I remember VE Day after the war, or rather I remember the celebrations. I remember the chapel minister telling me it was not my sixth birthday but the 'celebration' of my birthday. Aren't adults pompous when they want to be! Falling off a three wheeled bicycle and breaking my arm; falling off the cricket pitch roller and breaking my arm; falling off a two wheeled bike and breaking my arm! Teacher Mr Jones shouting at me in lessons. and the teacher, was it Mr Jones coming into lessons and announcing Mr Ghandi had been killed.
School trips to Eyam and Hansel and Gretel. In later years camping at Mundesley, a trip for 'the poor boys', courtesy of some charity or other. Playing in the river and canal; in the farmyards and on the railway line. Coming home from school and being told my mother had died; then I went out and did my paper round; no wonder I'm a bit of a fruit and nut' case!
In the big wild world of work I remember frenetic days at F W Woolworth's and those lovely young Saturday girls. And less than frenetic days at British Celanese, stuck behind a desk adding up lists of Dicel and Tricel, as if I cared! Wet, windy duties on the yard as a teacher, also frenetic and frenetic too the years spent 'youth- leading'. Why did I so often choose jobs offering a less than peaceful existence! All in all years and years gone in a flash. Seldom regretted, not even the morning spent as a Betterware salesman on the outskirts of Ilkeston. (A morning was ample!)
Marriage, one, children, two. Ups and downs, but far more ups than downs. Excruciating happiness and much love, more than one man deserves. And life goes on; the eyes dim and sometimes the memories fade. Many, many memories. (I honestly believe EVERYTHING we have experienced, however trite is stored in the brain until death. Otherwise how do we recall memories that we have NOT thought about for so long, triggered and recalled in an instant.)
So what's significant about day number 27069, anybody hazard a guess. No, well it's my number of days on this earth. Of no significance to anyone except me, but its set me thinking. Mainly because of the days I can't rather than can remember.Very, very few 'diarists', not surprisingly, record EVERY day of their lives. Certainly not at my level. If I can recall hundreds, maybe thousands of the days of my life, that leaves many, many more days that were so mundane as to have vanished 'into the ether' so to speak. They are not necessarily wasted, it is just that we 'live' so to speak on special days. The majority of our time we 'exist', not necessarily in a bad way. My friends, I would like, with your help to conduct an experiment. Anyone why reads my blog is welcome to take part!
On a given day, in the near future I would like people who choose to do so to tell me, in some detail, what you did, morning 'till night on the chosen day. I too of course will do likewise. Remember, this is NOT a special day. From what you ate to what you did. I know its nosey, but 'never mind eh!' I have readers from all over the world from all walks of life. I will print every reply as a blog a week or two after the invitation. I have readers from all walks of life, all ages, all parts of the world. ( A short profile will be needed.) More details , e.g. length to follow.) The only common denominator, being readers of Grumpy's Blog! Probably a mad thing to do, I've no idea who, if anyone will respond; it could be interesting!