This week’s prompts: childhood or deluded.
The 7am news blasts out from the old Bakelite wireless, our way of staying touch with the outside world. Mum has it playing loud for two reasons, so she can hear it and to remind us kids that its time to be getting up and readying for school.
It’s part of our education, One November morning a President is assassinated, on a cold winters morning my mother greets me with the news the Pope has died.
My environment is the street I live in, the backyard where serious cricket matches are held, where solo test matches are conducted up against the stairs, an old oiled bat, a pair of ill fitting pads on my shins and a ball that has been struck to many parts of my yard, a dog eared score book records each game played as much in my head as on the pages.
Easter arrives and dad’s sisters arrive, we wait for them in the cool April evening, the train puffs in, they alight, we are keen for their visit.
Childhood was radio, newspapers, neighbours, school days and bikes. Made up games and friends a bike ride across town.
We never wanted for what we didn’t know, a neighbour had a phone, a three-digit number was all it took. We managed in our own ignorance of so much that today we take for granted.
gathered at the stove
winter evenings spent toasting
it was what we knew