Child Heart

A wonderful article which made me think fondly of the days I used to spend outside. Not outside with a new toy, or a gameboy or because I was forced.

No, outside, exploring the undergrowth, fermenting grass and leaves that had been a forgotten "meal" for adventurer me. Outside, getting stuck in the mud (literally, I had to take off my wellies and pull them out with both hands), and parading around in my kingdom (the overgrown wall at the bottom of the garden). Swinging from the tree branches, getting nettle stings and then hunting down dock leaves (as a "cure" that never really worked), and playing tennis against the side of the house (the house winning every game). Sitting atop gates making faces at the cows, and squealing loudly and running away if the bulls came too close. Exploring the rocky fields on the outskirts of our farm, pretending the rocks were mountains to be conquered. Playing hide and seek, and calling it "hunt" when we became teens.

My Dad used to chop wood, for some extra cash, so often we'd have a hewn forest at the top of the concrete yard - it was heaven. It was a tree house we never got bored with, that we didn't have to build, that was replaced with a newer model every few months.

"That's the bedroom - that long tree can be the beds, this is the sitting room, oh and this bit looks like a kitchen - this flat bit can be the stove/hob, oh and that's gonna be the table."

Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of bumps and bruises and we broke all the health and safety rules. I recall falling from a tree, at the top of the pile, onto a stuck out branch which broke, the pointy stub cutting my back. I remember my "Victoriana" trike (tricycle) tipping over while I was on the trunk at the back, and my head making a rather solid contact with a concrete path. I was also kicked in the stomach, by a young foal in our pasture, at about age four. Despite these incidents, and many daredevil stunts and generally stupid acts, I have never broken a bone (I don't think) and so my childhood was definitely balanced toward the good, carefree and happy.

In true reminiscent fashion I should mention: I did once do a "number two" atop our large chest freezer (age 2), I once ran away to the end of the road (about a mile) before my Mum and Dr hauled me into the car and home (after having taken the other road, it took them about half an hour to locate me, at an age when I should ahve known better). Oh and there exist far too many photos of me starkers (i.e. nude), how did such an exhibitionist child turn into "me?"

(N.B. the last photo of me naked, which was taken in the public domain of the campsite we visited annually, was when I was about nine[!!!!] - I rushed out of the tent to see a rabbit! There's innocence, there's youth, and there's naïveté).

I have noticed that all my comments have absolutely nothing to do with said article - oh well, hope y'all read it anyway. Have to also mention The Common Room's excellent introduction to the word:

eleemosynary \el-uh-MOS-uh-ner-ee\, adjective:
1. Of or for charity; charitable; as, "an eleemosynary institution."
2. Given in charity; having the nature of alms; as, "eleemosynary assistance."
3. Supported by or dependent on charity; as, "the eleemosynary poor."

I know it's not wordy weds but still, my aim is to use it this week (correctly and uncontrived - as if). Dr sis already looks at me funny with my use of big words, so this one will definitely earn me a look. Am going to teach it to Mum also as she loves big words, we both share a love of the, most interesting, English language. English may not have many different words for snow but it's still fun.

"Me"