0 to 34

I remember how I hated being left alone, and cried and cried and cried.

I remember watching The Muppet Show.

 

I remember reading the 1972 Beano annual.

 

I remember having a toy box.

 

I remember my grandad’s shed at the bottom of the garden.

 

I remember being scared of the dark.

 

I remember discovering how awful toothache was.

 

I remember the dentist that I didn’t like.

 

I remember the interesting toys available at that place called ‘school’.

 

I remember the thrill when our class swapped our Mr Men books with the next class.

 

I remember making things with glue and tinsel and shiny coloured paper.

 

I remember Lenny the Lion.

 

I remember little bottles of warm milk that we had to drink before morning break.

 

I remember being the tallest person in my class.

 

I remember trying to pass off my teddy as a brother.

 

I remember assembly.

 

I remember when I moved house, and left my friends behind.

 

I remember how long it took to make new ones again.

 

I remember how soon I forgot the old ones.

 

I remember when hometime meant work was over until the next day.

 

I remember deciding that someone was my girlfriend, and giving her a bag of sherbet lemons because she liked them.

 

I remember her liking me less.

 

I remember when they didn’t have breakfast television.

I remember the sweet shops I walked past every morning.

 

I remember what those other kids used to call me.

 

I remember when Wham! were quite new.

 

I remember when I didn’t really know how good Culture Club were.

 

I remember T-shirts about what ‘Frankie Says…’

 

I remember what it was like to want my own computer.

 

I remember how getting one took almost everything else from my life.

 

I remember typing with two fingers, and I was still faster than anyone else.

 

I remember six weeks holiday in the middle of the year.

 

I remember all that time I spent in hospital.

 

I remember that day I finally left school.

 

I remember having money of my own, and how it made me happy.

 

I remember how unhappy my first job made me.

 

I remember the single day I spent trying to sell newspapers.

 

I remember all that weight I lost, that one time.

 

I remember bacon sandwiches in the office, and when people seemed to appreciate me.

 

I remember being able to type with both hands.

 

I remember when I was young enough not to forget anything.