Growing Up

I grew up on a council estate, not just any housing estate, but THE best one possible.

Everyone knew each other, we were poor, but so were they. If we borrowed a cup of sugar,they borrowed egg, beans, chips, bread, butter and the cutlery to serve it on.

As kids, we stayed around "our own end", which to be fair, was pretty much the best part with shops, park, playing fields and our very own adventure playground "The Valley".

It sounds exotic, but it was only an overgrown beck, with trees on the far side that was crossed by a large black sewage pipe. You had to balance, precariously, on it, five feet above the water to get across, woe betide the humiliation of falling into the smelly, stagnant water below, or the clip round the ear you'd get when you got home, because your clothes were filthy and no one had a washing machine, we used the launderette close by, and only when there was a full weeks worth.

I still remember that fateful day, when Rob tried to get across the pipe. We were going across to cut down trees for bonfire night. He slipped halfway over, his legs going either side of the pipe and found that testicles, although painful, make a very good stopping tool, pardon the pun. It brought tears to his eyes, albeit painful ones, but also to ours when we couldn't stop laughing at his misfortune.

They were strange days. If we were bored, we would stand at the bus stop, and when one arrived, ask if they had any spare ticket rolls to play with. Invariably they would throw one to us, which we would then just unroll and throw into the streets.
Throwing played a huge part in growing up. We couldn't afford fish and chips, so when it was quiet, we'd pop in to the local chip shop and ask for a bag of scraps, little bits of fried batter that had broken off in the fryer. We'd eat a few, then spend half an hour, pelting each other with them. You'd be picking bits out of your hair for months. 

Bonfire night was great fun, throughout the estate, groups of kids "in their own end" would acquire the wood for their "bondy" and build the biggest and best one around. Well that was until we snuck around in the middle of the night and set fire to them, making sure that the naughty magazines being used as tinder, had been spared the inferno.

We were cunning, we stored all of our fuel in our sheds, and would build it as late as possible, to avoid those pesky arsonists getting hold of it. We would become commandos on Nov 5th, sneaking into the kitchen and rescuing those large potatoes, and a big sheet of tin foil to make ourselves jacket potatoes in the fire. One of the posher kids washed his potato skin before bringing it but for us mud added a nutty texture to our supper.

We all looked forward to Christmas, especially it there was snow. The usual fun stuff like snowball fights, snowmen and grabbing kids to stuff yellow snow in their face. We'd make our way to the top of the bank near our houses, at the point where buses almost had to stop to turn the corner before descending. Here, we would crouch at the rear and take hold of the bumper for super sledging. We didn't have sledges, but our shoe's were so worn, the smooth surface slid at great pace down the hill anyway.

Christmas then was a different affair to now. We couldn't afford a Christmas tree, so a tree shaped decoration was placed in the windows and the fairy lights were the power cut candles stored in the kitchen drawer. Sadly the net curtains didnt survive their first Christmas after my sister lit the candle on the windowsill

Waking on Christmas morning was a time of excitement.......for other kids, we would have a stocking, well at least a sock filled with apple, singular, orange, singular and a couple of hazelnuts. I remember one year opening my first present and being over the moon to find a Dr Martin boot, THE thing to wear at the time, and then opening my next present to find the other boot. If only they'd been the same size and colour, I'd have been happy.

We were a family of hand me downs, sadly mine were handed down from my elder sister, which didnt help for PE, although the pants did feel rather nice next to my skin.

I'm all grown up now, with kids of my own, who think Facebook is a youth club to meet their friends, rather than interacting with real human beings, they don't know the joys of outrunning security dogs on the hospital building sites and jumping 30 foot from the top of the unfinished houses into a pile of builders sand below, and hobbling off with your broken ankle as a trophy. 

Clothes have to be a statement, with only the best good enough, although our jeans were way ahead of their time, with rips all over them, although not deliberately.

Relaxing is sitting in front of the Xbox playing the latest zombie flesh eating super Mario sonic hedgehog game. Which I shall now go and do, as these hand me down knickers are still riding up my arse and chafing.