Where to begin? With this kind of re-telling, it’s hard to know where, so I will begin with my earliest memory - I had been hung out to dry by my nappy on the washing line in the back garden, and I am swaying slightly in the breeze, and enjoying the feeling of sunshine on my face.
I have no idea how old I was, and I only started to worry when I saw my brother G pelting towards me from the back of the house (Just seeing the look on his face made me scared enough to start whimpering) My sister L, and my brother J were the ones who had hung me on the washing line, and found the whole situation hilarious. I cannot remember what happened next…
Slightly unusual? My thoughts exactly. Although it took a while to realise exactly how unusual, as I had no frame of reference. My childhood was not normal. I was already in full time Kindergarten at the age of two, and was fast tracked into school aged three, when I could already read fluently - both silently and orally. I knew this was unusual, as I was the only one in my Kindergarten class who could read this way, and I loved books. I cannot remember the first book I read, neither can I remember a time when I didn’t enjoy reading.
I can only guess that it made sense to have me attend school at the same time as my sister, otherwise someone would have had to stay home to look after me. I was the youngest of five children (at this point, I had no notion of the other two boys my mother gave birth to) and home life was hectic, to say the least. We lived in Cardiff, literally over the road from the River Taff, and our house was built on old bluebell fields. We had hundreds of wild bluebells in the garden every year, and I loved them.
Living in a three bedroom house, my sister and I shared one room, and the three boys shared another. S was the eldest, and just over ten years older than me. J was next, followed by G - three boys followed by two girls, my sister L, and me. L was the first girl, and the absolute apple of everyone’s eye (even mine) She enjoyed being the Queen Bee, and had us all wrapped around her little finger. This power was one she used without hesitation, and it was a thing that became twisted over time.