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Memories Outweighing Our Dreams? Never!

January 28, 2011 Leave a comment

I don’t always know the nature of my article until the  very last moment; this one might have been entitled ‘accelerating towards birth’ and very nearly was. After all my mum frequently said to me ‘you almost drowned during childbirth’ . I have been perplexed about that for a long time; was I born during an initially tranquil walk alongside a canal that almost went badly wrong, with mum staggering and stumbling to the canal edge?  Or did the birth occur during an exhilarating water slide journey?

Occasionally a WB article is a vehicle for rant, rather than memories, but thankfully the cluff police [ that’s my name for them] are usually on hand to stop it at an early stage and  thereby save me from appearing to be a complete arse.  Tonight let good old Bill Clinton, from the USA,  be my inspiration.

‘When our memories outweigh our dreams, we have grown old’ stated Mr Clinton.

Well I think he is right. My memories of Ushaw Moor and Sleetburn are almost  all good ones, although I recall the gob into my face; I dwell on the good ones to excess but I estimate that the last two years worth have been mainly motivated by the need to help Paul  keep this site up and moving.

My  memories on this site, that relate to 1950 – 1960, are about the child; they were often  personally exciting events and helped form this adult. But this adult is now fully grown, like a tall tree in the forest. Except when I’m bent over with bad posture. My dreams are those of a man rather than a child; they are  important to me and they bear down at every hint of procrastination.

A dream. I really must explore the idea of visiting residential homes for the elderly, and nursing homes, with a view to reading  good literature to residents and discussing it with them. I will no doubt learn much from it. If a creative writing colleague can agree to join in that would be great.  I must explore this idea next week and act upon it, if the interest is there. I will never turn down any offer of a cup of tea and I ‘ll supply the petrol needed to get me there, if fuel prices slow down a bit.

A dream. To take history as far as I can  academically.I recall fellow student Brenda Wilson of 1968 vintage;  we studied the Normans but now I have my sights on the Reformation, so wish me luck.

A dream.To be the best cook in our extended family. A tough one. Resting on my porridge  credentials simply will not do.

WB

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Categories: Memories