So what about your childhood ?

[Shilo2010]

When I was a kid we lived in a national park just north of Sydney.
Our house was built on stone piers right out over the water.
Sometimes we fished right out the lounge room window. I would wake early in the morning to the sound of water lapping gently against the shore and perhaps the slow cry of a Currawong ringing out through the mist from the distant bank. There was a great diversity of wildlife, Kangaroo's, wombats, Koalas. I spent my days running along the rocks and swimming across the tide pools. If I got hungry I would eat Oysters right off the rocks. There was a cave on the mountain behind the house, many thousands of years before another young boy had left his hand prints on the wall, In many ways we grew up together. It was beautiful country and a terrific childhood. If any of you remember the TV program “Skippy the bush Kangaroo”

[Mary Hatch Bailey]

The details of my life are quite inconsequential.... very well, where do i begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.

My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.

My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

[Mary Hatch Bailey]

Sorry just too good an opportunity to pass up...

[Carpe Diem]

The details of my life are quite inconsequential.... very well, where do i begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.

My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.

My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

Definitely bored!

[Carpe Diem]

Sorry just too good an opportunity to pass up...

You don't have to reply, you know...

[Mary Hatch Bailey]

Oh yes I do!

I had a nice, suburban, American middle class childhood. Being the youngest of six was not always easy -- but I managed. We had a strange menagerie of pets on our little acre of land: tons of dogs, always cats, geese, ducks, fancy pigeons, peacocks, goats, oh the list goes on and on. My father was always scratching his head over some new addition my mother brought home.

We climbed trees, built forts, drank from garden hoses, played 'hide and go seek' and tag. Fished, rode our bikes, went sledding when we could, ice skating too. Watched cartoons on Saturday morning, ate out once a year. Shared one bathroom, one black and white TV. Always had a used station wagon with fake wood panelling.

It was nice really.

[Shilo2010]

So did I just make a di-ck head out of myself or did Mary do it for me ?
lol.
Glad to see it turned out ok in the end. What state Mary ?
Actually Carpe, it was thinking about you that made me leave the post. I know your French, I was wondering where you grew up and what it was like. I have images of the French country side, perhaps a vineyard ?
You as well Eric although in your case it is a windmill.

[Carpe Diem]

Sorry to disappoint you Shilo, but no vineyard in my childhood.

I lived in North of France (not far from England and Belgium). I was also the youngest but of only five. It was quite cool as my parents had been already educated by my older brother and sisters...

It was in a small village. We had a rather big house - an old farm- with some land and a pond. We also had a lot of animals around, dogs, ducks, poultry, pigeons... Later even had some snakes (just to confirm Sapphire ).

I really enjoyed spending my time outside, going into the fields and forests around.

But last time I went back there I was really amazed how everything seemed so small... Did you ever have that impression?

[Bubbles]

No of course you didn't Shilo, that is what's good about forums, you get all sorts of replies. Loved Mary's first, it was so funny.

In seriousness, I had one of what now appears to be a lost and forgotten gift in my childhood.....freedom.

These days kids are watched like hawks and I don't think it does them any favours as they can end up unquestioning and soft.

Of course, it is always the correct thing to do to know where your kids are, but if you're always telling them 'No, don't, careful, what time, don't climb, don't cycle, etc' then you're not preparing them for the big real world.

I lived in the Welsh countryside and gangs of us used to be able to go out all day long, build dens, swim rivers, climb trees, have picnics, ride horses, cycle and all those exciting to kids things.

Mum would say, 'What time are you back?' and I'd say 'For my tea' and that'd be that. Yes, it was different as everyone knew whose kids we were, and we knew almost everyone. You could bet your bottom dollar if you got up to no good your mother would know the ins and outs of it before you got back home, as someone would have gone to tell her.

When I tell kids nowadays we were allowed to go for long walks in the forest and take our picnic lunch, then set up a den there, and perhaps swim in the lake, all without parents, they are absolutely amazed. And no, I don't think I'd be that keen if mine had wanted quite as much freedom, but I did try not to be OBVIOUSLY on their case. I got as much info as I could and then prayed they'd be safe. Of course I didn't let them to completely mad stuff, but you have to give them that belief in themselves as capable beings.

I remember studying for my GCSE's with a gang of others and we climbed the mountain till we got to the reservoir at the top, miles from everyone....it was a scorching summer's day and we thought it'd be a great idea to be so far away, and quiet so we'd get studying done..........of course, no such thing as the books were ignored and we spent the day eyeing the boys up and getting chucked in the water. But what fun, what memories, they can't take them away from you, no matter what. And yes, we did ok at school, even though tons of our time was spent at good old fashioned play.

[Shilo2010]

I know what you mean Carpe. I remember once going out on the ocean in a fishing trawler. The waves where at least thirty feet high or was it that I was only three feet ?
No, I like to think they where thirty feet high.

