Mother's Day - late as ever!!

Happy Mother's Day, to Mothers and Grandmothers everywhere!

I'm not sure how many other countries are celebrating Mother's Day today, but I love to share, so I'm extending it to all of you wherever you may be, because mine has been the best ever!  So far, anyway ;)

I've seen my eldest daughter, and spoken to my youngest who's away at uni.  I've seen my scrumptious grandson, and I've found some photographs I didn't even know I had.  Then, about half an hour ago I got the best present I could ever have wished for - and it came from the unlikeliest of sources!!

I've made a lot of friends over the last few months, particularly on Facebook where I've joined a vast array of groups and learned an incredible amount about all manner of belief systems. From Native Americans to Egyptians, from Nature to Astrology, and Hinuism to Judaism - and all sorts in between as well.  All of it has been approached with an open mind; some bits of info have been discarded, others explored in depth, more still have been stored away for future investigation.

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to one of my new friends, Cyprius Sky.  Her name stuck out to me originally because Cyprus is my favourite place in the world.  I've spent a lot of time there over the years and a big piece of my heart will reside there forever.  We'd made friends a couple of months ago but then hadn't communicated, but we commented on the same status and once I'd explained the connection I tagged her in one of my favourite photos of the Cypriot sky.  

I've only just noticed the purple/violet (Fairy Godmother?) in the front. I can't call it an orb, what would you call that?

In the conversation that ensued, something really beautiful happened... Please bear in mind that neither of us had spoken to the other up until this day...

This is interesting! I copied the wrong image URL, the photo above is the next one in the album.  The one I actually tagged Cyprius in was this one... Curiouser and curiouser!

Was this the Fairy Godmother's arrival??  This is the photo the conversation took place on

One of the projects I've been working on is writing this blog, but I've also started writing three books.  I've always been a bit "flighty" - as in, I start something but then get distracted.  I did read earlier this week that it can be a sign of genius, so it's not all bad!  

According to the original study (which can be found here):

Overall results suggest that leaky sensory gating may help people integrate ideas that are outside of focus of attention, leading to creativity in the real world.

Where was I? Haha!  I know really... so I've started writing three books, and everything I've been doing has been to try and make positive changes in the world.  To get people to at least think about meditation, about Ancient Knowledge, to open some minds to more available possibilities than they currently imagine, and to do it in an entertaining way.  This blog is perfect because I can get some ideas down in writing without the commitment of adding to the mix on a daily basis.  

One of my books has the following dedication:

For my beloved Grandad, who taught me so much about

life, love, humour, and the joy of giving <3

The idea for one of the main characters came directly from my Grandad who told me stories when I was little, so it was only right that he be credited before the story even started.  

The other book will take a lot longer to write... well actually, I thought it would take a lot longer to write, but now I've come up with a much quicker and more interesting way to do it, and it's all thanks to my wonderful Grandad and Cyprius Sky!

Earlier this evening, Cyprius posted a link to a meditation, with the following introduction:

I have decided to put up one Meditation a week. Some are guided, some are binarul beats( not for people with severe epilepsy) the guided meditation help ur visualisations, as well as distracting your mind so it is easier to clear it. Hope you enjoy, please comment your experiences with the family. Blessed be

Grounding Your Energy

This meditation took me on a wonderful journey without me going anywhere, and I'll be writing more very soon about why it's had such a huge impact on me.  I hope you'll learn as much from it as I did!!

Thank you Cyprius Sky - you're an amazing woman and an absolute inspiration!

Rochdale - Part four - Including the big bet!

Continued from Here

I've heard the moaning and complaining, and even joined in a couple of times when the Metrolink took SO long to be completed, along with all the disruption it caused to Drake Street and every other place along the route...  It's finished now though, and although it's really not that convenient for travelling to Manchester, it's great for reaching other places along the way, and when your mates live in Shaw then it's ideal for popping over to see them on a whim!

That's where I was when this bet was agreed.  So I'll get back to that forfeit now, when I told him that I plan to change the perceptions about Rochdale.  He doesn't believe I can bring it back from the depths to which it's reputation has plummeted, but I disagree.  However, I can't do it on my own.  I live in Castleton now, which was once one of the best nights out in the area.  My friends and I used to spend our evenings in the pubs here between Thursday and Sunday nights, so Friday and Monday mornings were always very much hung over affairs where we ate lots of chocolate and junk food (along with the obligatory crispy bacon butty from Sweaty Betty's and a combo meal from Andy's Pizza Place (jacket potato, coleslaw AND half a club sandwich!) and drank Jusoda and Buttercup Syrup (I have no idea...) but now there are 4 pubs left that I can think of.  FOUR!!  We used to have a full on pub crawl where we might actually have to crawl to the last pub, and now we could have a drink in every one within the space of an hour.  

