Tuesday, February 05, 2013
A bit more pondering
Grandson laughs. What's he looking at?
A huge screen with an iguana (is it?) shooting its tongue out and catching a fly.
Yet another visit to the museum today. I love seeing the little chap stride out manfully beside the big one.
Later I met up for lunch with two old school friends whom I haven't seen for a few years. We've known each other since we were five. It was very nice indeed. I was struck by three things that they remembered about me which I have no memory of at all. One: that I went to a party at K's house when I was little and was frightened of her dad because he had a moustache. Two: that I once had a party at which people gave me "bumps"* and they got carried away with over-enthusiasm and my mum had to rescue me. Three: that my mum once told me not to talk to K because she had told me a rude rhyme!
All these things seemed most unlikely but presumably must be founded on fact. Yet they rang no bells with me. My view of my childhood is made up of quite other stories but now - especially now that I've written about these things - it's expanded slightly to include that moustache, those bumps, that mysterious rude rhyme. Yet it's a bit late to incorporate them fully into the truth - as I see it - about what it was actually like to be small me. Ah, truth - is there such a thing...?
I seem to be getting a bit philosophical. Back to pictures of cats tomorrow (yes, that was Cassie in the sun yesterday).
* Are bumps a universal thing or peculiarly Scottish/British? Children used to thump each other on the back on their birthdays, one thump for every year of their life.