Thursday, March 17, 2005
Retrieval part 2 (of many)
And another one…
Tell me all about 10-year-old you
It's 1989 and I live in the same house I have lived in since November 1979 when I was 6 months old, and which I still live in now as a 25-year-old.
My two older brothers (I am youngest by 9 and 11 years) still live with us but not for long. In fact, JR (21) may have already moved out; certainly he and his long hair wont stay in the house much longer. He is in a band called The Love Children and periodically he will bring home cuttings from the local paper about the "hordes of whirly indie-girls" who attend their sporadic gigs. I occasionally hear music coming from his room as I lay in bed at night. I think it is all, without exception, complete shit. Five years later I will not (he used to play The Stone Roses album sometimes). Jim (19), the other brother, has only recently decided to be called 'Jim'; Mum and Dad still call him Jamie. He plays music too; cheap-sounding punky stuff by men with bad trainers and jeans and scruffy hair. He gives me some old tapes and I love them dearly - Open Up & Say Ahhhh by Posion (this has a song with the word 'sex' in it which I am thrilled by), Apetite For Destruction by G'n'R. I also find and steal a copy of Misplaced Childhood by Marillion; I don't know which brother it belonged to, but it stays on my walkman for ages. From 14 on I will hate it to death. At one point Jim says "shouldn't you be into music and football by now? Are you gay?" I have no answer.
A girl called Skye and a boy called Andrew will tease me a lot at school and make me miserable. I will hate them. I am not cool and have no interest in sport (this will change in a year when I start playing football for fun) but I am good at talking and reading and writing and acting; I am in LOADS of plays and stuff, everything possible at school that involves getting on a stage and talking loudly. I am all set to play Fagin at one point, but I'm ill and the understudy has to take over. I am mortified; I had a false beard lined up and everything. (I desperately want sideburns from about this point, due to seeing Beverly Hills 90210 - I have never mentioned this before to anyone.)
I have my first kiss, a tentative and frankly frightened touch of the lips with a girl called Amanda. I get called 'gaylord' a lot at school even though I'm sure I'm not gay. It may be because I wear a sweatband for no reason. I stop wearing the sweatband. I read a book called 'Airship' which is big and thick and belonged to one of my brothers. It has some shagging in it and I am immensely excited by reading this under the covers. I am so excited I can no longer stand wearing pyjamas and begin to sleep in the buff, a trend that continues to this day.
It's at about this point that the fileds behind my house, always a source of great mystery and excitement whenever me and Jim go adventuring with the dog(s) [we had three at one point, which may have been for a while in this year], start to be developed into a much shoddier, council-funded echo of the estate we live on, which was built in the 70s and modelled on Clovely. My best friends are Jonny who lives down the road and Matt who I go to school with. I have a nascent interest in roleplaying games and stuff, having deemed myself too old for Transformers and Action Force now. I draw a lot, and am a very fine, if overly fussy, artist. I hate paint and colour though; everything has to be drawn in HB pencils with lots of harsh lines and shading. I hold my pen weird and get given one of those strange triangular rubber grips to put round it. My handwriting is awful, but what I write is ace. I still hold my pen weird, and writing for any length of time makes my thumb sore.
I get chosen to go on television! On a gameshow called Clockwise made by the BBC. We spend a day in Bristol filming it and my team (me and Becky - she answers more questions than I do) win! However, we don't win the big prize (a ghettoblaster) and I am mortified; the presenter (Darren Day!) is infuriated that it takes about ten takes of us at the end to get a useable smile&wave out of me in particular. Fuck the Pound Puppies - I wanted that ghettoblaster really badly. I hate ITV. I wont watch it. I don't know why. It scares me. I think it reminds me of Wayne's house, which is smaller than mine and darker too (we got to watch Robocop there on his ninth birthday, and eat egg&chips).
I love The Field at the bottom of the hill, and I dearly love The Swamp which is a small pond with an island at one end, hidden by trees. When i was younger it froze one Xmas and my brother got me to walk on the ice - I think it cracked and I fell in but I can't remember it well. It's in about 1989 that the council dig a larger, shallower pond slightly above The Swamp, and it fucks the water table of The Swamp up, meaning it is no longer a challenge to get to the island, and thus it loses it's magic. From this point on I hate the council. JR has written a song called "TDC No Ball Games" for his band (TDC = Teignbridge District Council).
Me and Jonny race down the hill to The Field on our bikes; mine is a hand-me-down Grifter, his is a flash mountain bike. I bottle out halfway and slam on my brakes, causing me and Grifter to tumble arse-over-tit-over-wheels. Jonny sees this and sees the Grifter land on top of me. It's a heavy bike and he thinks I might be dead so he runs and gets his mum. I am OK; just a bit battered. I don't ride the bike much after that.
3/17/2005 09:11:00 am