The Writers' Circle

Sunday morning, day of rest, 
Looking out into the garden the flowers and the bushes freshen as they soak up the cool rain. 
Relax, lie back, and listen to a CD. Soak up the music. The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, playing
Memories are made of this.
 
The first tune (Were Do I Begin), my mind wanders back. Born in 1941 a war baby, can we really go back to our birth? It's a sort of fuzzy picture. I am looking across the big black twin pram at my twin sister, the hoods are up as the rain pounding on them, my sister is crying! The noise is loud and frightening her, mums voice says "don't worry we will soon be home", tries to comfort her. 
Arriving home the rains stopped and the hoods are down I can see out of the pram again Judith has fallen asleep. Mum just pulls me out and into the front room, Mavis is sat reading a book in front of the coal fire that is flickering. Mum shouts take John and change his nappy will you Mavis. 

(As Time goes by,) starts to play. My mind wanders on I'm in school and the teacher Mr. Turner was tall with wavy hair, asking if any of us boys wanted to play football for the school team. Dad had been a professional footballer, so it was already in my blood. Rushing home to tell Dad I was in the school team. I had no football boots; we couldn't afford to buy any. Dad compromised putting some bars across the bottom of a pair of Judith's fur lined boots. Making the team was my dream, following dads footsteps as an inside forward. Our first match was against the school up the road.
Disaster struck our goalkeeper Harry Shipman, had broken his arm. "Who will go in goals" Mr. Turner asked. No substitutes in those days. Up shot my hand, so in goal I went. As the game progressed the opposition had two penalties, saving both Mr. Turner showered praise of my feat saving the penalties? I remember the feeling of euphoria at his comments and never forgot that praise to this day. 

(My Girl) starts to play. It was the youth club when I met the girl of my dreams. I remember vividly, as she danced with her mate. She had the most beautiful legs. I was known for being a bit of a lad, she was a very quite girl and didn't seem to be interested in boys, and certainly not interested in the likes of me. 
We would all go down to a drink shop called Bethels. One Sunday after several attempts to persuade her out for a date she agreed to go out with me. 

(When I Fall In Love) starts to play. It was love at first sight, Marjorie was different to the other girls I had been with, not that I had been with lots. Her Dad was quite strict and would insist on her being home for 10 pm, parents in those days had full control you didn't question their decisions.

Memories are made of this starts to play.  
Getting married when Marjorie was just nineteen, we both worked. Marjorie in a chemist and I was in engineering, life was full of opportunities and we took them along with starting a family. Two boys Philip and Simon. Marjorie moved onto school meals gaining her City Guilds in cooking becoming a supervisor and later a works kitchen manageress, and myself, I opened a sports centre in a closed down mill. The very first to convert the old cotton mill into a multi-sports centre. Football coaching for 8 to14year olds, weight training, ladies keep fit, karate club, gymnastics for kid's memories came flooding back.
We have been involved with people for the last 35years. Our first venture together was a Newsagent's, thoughts of our first day bring a smile to my face, sorting out all those papers and serving at the same time, it was so hectic. I remember as soon as dinnertime came we would rush into the living quarters for a twenty-minute snooze; well we had been up since five am.

The tune (Against All Odds) starts to play   Memories jumps to our dream to own a free house country pub. 
The Raddle was such a picturesque pub and the scenery was divine looking onto Croxen Abbey remains it was in Staffordshire in a tiny village called Hollington, with one major problem a sad lack of customers, the bank managers words still echo in my ears. "You must be mad," he said as we asked for a loan, "the pubs not doing enough to pay the mortgage you need to get takings up immediately". We convinced him we could, it was against all odds, but we did it, the Raddle became the place to be. Restarting the village fair brought the village together. So many memories of our time at the Raddle we will forever cherish.

A completely different pub a different direction next, the Witchwood became the most famous music venue and real ale bar outside of Manchester, memories of so many star bands and creating one of the best real ale pubs, with customers from all walks of life. 
Suddenly the music stops and I become aware of the present surroundings, a voice calls out are you coming for your dinner it's on the table. Thanks Marjorie I shout out. Memories are made of this.