22 December 2007

OPC as a boy

As a kid I spent more time in a sweater than I care to remember. So I will not be writing about that. Instead I’d like to tell you about the memories I stored under the floorboards of my childhood bedroom. I crammed my entire childhood under that floor. It was quite a large floor. But I forgot to take them when I left home. You always forget something, don’t you? So, I shall just have to make something up.

My father was a mechanic, just like his mother and her mother before her. His father was disappointed. Why couldn’t he have chosen a more masculine career? Was there something “wrong” with him? But my father could not be swayed, the big girl’s blouse.

Freda, my mother, was a rather forlorn woman. I don’t think I ever saw her smile. She constantly told us about all the terrible things that were happening in the world. Whether the smallest misfortune, such as the loss of ten pence, or something of the order of famine or war, all news would be recounted with the same grave, almost rhetorical "Isn’t it dreadful?", to which we all had to reply, solemnly, "Hmm, yes, isn’t it," or she would come over all discombobulated. Sometimes we wouldn’t reply at all, just to watch her agitation. If she’d known this I’m sure she would have thought it dreadful.

It was myself and my brothers who liked to see our mother agitated once in a while. I had seven brothers, one for every day of the week. Although I preferred Thursday, my parents insisted that I play with the others too. I tried to swap them with my friends who also had unwanted brothers, but they always found their way back eventually. Come to think of it, if I recall correctly, there was quite a trade in unwanted siblings going on amongst the kids at my school. Sometimes it would disrupt lessons and the teacher would confiscate them all. "Come to me at the end of the day and you can have them back," she’d tell us. Of course some of us would just leave them there. My best friend Larry’s brother once spent the whole of Spring term in a teacher’s drawer living on confiscated sweets. He was very thin by the end of it and fortunately it was only his baby-teeth that had rotted away.

Like many other families have done, both before us and since, we owned pets - two cats and two dogs. My brothers and I were allowed to name them and were supposed to look after them. But we got bored and they never got properly trained. Consequently they were a terrible, unruly bunch of creatures, forever fighting, making noise, chasing eachother and generally causing chaos. (The animals, that is, not my brothers. Although, them as well). It was very rare that more than an hour or two would pass without one or other of my parents having to discipline or separate the animals in some way. I dread to think how often our neighbours would hear my parents yelling at Yes, No, Go Away, and Voices, telling them to "stop it," get outside," "behave," or "be quiet." They must have thought we were dreadful pet owners.

Incidentally, we rarely saw our neighbours. When we did do, they seemed very nice. If a little shy. Most times they would just smile or nod at us, then quickly disappear back inside their houses. I suppose it would have been nice if we'd all become friends, but at least they never caused us any problems. After all, some people have terrible difficulties with their neighbours.

We did see people from Social Services a lot, though. I never did find out why.

#

I was a very literal-minded child. At the age of four, someone told me that the good die young. From that moment on I believed that all old people were evil, and that the older you got the more evil you must be. I now know that this may not actually be true, but still I can’t help harbouring a profound distrust toward the elderly. They can’t all be as harmless as they look. And those smiles are as false as their teeth.

Although I love my parents, I didn't have a good relationship with my grandparents. My great-grandparents I killed.

It just seemed the logical thing to do at the time and I couldn't work out for the life of me why no-one had done it sooner. Maybe they were scared? Anyhow, when I remind my parents of this during family get-togethers, you know how such events always get to reminiscing, they always deny it:

"Really! I don't know how you got that into your head. We've told you before, the coroner recorded a verdict of misadventure."

"No I don't know why they were both making toast in the bath… but you can't keep blaming yourself."

Parents don't like to think the worst of their offspring. The elderly, though, they will quite happily credit with all kinds of stupidity. Especially when a great uncle has already died in similar circumstances.

Fortunately, murder turned out to be just one of those passing childhood phases, like wetting the bed; most unfortunate, but you'll laugh about it later. By six years old my interests had turned to those of any other six year old boy my age: football, cartoons, sweets, cowboys, monsters, sustaining minor injuries, playing with guns, pretend fights, wrestling, playing war, getting muddy and banging things. Many of these activities could, of course, be combined and indeed were, though at that innocent age, mercifully, we had no notion of such invidious things as multi-tasking, efficiency or time-saving (or so many of the other things that would come to blight our adult lives, such as proactivity, bank charges and still waking up at 6am even though it's your bloody day off).

