Sparkplugs And Warnings

Have you noticed that occasionally during our everyday existence something happens to spark a memory? Take green jelly just out of the packet. The very act of my wife extracting the jelly, while the kettle is boiling, reminds me that at least once in the 50s I consumed a whole packet in one session. My mother looked astonished and I felt guilty. Astonishment and guilt tend to go together.

Looking for a bargain shirt and tie in Tescos [I have no pride just a careful approach to spending that will never work in that cathedral] I came across school caps. The brain flashes 'I lost my very nice cap in 1953' and it reminds me that I had to walk a mile from Unthank Terrace in twilight to what used to be a wood or copse  [not that far from Broadgate] to gather it up from the wet woody floor.

The  perfume from wall flowers reminds me of that church on the right - maybe a hundred yards before Pringle Place. Now why is that? I have no idea - answers on a post card please.  

Bright stars at night - rare these days because of earthly lights and pollution - remind me of a car journey - we were travelling up that  hill just after Broadgate - and were half a mile from New Brancepeth - when I noticed how clear and pure the night sky appeared and how bright the stars were.

Primary colours - often seen on kiddies school equipment - remind me of the bright orange and apple drawings on the board  made by the teacher of infants during the very early 50s. 

Lit Christmas tree bulbs remind me of Whitehouse Court in 1954; in that year I found myself entranced by the tree lights and was no doubt caught up in the excitement of impending Christmas present opening.

Turning to warnings - have you noticed that newspaper obituaries of rock stars usually finish with 'born 1944'  or similiar - whereas most of the other deceased have something like 'born 1924' or earlier. What is it with these rocky roadies?  No doubt some suffer natural causes but I suspect that too many of them were in the drug/alcohol/tobacco trap.  

Time plays tricks and that should be taken as a warning. My time in Ushaw Moor ended in 1960 but seems like a hundred years ago. Now having said that 1968 seems like ten years ago - weird. The internet plays tricks as well - what seems like a forty five minute session is often an hour and a half! Yet and yet - if Derby County are winning an away match 1-0, with five minutes to go, that five minutes seems like half an hour and is agony in the process. Be wary of time - very wary indeed - treat it with respect and live a full life without those awkward regrets at the end: 'I could have been a contender' or 'why did I not walk tall and make people smile?' Why did I not give my wife flowers from the heart every month instead of  biannually?

WB