This is not an improvement.  How are we supposed to behave like a community when we don't even see our neighbours?  Where are we supposed to socialise when there are only 4 available public houses?  I just looked up the population of Castleton, and whilst I fully appreciate that drinking isn't the only way to socialise, it's never going to happen if we have to fit almost 2,500 people in each of those four buildings!  

Sorry, I completely sidetracked myself there... Rochdale is the Birthplace of Co-Operation, so I'm relying on you now, fellow Pioneers.  Do you have some fond memories of Rochdale that you'd like to share?  Or old stories you've heard that are worth passing on?  Do you have some photos you can post to enhance the hard work Derek's already put in?

I have so many weird litte facts about Rochdale that I really could be here all day, but I have a headache now so I'm going to draw it to a close (Hah! I can hear your cheers from here!)

My friend has said that if I can change the perceptions of Rochdale, he'll come to our local ASDA, the one on the old cricket ground, and he'll do his full weekly shop - whilst nakie!  Now, this was supposed to be just a bet between two mates, but I'm never really one to do things quietly, so I'm upping the stakes and therefore changing the rules a little bit.

I'd love for this to have more than one good outcome, so I suggest we make it a charity event and he can choose 2 charities to gain from his bravery (or rather, his misguided bravado, since neither of us had any clue then that it would grow into this!)  He also mentioned that his Aunty (or another relation, I'm not sure) appeared in one of the ASDA Price ads and patted her back pocket - I love the connection in that as well, so I'm going to ask a friend of mine to film him as though it's a new ASDA advert...  

As it's now being filmed and is for charity, and so many people are saying "it'll never be allowed", maybe we'll have to allow him some boxer shorts... Or am I being too soft on him??

However, if I fail, and Rochdale continues to be seen as "just a town full of paedos" then I'll have to come up with a forfeit.  The best I've come up with so far is for me to do the shopping in a swimming costume (there's no way I'm doing it nakie, not even the remotest chance!) or to whizz down a zip line as per my Note to Self earlier.  I'll consider either of those, but let's try and get the new advert instead please!

I love my home town, and I hate the thought that all of its dirty little secrets are now seen as our definition.  There are many more towns with similar secrets, but I don't live there so Rochdale is my priority.  I'd love to see other towns take this challenge on though, so please do let me know if you decide to do it in your area.  

I think it's time for a change in thinking.  People make mistakes.  People sometimes do really horrific things to other living beings, whether that means other people, animals or the planet itself - but generally, I believe that those same people also do many really good things.  Everyone has good and bad in them, and every place has good and bad stories that accompany them.  We're the ones who get to decide which stories we tell, and we also have the power to replace a negative story with a positive one.

Can we try and remember where we're from, who we're descended from, focus on the positive stuff for once, and make those people proud?  I'd really like to give it a go, and I know I'm not the only person who loves this town - we could even raise a lot of money for good causes if we're really clever about it ;O)

I googled "home of co-operation" in an attempt to find this image, and ended up with a load of photos from Cyprus - anyone who knows me and my obsession about everything being connected will know why that made me smile!! <3  I guess home really is where the heart is!!

At the beginning I asked whether you felt that Rochdale is beyond redemption. Now I'm asking whether you still feel the same now as you did then.  Times have changed a lot since my arrival in 1970.  Mums don't really make clothes for their kids any more, haircuts are usually from a professional hairdresser, little kids don't get to walk to school and go on stealing sprees at the age of 6, and we no longer have Maypoles or Morris Dancers to look forward to at school fairs.  I'm not convinced that we're progressing anymore, hence my rewind.  

