One of my visits took place during
the Whitsuntide half-term in 1971. I have previously written about being
uprooted from the familiar to the unknown when my father’s job meant a move to
Cheshire. This little holiday was in the middle of that, so I was not at my
happiest, though being with my cheerful, extended family brought me joy. My
aunt had given me one of the big bedrooms over-looking the front garden. It was
bright and welcoming, decorated in pale yellow with a grey satin bedspread and
matching cushions. The printed cotton sheets were a jumbled mass of giant flowers
in yellow, white and grey. I had fun with my cousins but I wasn’t expected to
play with them all the time. The eldest was almost ten years younger than me
and I wasn’t entirely sure where to fit in, but my aunt had it all organised.
The two of us had lots of together time, chatting over a coffee at home, or going out into London. I was completely spoiled by her generosity.
The two of us had lots of together time, chatting over a coffee at home, or going out into London. I was completely spoiled by her generosity.
We wandered around Kensington and
Chelsea, where my aunt bought me a flowery, summer dress from Biba and a smock
style top in cheese-cloth and lace from a tiny boutique. She refused to let me
donate my spending money.
Another day, we went to a hair
salon, where I expected to wait with the magazines while my aunt had her
appointment, but no, the appointment was for me. This was my first ever ‘cut
and blow’ and I was delighted with my flyaway fine hair tamed into an easy,
carefree style minus a few inches of straggles. We had a night on the town
planned, so wearing my Biba dress and new sandals, we went to the theatre. It
was a variety show with Tommy Cooper and was hilarious all the way through.
My week away was soon reaching an
end and I was beginning to dread going home and returning to the school where I
had no friends and no encouragement from teachers. The only thing I looked
forward to was sending letters to my friends in Blackpool and sharing news of
my time in London. I was about to be cheered by a welcome turn of events.
I’d spent the warm, sunny morning out
in the back garden playing ball with my little cousins. After lunch, the eldest
child and the middle one had been taken somewhere, the sunshine had turned to
rain and I chose to have some quiet time in my room. I sat in the comfy
armchair in the window, half-reading Animal Farm, for school, and watching the
raindrops make perfect circles in the puddles as I twiddled with the necklace
of love-beads I’d bought from Carnaby Street. The blossom covered tree branches
hung low with the weight of water. Occasionally, I had another look at the
essay I’d started to write, dismiss it and return to the book.
My aunt, with a sleepy looking
toddler on her hip, came in smiling.
“There’s good news that I think you
should hear right away.” She said. “Your dad wanted to surprise you, but he’s
happy for me to tell you. You’re all moving back to Blackpool more or less
immediately. He’ll phone after six to speak to you and tell you more.”
I burst into an emotional mix of
tears and laughter. From feeling so miserable, I was the happiest girl ever.
A Haiku
A turn of events
Brought tears and laughter to me.Emotional times.
Thanks for reading, Pam x
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