Your right about what you say about not doing kids any favors by over protecting them Bubbles. My nephew is a great kid, really polite and well behaved. He is a tad soft though. Gosh, I must have had a hundred stitches by the time I was his age.

[Mary Hatch Bailey]

I am forever pushing my little chicks out of the nest. How else do learn about life? How to cope, improvise and deal ?

I think,
what the moral of the story here is,
if you are of a 'certain age' (about to turn 42 !gasp!) -- your childhood has certain common elements with other of the same age, be it Belgian, French, Welsh or American. Wouldn't you say?

[Bubbles]

Too right Mary, we all had that little 'extra' freedom, and I guess that's why we look back and think of the days as warm, golden, fun etc. Still, I remember snowy, freezing days where you'd take a tray of mum's (usually the best one and buckle it and get told off) and slide down the hills till our fingers froze, never mind that we had wooly gloves on, which were caked with dirty snow by then....

Other things I remember are........

Hopscotch, drawing on the road (being made to wash it off with scrubbing brush and Vim!!)....trading hopscotch stones for the 'slidiest' one....

Kiss chase around some old ruins of an ancient army 'lookout' post....running slowly to be caught by Martin Davies, my pash of youth!!! Wonder where he is now?

Putting olive oil on as suntan cream....and then someone said, add vinegar, gives a deeper tan....yeah right, ended up as walking salad dressings....lol....

Halloween night....going down the churchyard to the cemetery, hiding behind gravestones, jumping out at each other....using swedes as lanterns with candles inside.....

Rubbing candle grease all over the big slide in the playground, then polishing it, to make the slide madly slippery, then going down backwards, on your tum or two at a time....or sometimes four or five at a time.........that slide was high, we must have been nuts.....

Meeting boys outside the youth club......ahhh.......having crazes about one or the other..........then going off them in about a week and thinking 'Yuck!'.......

Daisy chains.........Foxgloves which looked like they talked if you squeezed them.........finding an old apple tree in the ground of our local 'haunted house'....(not really, just a very large house which was owned in the 18th century by the Iron and Coal Lords....)

Going down into the broken down cellar and finding mushrooms growing and an old ring........

Rissole and chips and dandelion and burdock pop at our local chip shop, sitting in the 'posh' tables and chairs section with the girls on a Friday night....spending our pocketmoney.....in Boots the Chemist on lipsticks....

British Bulldogs game with the boys who used to thump you deliberately just to prove they were best at it.......

Hiding in the rugby ground to see the players go in and out of the changing rooms......bit older then....

Friday night discos in the school...........Marc Bolan........Make up on blokes......stupid clothes..........

Writing KD loves MD on a tree with a sharp stone.....then worrying someone would find it and work it out and tell him....(I was only 11 or 12)

Watching Blue Peter or Magpie...............

Sausage, onion gravy and mashed potatoes for tea.........

Ah, stop me someone, 'I'm Going Back'........(Fab song by Dusty Springfield, by the way........great voice, sad lyrics.)

[Mary Hatch Bailey]

We used baby oil for suntanning, layed out on the blackest bit of pavement we could find, and also lined a copy of Frampton Comes Alive! with tin foil, held it on our knees, towards our faces for its extra reflective powers. Good God.

[Matney]

Just finishing laughing from Mqary's first reply! Great one!!

Grew up in the midwest of USA on a farm of crops (corn, soybeans, tobacco) and cattle, pigs, and horses. Dad farmed with his brother and Mom was the typical farmer's wife--raised chickens, huge meals, and never learned to drive !! I had 4 older brothers and a younger sister. Dogs, puppies, cats, kittens, baby chicks which the postman delivered, raccoons as pets, and piglets in boxes in the kitchen to keep warm were all common at our house.

After my Dad passed on, my brothers thought I should also be out on the tractor, but my uncle didn't think females belonged out the fields, we belonged in the kitchen!!

Grew up with visits from aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. Fond memories of huge dinners at the kitchen table or with family members at holidays. The closest town was 20 minutes away and we ususally only went twice a month, unless something broke down and needed to get parts for the farm machinery. Mom baked bread and we all took turns milking Bessy, until my brother who was the cow's favourite was killed in a car accident. Bessy took it hard just like the rest of us!

The school bus picked us up at the end of the long drive. Being picked up from school in the car was rare--twice I remember an aunt did to take us to see The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins!

Church on Sunday and home to the smell of roast...I miss the roasts!

I could go on, lots of happy memories of my childhood!!

[Mary Hatch Bailey]

Yes, mass every Sunday and Sunday dinner followed. Beef roasts, pork roasts. Heaven. Everything was closed because it was Sunday. No one shopped. We had baths and watched Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom and Disney.