Here are a few quick snippets about Rochdale that I may expand on at a later date:

• The River Roch wasn't always covered over by a road.  
• There used to be two bridges between the banks at the bottom of Yorkshire Street and the buildings that back on to Packer Street and one of them was known as The Kissing Bridge because it was so narrow that people were close enough to kiss as they passed each other.
• There used to be wooden cobbled roads before the stone cobbles were introduced, and you can still see these behind the fancy dancy public toilet that's been installed near Mango's.
• The market in Rochdale used to be the best around, and was one of the first in Lancashire to receive a Market Charter.
• The cobbled tunnel leading down from Baillie Street to The Butts is called Bull Brow, and until recently I thought it was for a cattle market, but apparently there were bull baiting displays there!
• The Royds Family built a beautiful church near Spotland called St Edmunds. Its a fantastic building, but closed down years ago due to lack of parishioners.  I found some info on it a couple of years ago that made me want to see inside, but I don't think it's possible.  Can we change that please?  A small donation on the door should help towards the cost of upkeep and bring more visitors to Rochdale - what else could they go to see while they're here?
• The Central Library and Childrens Library next door were also great places to explore as a child.  I loved that smell of old books, but now I have to go much further afield to get that kind of experience.  Yes, we have a new one in the Wheatsheaf Centre, but it's not exactly an inspiring place from what I remember.  The building that now houses Touchstones was (and still is; one of my kids once admitted that they used to think that was were the Princess of Rochdale live! Cute!)
• The Royds family were actually from Yorkshire, but they brought a lot of wealth into Rochdale.  They had family pride as well; many of the streets around St Edmund's church are named after their family members.  Yes, that does include Emma Street.  Our disgraced ex Councillor used to live on a street named after Hemorrhoids - isn't that a nicer story than the ones we've had to read just recently? ;O)

One of the things I've always loved about Rochdale and its inhabitants is our ability to laugh at ourselves.  That hasn't always been easy just recently, but I really think we can get back to that.  I genuinely believe we can have a town to be proud of again too, but one person can't make this happen alone...

I've just realised I only used one song in this blog!  Totally slacking, so you get to share the song that was playing on my magical mystery shuffle as I finished. It's fairly magical... The lyrics really couldn't be more perfect as it appears I've just nominated myself as one of The Voices of Rochdale.  Are you really going to make me sing a solo now I'm here? 

This is my plan.  

It's so cunning, I stuck a tail on it, and now it's a Fox ;)

Thank you Rowan Atkinson! <3

Rochdale - Beyond Redemption? Part 3

Continued from here

From Louise Gardens we moved to Shelfield Lane in Norden, where we got to explore even more!  This was in the days when the land at the side of Whittaker Moss School was full of Pussy Willow trees and we'd pick the buds and take them home (I'm really not sure why I did that, because I never planted them or anything as I recall!)  We had strict instructions not to play near the reservoir, but obviously we did know how to climb over the wall so we did - but every time without fail, that inspired a need to run straight home because the sound of the water rushing into the rez (short for reservoir, keep up! lol) always made me desperate for the loo!  

We'd go blackberry picking and come home with nothing to show for it except purple fingers and tongues (although my sister always managed to smear the purple all around her face as well, mucky kid! Hah!) I remember getting stuck in a tree too.  My friends had somehow managed to convince me to climb it, despite my fears and pleas to the contrary!  It had a long wide branch that my friends stood on to swing off, and I'd seen them do this loads of times every day for weeks - but I just couldn't shake that fear I'd learnt by the stream at Smallbridge, and no matter how hard I tried, I just could not jump off that branch!  In the end, one of my friends had to run back to my house and ask my dad to drive down to rescue me.  I was again mortified, because I felt as though I was letting my dad down by not being a big enough, brave enough girl to just swing on the rope, but now I can see that it was because my previous experience had frightened me.  Adult eyes... they really do see the things that children can't comprehend!  Dad saved me that day by parking his car under the branch and eventually coaxing me to climb on to the roof and sliding down the windscreen... One day I will get over that fear and whizz down a zip line!! (Aha! Note to self for later!)

While we lived in Norden, I went to St Vincent's and learnt all about how we shouldn't talk to "the proddy dogs next door"... I refer you to my earlier "Wait... what?" gif!  Religious intolerance goes back a long time, but teaching it to little kids?  I have no idea who ever told me that the kids at Caldershaw were "Proddy Dogs", but I do remember not understanding why we weren't supposed to speak to them - especially because my cousins didn't go to Catholic school and they weren't that bad! Lol.  I tended to ignore that bit of advice, and although I didn't talk to any of the Caldershaw kids on the way into school, we all played very nicely together on the streets and fields near our homes.  

