I suppose as you get older your mind tends to look more often at the past and focuses in on tiny details of things that happened. A couple of times recently I've found myself musing on one particular day. It must have been a school day in September, 1948. The three people in the scene were my mother, me and a girl who lived in same tenement building as we did. I knew it was a school day because the girl was on her way home from school and was bringing a (verbal) message from the headmaster of the local school to my mother.
Clearly my mother had been in touch with the school about my possible enrolment and the message in reply was that, yes, there was a place available for me at the school and I could start immediately. I suppose I remember the circumstances so clearly because it was big day in my life and going to school was something I had been looking forward to.
I had always understood that I started school when I was 4 years and 7 months old and, as the school year in the UK starts in September, the dates fit. It's always reassuring when aspects of memory fit with the known facts. I'd hate to think I was making things up.
No comments:
Post a Comment