…I remember when we lived in Salisbury, Wiltshire (gorgeous city in those days) and had a victorian terraced town house, since demolished and replaced by a multi-storey car park, but hey…Anyhow, there was a local floozy, nice girl in my reckoning, but I was young, straight and impressionable and she was pretty with large breasts, so there you go. OK, back to the story. She would knock on our door about twice a week, asking us if we'd like to buy what she was offering that particular day: a string of plastic pearls, a briefcase, whatever. Goodness only knows where she got this stuff, but what the hell. Anyway, one day, she pitches up with a wooden sledge with yellow plastic runners. Would we like to buy this for two pounds (£2) sterling? OK, she didn't say 'sterling', but you get my drift; I'm just trying to be very inclusive with all my vistitors from Poznan and the like. Cue my brother and I putting enormous pressure on my mother and ending up, two minutes later, with a proper wooden sledge in our possession. Bear in mind you could have fed a family of four for a week on two quid (pounds sterling, OK?) in those days. Seeing as my mother was a student at that time it was quite a sum. Since that day, I've never been able to take any sledge seriously that wasn't 100% wood. What's more, the one we got in Germany had METAL runners, not even plastic, however trendy that might have appeared in 1967 in Wiltshire.
Did I really write '1967'?
This, gentle reader, is the sad truth of our lives. We recount, we discourse, we pontificate, we drink, we smoke (well, we used to), we fornicate (Yay!) and the rest, but, in the end, we just get older. Those of us born in 1962 don't feel old, but for those new voters born in 1994, we are positively prehistoric. I fancied this door-knocking girl, and I was five. There's no age limit in either direction, if you ask me.
The point of this post being: I'm just contributing to my online diary. Look away if you wish, I don't give one, OK.
That's our sledge, and as far as I can remember, this was the girl who came a-knocking…
I may be wrong, though. After all, I was only five…
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