I did make some good friends at that time though, and although things weren't perfect (yes I am aware, and I'm lucky enough not to have been a victim of that injustice either - we don't need to bring it up, I'm trying to increase the positive now) my friends and I were all pretty much happy children from what I remember.

I got to know all the little back streets and short cuts, found out where the best blackberry bushes were, cut my knees from falling off my adjustable metal roller skates, ate home made fudge from Mrs Jenkins across the road, clambered about in the building sites when new houses started to spring up - I can still remember the smell of concrete drying - went sledging down the hill in front of St Vincent's (and got in trouble from Dad for laughing so much when my little sister failed to stop and crashed into Mrs O'Hara's classroom wall! Sorry sis!) and made loads of new friends both in and out of school, some of whom I'm still in touch with today, thanks solely to Facebook!

We went for walks in Ashworth Valley (Ashfield Valley was a big shock to the system when I discovered that a few years later!) 

Climbed to the top of Knowl Hill, 

Got confused between 10CC and ELO when I discovered that one of them had a house on Norford Way (it was 10CC, but I still have to check every time I hear one of those bands even today!)

I spent a lot of time at Grandma and Grandad's on Elmsfield Avenue, trying to find out what goodies they had in the bottom drawer of the dresser where the treats were kept.  I became known (to Grandad at least!) as The Phantom Jaffa Cake Eater, even though Brandy Snaps were my favourites.

I climbed over fences, camped in the back garden, knew the neighbours, always had somewhere to go if I needed help, and knew to set off home when the streetlights came on and actually in the house by the time they'd turned yellow! (Only at certain times of the year though, I still had to be in bed well before the street lights in the Summer!)

We moved abroad for a few years in 1980, but I moved to Bamford for a few months in 1982 and went to St Wilfrid's School. We have a Facebook group for ex pupils, and last year a reunion was organised.  When you think how many children must have attended over the years, there was only a tiny fraction of us at the party, but it was brilliant to catch up with a lot of people I've neither seen nor thought of for a long time.  I'll try to keep it brief about this school, but most of us really have very fond memories of our time there.  Mine wasn't a brilliant experience because my accent had changed in those 2 years and now some of the kids I went to primary school were calling me names for being posh or a snob, so I ended up going to boarding school instead.  (Yeah good idea Sarah, that'll show them for calling you a posh snob! Haha!)  Mr O'Laughlin was either a fantastic headmaster or a complete tyrant depending on who's story you listen to, so I'll just go with my own impression of a very nice, but sometimes shouty man who ran our school and who I tried to avoid at all costs, because being called (or sent) to the headmaster's office was a very bad thing.  

I only had one bad experience with a teacher there, and that was a History teacher who took exception to me for no apparent reason.  I was a good girl and a bright student, so having an angry red faced man bellow at me to "Go and stand outside the class young lady!" was really scary!  I don't think I even knew what I'd done wrong, but I seem to think I had to stand outside his class every time after that.  The only purpose that served was to put me off History for the rest of my education.

In 1984 we moved back to the UK and into Whitegate in Dearnley and made a whole load of new friends. We played on the street, on the lodge behind our house, down the road towards Lightburn we'd play Hide and Seek, sometimes we'd feed the horses in the imaginatively named "Horse's Field", and generally muck about being kids and trying not to blind each other with our pretend light sabres... 

We got into trouble from "Handlebars", the local Bobby, for sitting on the steps outside Dearnley Methodist Church, "It's freezing out here here, haven't you got homes to go to?" to which we'd usually reply that we weren't doing any harm sitting there counting cars, and home was boring lol.  He was always friendly enough, we just didn't take him seriously when he tried telling us we'd get piles from sitting on the cold wall - why do adults say such ridiculous things sometimes?

We explored all over the place in Littleborough.  Most of my friends had lived there for their whole lives (and many still do live within striking distance of our old stomping grounds) and we played cricket up on "The Wreck".  That name always confused me because there was no ship wreck in sight, just a big empty patch of grass, a couple of goats and a Jehovah's Witness Church.  It was only later I found out it was actually "The Rec" and the rest of "Rec" was "reation" - and now here we are in my attempted Re-Creation of the views of Rochdale 

This is my "Smug" smiley, because I do keep telling people that everything's connected! 

