An unusual childhood

[LadyOnArooftop]

When I was born the midwife slapped my mother on the arse to make her cry, then congratulated me for having a healthy parent who was a good weight. I should have known then that I was different. As a young child my parents never told me when it was time for bed, I told them to go to bed, and if they had a nightmare they came into my room. School was no different. The teachers used to raise their hand to speak to me, and I'd ask them if they'd done their homework. If I showed up late for school the other children apologised for being early. When I was 18, my parents left home. Once when I was pulled over for speeding, I let the policeman off with a warning. Whenever I go on holiday the customs officers show me their passports. I get the feeling that If I'd been on the Titanic, the iceberg would have moved aside. But you know what? I do feel completely at home on this forum.

Hey you, the fab forum few, feel free to share your childhood memories.

 

[roxlapalma]

ugly story b****

 

[LadyOnArooftop]

An ugly story? quite possibly...

 

[LadyOnArooftop]

My first memories of 'life' were in the womb, I remember it well, little did I know they were going to be the best days of my life. No private bupa hospital for my birth, our mam gave birth to me holding on to two branches. Yes, we were living in a tree at the time. In them days, we'd a' been glad to have the price of a cup o' tea. A cup of cold tea, without milk or sugar, OR tea! In a filthy, cracked cup if we were lucky. Most times we never had a cup, we used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper. Sometimes the best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth. But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor. At one time we were living in one room, sixteen of us, no furniture. Half the floor was missing. We were all huddled together in one corner for fear of falling! Then we lived for two years in a brown paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six o'clock in the morning, clean the bag, eat a crust of mouldy bread, go to work down coal mine for eighteen hours a day. When we got home, our dad (a Yorkshireman) would thrash us to sleep with his pipe, and we were grateful for it!