Day 13: The story of your life in 250 words. Exactly.

The story of my life in 250 words precisely... can be read here.

But whilst I have your attention, and I have 250 entirely fresh words to kill, I thought I might go into a little more detail about some of the early days...

I liked school. I went to Leverton Junior, a fairly crappy primary school in Essex. It was quite rough in many ways; low-aspiration, low-income, low-expectation - but I did fine. My family were always a bit out of place there. In Waltham Abbey, and within school... We always did homework, attended parents’ evenings, read at home and didn’t have a satellite dish. No wonder we were outcasts; I didn’t think about it ‘til now but mummy always said she felt we didn’t fit in, and it’s only now I realise why.

But it was fine. I liked being the clever one. 

Then I went to Roding Valley, a large Essex comprehensive. Not a good school according to league tables, but I loved it. I finally found people who were a bit like me, who I could relate to, and who are still my closest friends, 22 years later. Actually, we all ended up in Brighton together. Roding was great – a real mixture of people, and some proper Essex characters.  Half of my form were pregnant by the time we did GCSEs.

The female half, presumably.

But I thrived. Academically, yes -  but more importantly I became confident and sociable; I wasn’t at primary school, though hadn’t realised at the time. Having a real group of friends made a massive difference, and despite the league tables – if you worked hard you were totally able to achieve there. 

Not many people I know remember it with any fondness, but I loved it.

There you go, 250 words precisely.

To be fair, would you socialise with this?

Day 12: What do you miss?

I miss sunny summer days growing up.

I’m not trying to be twee. But there was this certain feeling I can recall only fleetingly – a distant taste of a memory – of walking home from junior school in blazing sunshine; the smell of cut grass and knowing that you could go and play outside or sit in the garden or have ice in your drink. Probably on the last day of the Summer term, I expect.

I can’t even remember it really. Not entirely. Only the feeling I got.

Being carefree and feeling liberated and having no demands on your time.

And I miss it...

And it evolved as I got older.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

Fast forward six years, to the end of secondary school. I no longer participate in PE lessons, due to *ahem* ...medical reasons. Instead, I spend those sunny, summer afternoons lying on the grass at the edge of the school field with all the girls who are inexplicably on their period again, watching the boys play cricket with their tops off, wearing just trainers and tiny white shorts.

We sit and ogle, though I am discreet, and flick through Sugar magazine and talk about pop music.

Great days, and a feeling of excitement, acceptance and the complete absence of worries.

What do I miss?

Carefree , sunny, summer days. And whilst my carefree, sunny summer holidays have not changed much as an adult, and I am still pretty much untroubled by life, the feeling itself- that taste of a memory of a feeling.... 

I’m unable to recapture it as it was.