We had some great times during those years, and then a couple of years later we discovered that we could pop into Alec's shop and occasionally get away with buying Clan Dew (Clan Ewww more like! The lengths teenagers will go to attempt drunkenness is really quite sad haha!) We started to go further afield, like up to Hollingworth Lake when there was a fair on, or up to the "bottomless pit" on Blackstone Edge to swim in the summer (another thing we probably weren't allowed to do!) then when it got dark or rainy some of us would pop round to one particular house where we could smoke and play cards without any parents getting in the way of our fun.  I did hear a couple of rumours about inappropriate behaviour by the owner of that house, but I spent a lot of time there, both with other kids and alone with the man in question and I never once saw or experienced anything untoward.

I think this is a big part of my point to be honest.  Sometimes judgements are made based on one person's experience.  Now I'm not saying that anyone was lying, nor that one person's experience should just be dismissed - of course it should be properly looked into!  Wrongdoing and illegality should be tackled head on, and appropriate actions should be taken - but I prefer to look at the bigger picture.  There must have been about 20 of us who spent time there, and to my knowledge, only one or 2 people ever expressed any discomfort about being there - yet they still came back.  I can only judge people based on my own experience of them, and since I never experienced anything other than good there, I have fond memories of being there.

Somewhere along the way, we've all forgotten the town we grew up in.  We've managed to forget that the reason we have so many beautiful buildings is because Hitler made it a "no fly zone" during WWII because he wanted our Town Hall - Hitler did some really REALLY terrible things, but I will always thank him for preserving that beauty for us.

http://i1.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/incoming/article1234312.ece/alternates/s615/rochdale-town-hall-nightJPG.jpg

I remember being outside there one day in the 70s and seeing a big black car pull up.  I remember how excited I was that it contained a local celebrity!!  I was pretty awestruck that there was a famous person right in front of me, and I also remember giggling to myself when I noticed he was wearing his red tartan slippers.  I watched him waddle into the beautiful Post Office building, and felt important because I'd just seen him with my very own eyes and not just by looking at a photo in the paper or watching a link on a TV programme.

I had no idea of the terrible things that man was doing behind closed doors, and in all honesty, I wish I still didn't know about them.  I didn't imagine anything other than lovely things when I was laid on the floor with my chin propped up on my hands watching Top of the Pops either.  

For some reason, I was something close to embarrassed when Lisa Stansfield appeared on one of the Saturday morning TV programmes and her Rochdale accent filled the airwaves.  I really disliked being compared to her because of that accent... Seems I was a posh snob after all!  (Sorry Lisa!  I'm over it now though, and I love your music and that you still have your accent!) Gracie Fields was too old to be cool, and Mike Harding was just a bloke who'd made everyone think it was hilarious to call me a cowboy... How moody was I?!

The thing is, I wasn't alone.  I think I caught that attitude from other people around me.  I've discovered that Attitudes are like viruses.  If you spend a lot of time listening to bad ones, you end up adopting them as your own, and when a lot of friends are leaving the town they grew up in and telling you it's because "it's gone to the dogs" then you start believing it.  When you hear Rochdalians referring to their own home town as "Dogdale", and see all the pubs and clubs closing down because of violence and trouble, you start to wonder whether you should maybe leave as well...

That's what happened to me anyway.  But the thing is, I remember all of these great things (and many more!) about this town. Now I can call on the help of Derek Parsons, who's name seems familiar but I don't (to my knowledge) actually know him.  However, I'd like to thank him for the work he's already put into this project and the photos and information he has on his page.

This photo for instance.  I've now discovered that it was due to be demolished in January so it's probably gone now, but I remember my childhood confusion as to why they kept pulling that big building down and then rebuilding it before we drove past again...  That childhood innocence is lost forever when you start learning the truth about things, but it was a source of great wonder to me for YEARS before I discovered it grew and shrank depending how much gas was inside it!  This is the point I'm trying to make about the way things are looked at now.

Our innocence has been stolen.  Our pride has gone with it.  Everyone knows that terrible things have happened here, and we just hang our heads in collective shame and apologise on behalf of the bad guys.  

Well I'm not apologising any longer for the mistakes of people I've never even spoken to.  I didn't do those things, I didn't hurt those people, I didn't ruin those lives.  My heart breaks for the lives that were ruined, and I hope with all of my heart that they manage to find some peace, but I cannot - and will not - live my life in penance for someone else's mistakes.