By far the most popular game at my school was playing war. For some reason, my friend Larry has always had an encyclopaedic knowledge of both World Wars. Even at six and a half years old he could discuss in detail the Battle of the Bulge, the effectiveness of Allied propaganda, and why Hitler was mistaken in his belief that he could fight a war on two fronts. He was also the only boy I've ever known who could quote Sun Tzu. However, a boy called Luke was more popular than Larry (Star Wars - Return of the Jedi had just come out), and he favoured more modern wars, such as the Yom Kippur War or the US invasion of Grenada. Consequently we usually spent playtimes trying to take the Golan Heights or stabilise the political situation following the Stalinist coup by Bernard Coard. Not that the politics concerned any of us particularly, it all just seemed like good fun back then. Fortunately we grew out of such silliness. Unlike a certain Texan and his idiot son. Anyway, like I said, mostly Luke got his way, but on one memorable occasion Luke was off sick, so Larry managed to persuade us all to play a game of Nazis versus Allies.

The Nazis lost, of course, but real fighting broke out when the Allies, upon trying to claim reparations, were informed by Larry that all his sweets were safely deposited in a Swiss bank vault under an assumed name. All of us demanded to know the passwords, even those who had been on the Nazi side. Admirably, despite hideous torture, he never cracked. Although some of his bones did. We weren't allowed to play that game again. As Larry later said on being told the sad news, once he could talk again, "Perhaps it is not so good to get what you want," a realisation that took Schopenhauer many more than six and a half years of his life to arrive at. Despite such precocity, like many of our nation's finest young minds (and many of its most stunted, it must be said), Larry ended up working in a call centre. He is now a team leader. I can think of no more tragic fate that could befall a young man.

And on that sorry note I shall end my childhood reminisences for the time being. Not for any particular reason. I just can't be bothered to write anything further at present. Except this. And this. But nothing else. Except that. The "nothing else" bit, that is. Well, and that last bit. And that one. Erm... Oh, whatever, I was never any good at endings.

90 Comments:

Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you? Well, nope. This post is called Bob.

03:53  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, I'm not!

03:54  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

Yes, you are. That's what it says on your comment.

03:55  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

[indignant] But I'm not Bob.

03:55  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, I am!

03:56  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

And me.

03:56  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

And so's my wife.

03:59  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yes, I'm his wife.

04:00  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

And me.

04:00  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Bob! You're a bigamist?

04:01  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh no! Is that you Bob? How many more of my wives are here?

04:01  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well, I'm here.

04:03  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Me too.

04:03  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh no, Bob! Polygamy?! I thought I was the only one.

04:04  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Now look what you've done!

04:04  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, Bob.

04:05  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, the other one, of course. I've never even met you before.

04:07  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well, there's no need to say it like that! I've never met you before either. But do you see me italicising in an aggressive manner?

04:08  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, Bob! [sobs] Why did it have to come to this?

04:09  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I thought you knew, Bob. I called out other Bobs' names so often. You must have suspected something?

04:11  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No.

[sobs]

There was only ever one Bob for me. Aside from me.

Why, oh why, did you need more Bobs, Bob?

04:13  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yes, why? I thought I was enough.

04:14  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yes, and me.

04:14  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Me too.

And so did my wife.

04:15  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

One at a time. Please!

04:16  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

[sobbing defiantly] Ha! If only!

12:38  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

Look, is one of you my blogpost?

12:39  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I told you already, I'm not called Bob.

12:40  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

There he goes again with the italicising. Most uncalled for.

12:41  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, that was another Bob.

12:42  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Two of you ar at it? Suddenly the atmosphere seems a little menacing.

12:47  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't be so sensitive.

12:50  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

[gasps] Oh! I can't stand it. This is bare-faced persecution now.

12:51  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, for goodness sake!

12:53  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

[cowering] No, please! No more.

12:54  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, ignore him. He's always like that.

12:55  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yes, he had a very sheltered childhood. Never heard a raised voice until he left home. He's been a nervous wreck ever since.

12:57  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That's private! [jumps] Aaahhh! No more!


Oh. That was me that time, wasn't it?

12:58  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, dear God!

13:00  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

Shush! He'll hear you.

Anyway, which of you is my blogpost?!

13:01  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well, it's not me. Do you really think I'd put my name to nonsense like that?

13:03  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I certainly wouldn't.

13:03  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Nor me.

13:03  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

And I'm not even called Bob.

13:04  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't listen to him. He's in denial.

13:06  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, I'm not!

13:06  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I rest my case.

13:07  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well, I'm not in denial about being his blogpost.

13:09  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, I am.

13:10  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

And me.

13:10  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

You can't both be my blogpost.

13:11  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, but we can both be in denial about being your blogpost. Except one of us is actually right.

13:12  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

[dives for cover] Stop it! I can't take all this gratuitous violence!

13:13  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

How about a job-share arrangement?

13:14  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oo, that might be good.

13:14  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

What you want to job share the post of being my, erm, post?

13:15  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No, of course not. I meant we could share responsibilities for denying being your blogpost.

13:16  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yep, you can do all the days of the week with a 'y' in them, and I'll do all the rest.

13:17  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sounds fair to me.


Hey! You nearly had me there.

13:18  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Damn.

13:18  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

Right. You can deny it all you like, but I know one of you plague of Bobs is my blogpost. Though, frankly, I no longer care which. Do what you like. I'm off for lunch.

