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It was the summer of 69.

The baobab tree took centre stage in the playground. Stageleft, a set of swings in front of the girls dormitory. Stageright, the schoolrooms. I was being directed towards themain door. Straight ahead was were my debut as a boarderwas just about to begin.

…

That summer had been the best yet. The sun shone fromwhen I got up until I went to sleep. We were all on a longholiday. Two months with no school and lots of trips to theseaside with Mumand Dad. We packed up and left the housein Belfast and headed north. We were going to stay at thehouse across the road. It was called that because it wasacross the road from my Uncle’s farm. The house across theroad belonged to another uncle, but he was in the tropics.“Your Uncle Jack lives in the tropics and when we move outthere I’ll tell him what you’ve done, my Dad warned me.”I didn’t break my Uncle’s favourite ornament, but mybrother John said if I squealed on him he’d kill me. He wouldhave too. The house across the road wasn’t too far from my favouritebeach, White Park Bay.

We weren’t allowed to go swimmingthere as the currents were dangerous and people had met their end there.

My Dad had warned me about that too. I’dlots of fun playing hide and seek. Cause, I knew where tohide and I always won. I think because John’s glasses keptsteaming up and he had to stop to wipe them. When he waswiping them I’d run and hide somewhere else. That summer we also went shopping. Mum had a list frommy new school of everything I’d need there. She bought metee shirts, shorts and gutties. She also bought blankets andhangers and a special box for me, which had a hairbrush anda comb and a clothes brush in it. She also got me a newsuitcase and a trunk. Then she brought them home andwrote and sewed my name on them. It didn’t take long forher to pack the trunk and send it away. It was sent ahead of us because it would take longer for it to get there than itwould for us to.We were going to live in the tropics, but John wasn’t. Johnwas going to another school. He was going to a school inWales. I thought Wales was like a big fish in the sea, butthere was a place called Wales.

Mumand Dad were going over to Wales with John and I hadto stay with Uncle Fred to help him on the farm. So I helpedhim with the milking. I helped him take the milk churns tothe end of the lane every morning. I helped herd the cowsback into the field. I even had my own herding stick. Itwasn’t just any stick; my stick was made of hard rubber, justlike Uncle Fred’s. When I wasn’t working I’d play in a den I’dmade myself in the hay shed. I’d dug really deep in behindlots of bales and made a place where nobody would everfind me.Mumand Dad came back without John and we got all ourcases packed. The next day Uncle Fred took us to the airportin his Ford Anglia. I got on the plane and got a seat besidethe window. We were flying to London first on a BOAC plane.When we got there we had to go on a double decker andthen use the underground on our way to stay with a friend of my Dads. I couldn’t wait to fly again the next day. I couldn’twait to get to Nigeria. My Dad’s friend gave us a lift to theairport and on the plane I got another seat beside thewindow. It was boring; after we’d taken off and climbed upinto the sky all I could see was the clouds. Then when thereweren’t any clouds all I could see out the window was sand.Sand and more sand, how boring is that. Then the pilotannounced, “Ladies and Gentlemen would you please fastenyour seat belts”. I felt sick; the plane was starting to godown. “Mum I think I’m going to be sick”. My Mumhadpulled out a bag and held it in front of me. The plane hadlanded and I started to fill the bag. “I feel better now Mum”.I got out of the plane and it was hot. It was hotter than thehottest summer day I’d ever felt. Mumsaid it was like anoven. I thought we’d finally arrived but we all went over toanother plane. This time it was a little plane, a 6 seaterCessna. My Dad sat in the front beside the pilot and me andmy Mumsat behind them. The pilot had headphones on andkept talking to someone on them. He asked my Dad to holdthe door open. The plane started to go faster and fasteralong the runway. “You can shut it now” the pilot said as wegot into the air. This plane was more fun. “Look Mum, look atthose black people down there”. “Look at all those mud hutsover there, Mum”. “Look, those cows have big long horns onthem” This plane was fun to fly in. That night we stayed at a hotel and it was nice. We’d flownto a place my Dad called the Plateau; he said” it’s coolerhere and has a far more pleasant temperature. This is wherelots of people come on holiday to”. The next morning Dad

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dave_todd

Rose. Yeah It's been a while and I'll have to get around to writing a few based on that time of my childhood.I'll probably spice them up a bit though.

reply07 / 01 / 2009

Rose

I like your story. It paints a clear picture. Looks like it has been awhile. Are you going to share more stories?

reply06 / 30 / 2009