I love this town.  I love that I can see signs of it coming back to life.  There are new market stalls next to the new Metrolink and Bus Stations, and the traders there have a petition going to get it covered over and made a permanent fixture.  I've signed the petition, because I can see how the new position could be really good for our town and all the business who still have their homes here.

Continue here for part four and the bet! 

Rochdale - Beyond redemption? Part two

Continued from here

Funny how life comes along and knocks the wind out of your sails as well...  Another TV show took that little story away from me when Bill Oddie was asked "Who Do You Think You Are" and he talked about moving from Rochdale to Birmingham in the 60s and his mum being in an asylum for most of his childhood... So who was the mystery woman who looked after Baby Sarah??!

After the Town Flats, we moved to Smallbridge and I became a Big Sister.  That's a really important role, and I was given extra responsibilities as I got older.  Like going to the shop for my dad.  I can't have been more than 5 or 6 but I remember being allowed to walk from Louise Gardens up to Low Hill, buying the paper, being told I couldn't spend any of the change, buying a ha'penny icepop and then realising outside our house that dad would know when he counted the change that I'd gone completely against his instructions.... Oh No!!  Now I was going to be in trouble... So I knelt on the footpath and tore out the tiny bit of newspaper that bore the price of the paper (right outside our kitchen window, maybe not quite so clever after all!) 

I don't remember getting into trouble that day, so either Dad didn't notice the hole in his paper, or he laughed to himself at the lengths his little girl had gone to, to try and cover her tracks for spending a whole half of a penny!!  I wasn't always quite so smart though, and I remember getting a few more spankings thanks to my sticky fingers over the years - never much money, and I've no idea now why I did it, but I did grow out of it and I promise your pennies are more than safe while Adult Sarah is around - although I may well be guilty of encouraging people to part with their money in the quest for some fun in their lives and I'll never apologise for that.  Everyone should spend a bit of money on themselves now and again - we deserve to be treated occasionally, and if we won't do it for ourselves, who will?

Living in Smallbridge was brilliant!  There were children on my street and around the corner who I could play with (although I did have many a nightmare about getting lost on that estate, because all the houses look the same and most of the streets have exactly the same layout - at least to 4-7 year old eyes!), parks where we could play on the swings, ponds where we could find frogspawn to bring home to a bucket in the back garden (and then freak out, scream and run away when they grew up to be frogs!), the Round Library that had tiny little chairs for tiny little kids to sit and look at the kids' books while Mum was choosing her latest reads in the boring grown up section, and story time with the Librarian during the holidays.  She was nearly as good at reading stories as Mum and Dad were, and there were other children just as enthralled as I.  That shared experience is important I think - a good story is a good story, but when you can share it with other people who experienced it, it immediately gains the potential to become a great story!

Living Next Door to Alice by Smokie has just come on, so here's the first diversion... It's only a little one though, I promise!  Our next door neighbour then was called April, not Alice, although  I do think the lady in the bungalow opposite might have been called Alice...  I remember that Mum used to go and check on her occasionally and make sure she was ok, and whenever I've heard reports about old people being mugged in their own homes it's still to this day Alice's bungalow that I imagine... 

But we did have a beautiful grey cat called Smokey!  I loved her, and when she was pregnant she pulled up the carpet in the corner of my bedroom to give birth to her kittens <3  She left home not long after that to live with a couple near the shop on Low Hill, but we kept a black kitten who later became known as Gnasher because she used to chase and then bite Mum and Dad's toes through the blankets when we were all relaxing in their bed on a Sunday morning listening to music while Dad read the papers (twinge of old guilt again about that ice pop!) 

I do also remember coming back from the shop with my dad though; he didn't always send me by myself!  I can clearly remember how pretty Smallbridge was in those days, and I had a great view from my seat on Dad's shoulders as he bounced me up and down whilst whistling the theme tune from Laurel and Hardy!  That tune always takes me to the sloping path between the trees, with a view of the flats to my left, our house on the other side of the bushes and down at the bottom of the path.  The garages at the side of our house and the old factory at the back of the houses at the bottom of the steps - we weren't allowed to play near the factory, but that didn't always stop us!