13:21  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oo, do we get lunch breaks?

13:21  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oo, I do hope so.

13:22  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

Oh, good grief! Have lunch, have breakfast. Whatever you like. I don't care!

13:23  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

[now a gibbering wreck] No more! Please, stop the fighting.

[very quietly and pitifully] Please.

13:25  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

[disappears quickly before soup gets cold]

13:26  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Now, Bob, look what you did!

19:49  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Who? Me? Are you talking to me?

19:50  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yes of course I am. You scared him away!

19:52  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I didn't. Or did I? He didn't look so frightened. Or did he? Was it something I said? Oh no, it must have been something I said or...

19:53  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Of course it was something you said. He might assume we would want to do something to him. Well, look at us.
All this irresponsible polygomy. All these wifes and husbands. All named Bob. [sigh] He was such a nice chap.

19:56  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

But I am not a wife.

19:58  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You aren't? You are a man?

19:59  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No. Erm, and you call him a nice chap?
He was supposed to be celebrating and here he is telling how he murdered his great-grandparents.
With a toaster... oh my god...

20:01  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You didn't tell him you spend your weekends alone with a toaster, did you? You didn't. You did? You stupid little ... thing!

20:03  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Erm, I might have...quite accidentally.
Fortunately he can't find back here. We are so very well hidden under the floor.

20:06  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, yes, that's true. Also, he said it is a large floor. I'm so glad you didn't tell him you are actually a dog. [sigh of relief]

20:08  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well...

20:09  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, for heavens sake Bob!

20:10  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

[barks happily]

20:12  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sit down. I said sit. Sit! Sit down now!

20:13  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

[drooling happily]

20:15  
Blogger Taiga the Fox said...

May I say, you have hidden your memoirs very nicely under the the floorboards of your blogroom.

I think I knew Larry's distant relative Barry once. He was my friend when I was seven and he knew
everything there's worth to know of solid geometry, cosmic noise and interplanetary relationships.

I also knew a girl named Sally very closely. She wanted to be a boy and know all those things, but knowledge of the moonboot-patterns wasn't enough.

Sally specialized in mythology and horse-breeding. She saw Barry twice after school.
Once in the park on all fours. Barry said he was researching how fast an ant can walk, but Sally thought he was looking for some mushrooms.

The second time Barry was standing in the train station a day before he died. Sally is a mother now dreaming of writing a book.
I think she should have read some Schopenhauer.

20:48  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

If Sally is who I think she is, she definitely shouldn't be reading more Schopenhauer. In my limited experience, it's very depressing. Besides, what else is there to do in life, but to keep striving for things? When you stop, if you're not careful, you can find yourself working in a call centre [shudders at the memory].

01:07  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

Larry was actually kind of based on two different people I knew at school, both of whom were obsessed with military type things. One in a benign "those shiny medals sure are purty", "Oo, isn't that pointy", spent his lunchtimes looking at books of military collectables kind of a way. The other in a faintly disturbing, liked marching, joined the cadets, knew way too much about guns kind of a way.

The former I met at high school, but lost touch with. There was a certain nobility to his oddball ways that I didn't properly appreciate at the time, and I kind of miss him.

The latter I knew from the age of four. I don't know exactly what he was. Somewhere between a friend and an acquaintance. We shared no interests and I didn't agree with a thing he said, but we kind of talked now and again. He was a clever guy, but got totally screwed up by his parents' divorce (I understood from the adult grapevine that it was kind of messy). He sided with his Dad, who had been in the army. Hated his Mum. He also died. In a car accident about three years ago. I don't know if he'd made any kind of peace with her.

01:49  
Blogger patroclus said...

OPC, I can't find my way around in here, I don't know who's what or what's true or what isn't, but you do have a way of writing about things that always makes me want to cry. In a good way.

20:35  
Blogger Occasional Poster of Comments said...

Very kind of you, P.

I'm not sure any of it is true, exactly. Well, that last comment was, but probably not much else.

And I'm also having trouble finding my way around. I might have to do a bit of fiddling with the layout, or links, or something. I always "tut" at hard to navigate websites, and now mine's become one.

The latter Bobs were Taiga's, by the way. And very funny they were, too.

[wanders off thinking about a Church of the Latterday Bobs]

23:02  
Blogger Dave said...

And I'm completely lost about how recent this post is, and whether I've been missing anything.

By the way, did I mention that my name is really Robert?

Keep up the good work fighting forest fires.

07:39  
Blogger Dave said...

Have now realised this is no 9. I must have missed it first time round.

Ignore me.

08:26  
Blogger Sopwith-Camel said...

After months, I've just realised this blog is still active. I name it The Vesuvius Blog.

A riveting yarn, and I'm looking forward to the next installment. What'll it be called? Tales of Puberty and Investigation?

10:43  

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