So where was I? Oh yeah, back in Amersham where I was born. Work and a week's holiday in Spain have put the dampeners on any progress on finishing this part of the blog off. In fact. Remind me NOT to write one of these accounts of a trip in any detail again...too much like hard work ...and dull for everyone else no doubt. I've started so I'll finish...
So there I was, suddenly standing in front of my first ever home, 29 West View in Chesham. Considering I haven't been here since we moved in 1967 it all looks incredibly familiar...and in great nick too. That was my bedroom there right at the front...the memories all come streaming back.
One of my strongest memories of the mid sixties is of Saturday evenings in front of the telly. Usually I would be sat at the dining table making up some kind of Airfix kit I'd had bought for me or with pocket money. For some reason I remember making up this one below. Strange what you remember.
It would be winter and the coal fire would be blazing away in the hearth whilst my mother was making 'tea' in the kitchen, consisting of a baked potato, sausages and baked beans. When it was ready I'd have to push my Airfix bits to one side so we could all settle down to watch scrambling on Grandstand on the telly as we ate...it were reet cozy.
After the scrambling there was probably the football results on that typewriter and then the 'proper' telly started with Dixon of Dock Green. Jack Warner making us all feel safe as he put villain after villain behind bars.
Hark...is that Dr Who about to start? Better grab yourself a cushion and hide behind the sofa as every child under the age of ten did back then...it's true, ask anyone of that era. The sound of the opening theme tune was terrifying enough but when the Daleks and Cybermen arrived all you could do was hold a cushion in front of your face and peep from behind it. Madness.
On a Slightly More Genteel Theme...
At an early age my father began reading me stories that were obviously childhood favourites of his own. The Wind in The Willows by Kenneth Grahame introduced me to the brilliant ink drawings of E.H. Shepherd.