I remember the excitement of the Fire Brigade turning up outside the library one day.  Somehow, a Reliant Robin had lost control and crashed into the stone embankment next to the subway.  I never did get my young mind wrapped around how exactly a 3 wheeled car had managed to crash and burst into flames - surely it had contained a little old man in glasses the thickness of Jam Jar Bottoms and he should only have been driving at about 15 miles per hour?? I seem to remember my dad telling me the man had escaped the inferno, was fine and only the car had been damaged, but I have no idea whether that was the truth, or sanitised for my own protection - either way, I liked the story, and even 10 or more years later I could still make out the scorch marks on the stones there!

I went to Alice Ingham Primary School (oh, here's Alice again!) and was able to walk to school with two boys from my class.  I was always a really good little girl, but they showed me how to be a bit of a naughty girl... I knew I wasn't allowed near the stream on the other side of Wardle Road, but I still went there with them, and almost scared myself to death when I fell off the rope swing and tumbled into the water - not particularly because I was hurt, but because I was wet so my Mum would immediately know I'd disobeyed her... No!!!  I didn't want to disappoint Mum, and it was all my friends' fault, not mine!  Hmmm... funny how young minds work eh?  Anyway, on one of our independent walks to school, the boys had picked up a HUGE padlock from a little workshop that used to be behind the big house opposite the library.  I remember the house being built, and then it being turned into a nursing home of some sort, but I can't remember the name of it... Anyway, that padlock ended up in my school bag.  I hadn't had anything to do with the actual theft of it, but I was harbouring stolen goods...

Everything was going really well in my little life of crime (I was probably about 6 at this point!) until I put my bag down on the kitchen floor while Mum was making my butties, and she heard the clang.  CLANG!!! Indeed!  I had to tell her the whole story, and she marched me down to the workshop to hand the stolen property back, and I had to apologise to the owner.  I was mortified.  Horrified. Humiliated.  And I never intentionally stole anything from any shops again, workshops or otherwise (those tights in 1985 accidentally walked out of Top Shop with me, I totally forgot I'd picked them up and only noticed I was still clutching them between my other shopping bags when I got to the Sheep at the entrance of the shopping centre! Sorry Top Shop!!)  

Mums can be very clever creatures you know.  Mine taught me at an early age that actions have consequences, and facing them is part of acting in the first place.  I may not have fully understood that lesson at the time, and it may well have hurt me, but it was well worth learning and I'm glad it happened when I was 6.  The outcome could have been very different if the lesson had been left until later in life!

My Mum was very clever indeed.  She taught me how to read, the value of escaping into stories, and how my imagination was my greatest gift - she made clothes for us, cut our hair, cooked our tea, baked cakes (and once she even baked a plastic pan from my toy kitchen set that I'd put in the real oven and forgotten about - oops!) and made sure that we knew how to behave in public.  She taught me that some words aren't for children to use - a good example of this was the day we sat down to tea and I tried to show off my new language skills - I was always really proud when I learnt a new word or technical term and wanted to show it off at the earliest opportunity so that I could receive a bit of the praise I always craved for being such a clever girl...  Just as Mum and Dad were tucking into their roast dinner, their darling little 5 year old piping up with "Ooh! Look at that bird shit on the window!" was enough to cause a bit of choking and spluttering, followed by an explanation as to why little girls should call it "bird poo" and not use that S word!  I wish I could rewind to that moment now and see their real reaction!  

I explored Smallbridge a lot, had a big fear of getting lost in those streets and squares that all looked the same, learned my fear of rope swings, got annoyed with the boy down the road for being so obvious about letting a goal in when he'd finally agreed to letting a girl play (thanks for talking him into letting me play in the first place Dad!)  I spent a lot of time sat on my bedroom windowsill in the summer holidays being angry that all my little friends were still playing out but I'd been sent to bed like some kind of baby, and really hated my parents' reply of "because what I say goes" or "Because they're not my children" when I tried to question their decision.  And yes, I have used those exact same phrases when my children have bemoaned the rules they've had to live by ;) 

Frustrating times, but mostly a LOT of fun!  We played out a lot, and even in my dreams we all played together in the square outside our house because I'd dream that a gigantic dog came to play with us.  In my previous blog about Dreams I thought he was an Old English Sheepdog, but now I seem to think he might have actually been a Saint Bernard, because I think he had an actual beer barrel on his collar (as opposed to a miniature barrel of brandy) which makes the scale of him much easier to imagine... We had a lot of imaginary fun riding around the square on our local pet dog! 

Continue to part three