I was three years old and I was in a hospital. This is the earliest memory that I can be sure of that it’s real, and not something I’ve been told. It was a children’s ward and I was shy. The older girls seemed intimidating to me. I even remember the name of a radio programme they were looking forward to in the evenings. This was some time 1958. At some point, I fell on the floor, and the nurse put a cold spatula or some such on my forehead. My Mum was dressed in black when she came to pick me up. Back then, widows wore black for a whole year. The veil was thrown back after the funeral, that was the custom then.
This is the earliest, clear memory. I have others too, but there I can’t be sure — I think I can remember sitting on my father’s lap … it’s like I remember where certain pieces of furniture were placed in the room, but again … it seems unlikely and is probably just some kind of wishful thinking.
This short post was triggered by the WP Daily Post.