Guess what? I hit 60. Getting to this milestone you begin to think. Ponder about the past.
It's like doing a long run round a park and looking back on your route, "Did I really travel that far?"
I thought I had a fairly ordinary childhood. Working class parents, living in Orpington in the late 60's to the 80's with a bunch of people all growing up in the same battered boat. The majority of Families plopped from London to the "Garden" of England. Raised by the parents, or the children of parents who witnessed the Blitz.
True life time horror played out in real time, living in you forever in the darkest crevasses of the mind.
Parents like my dad, who had witnessed a boy machine gunned to death in his playground by a German fighter plane. His father, affectionally referend to as POP (It seemed to strike fear in my father), a war time fireman at the time, drowning kittens in a bucket in front of my young Dad because they couldn't afford to feed them. My mum had TB as a child during the war and was hospitalised until she was a late teen. Shunned by her family she had to make it on her own. They thought she might still be "Infectious".
These people who carried those scars those traumas raised me, and I don't think that was particularly abnormal in my area to have a family like this bring you up. Looking through you with those thousand yard stares. Having thought about this it was normal to be taught by these adults that were all traumatised, a community affected by the violence of the war, indeed all wars of the first half of the last century.
It was a very angry, violent area. That's why I relate to the Klingons in Star Trek Next Generation. I envy Worf. That dude got out and had a good up bringing.
So, with this little Blog I intend to write little bits about my life as a form of therapy. Because I've come to the conclusion I might be a messed up a bit. I am hoping that I might be able to reflect and learn something useful about myself. Hopefully having a laugh along the way.
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