Ireland where countryside was abundant and more easily accessible. Here we had to hunt for our nature and cherish it where we found it, even if it meant catching two buses to Epping Forest.
I loved school day trips, out and away from the traffic, pollution, graffiti and general ratmaze of London - to a sunny forest, holding hands to cross the road, being taught about wildlife, looking on in horror as the teacher picked up rabbit droppings and opened them up to see the grass inside.
Those rare days out as a family when my father wasn't so drunk he was incapable of driving. Seeing the beautiful bright green of the 'fairy grass' in the woods and wanting to dance on it, my head full of childish tales of sprites and wishes. Being surprised to find I was sinking into a bog and that was why the grass was so green. That bog claimed my shoe and my tears.
My brother, on one of his many adventures, befriended a tramp (hobo) who lived in a dirt hole in wasteground some miles from our home. His name was 'trampus' and my brother took him food and company. My parents were concerned that he was friends with a homeless fellow but they didn't stop him spending time with this man. I sometimes think about trampus, a broken man, a divorcee, an alcoholic, who had turned his back on society, to die in misery in solitude and dirt.
I envy trampus because he was free from constraints and expectations. He didn't beg on street corners, he walked back into the forgiving arms of Mother Nature. That is how I'd like to die. Sometimes I feel suffocated by these walls.
"I would love to go
back to the old house
but I never will"
User Reviews
Submitted by Caulaincourt (user info) at 2004-08-26 16:10:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Not bad, not bad.
Submitted by espo (user info) at 2004-08-26 11:24:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"How I could go out to play, have adventures and be home in time for tea."
haha..."tea"
silly british.
good post
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2004-08-26 10:32:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by I_Have_a_Kristen_Fetish (user info) at 2004-08-26 06:53:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-08-26 04:07:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
what does wasteground mean? I find the word facinating.
Submitted by Sacrew (user info) at 2004-08-26 03:58:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Morrissey.
No.
Submitted by yidele (user info) at 2004-08-26 03:50:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
rosetint my world, keep me safe from the trouble & shame...
Submitted by ParlorTrick (user info) at 2004-08-26 03:49:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"...he walked back into the forgiving arms of Mother Nature."
It's nice to read something so classily human and simply sweet.
Uber has me conditioned to expect murder at the end of each post.
(Nice coat)
Submitted by PeopleAreStrange (user info) at 2004-08-26 03:48:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'd liked this, and if no-one else does, I don't care!
+2 for sentimentality, reflection and Morrissey.
Submitted by bart (user info) at 2004-08-26 03:47:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment