On a thundery morning, close to dinner-time, or so I’m told, in a bedroom of 36 Percy St. Eastwood, Nottinghamshire I took my first breath and announced to the world I was here. The scene was probably very similar to those featured in the 1950’s series of “Call the Midwife”; no doctor attended, the midwife shooed Dad out the door to look after my brother (I suppose) whilst outside the weather took a turn for the worse, thunder and lightning and torrential rain. All was well, except the mid-wife had difficulty starting the car afterwards……….again this is me recalling what I’ve been told about the event. It would be interesting to hear what my brother remembers about my arrival? Strange I’ve not thought to ask him before now.
I remember the house quite well, and knew that I loved it and would have fond memories of it. I have returned to the house on recent trips only once feeling brave enough to knock on the door to see if I could introduce myself to current owners – however either no-one was home, or they didn’t want to answer the door to this complete stranger. I’m glad it is still there, and still looks basically the same just fresh new painted doors and gates to the side entrance.
So, here I am, 65 years later. Still loving stormy weather, occasionally getting nostalgic for the first house I knew, (except for the outside loo!) still generally making my presence felt, and always arriving not for dinner, but always for a cuppa!
Here is an interesting group of photographs to end this birthday post.