I missed January. so here is my first Story Telling Sunday with Sian Fair at High in the Sky. So many of the stories are based on memories, but I sometimes wonder how much we really do actually remember. Take my walking dolls for instance. I had 2 – one blonde and one with a thick mop of dark hair. I know exactly what they are like because they are in Puddle Duck’s bedroom. Even so I was convinced that the one in the picture had batteries, but she doesn’t. You have to hold her hand and rock her forward to make her walk.
I was also convinced that one of them talked, but neither of them do. The Grandma said the doll came from a relative in America. I thought she was bought when my brother was born – at which point in the conversation my mother decided that the american toys were all bought for her not me. I wonder if we are both wearing blue velvet dresses in the photo – which is what she told me.
I have the photos, I have the doll but I have no real memory of it from that time in my life.
So what was my first memory? I mean MY memory. Not one that has been pieced together later on, by seeing photographs or listening to stories told by adults who were present at the time. But something I really remember happening? I think it must be from my Play Group. There are no photos. The Grandma wasn’t there, so is not giving me her memories. I remember standing on something (maybe a crate?) and singing ‘I’m the King of the Castle’. But the big memory involves the Punch and Judy tent.
We were allowed in from tim to time – in pairs, to play with the hand puppets and ‘entertain’ the other children. I remember being inside the tent with another child. We were rummaging to the bottom of the box to find the puppet we wanted. I could hear another girl outside. She wanted to be next to play with the puppets, but she was scared of the crocodile. I heard the Play Group Worker reassuring her that the crocodile was at the bottom of the box. Then suddenly our time was over and we were called to leave the tent and the nervous child was shuffled in……….
………only to find the crocodile on top of the box. I don’t remember what happened next. I imagine she screamed and cried. I don’t know if we were admonished but I remember feeling just a little bit guilty….
Some notes on my LOs. the journalling block on My 1st real Memory was inspired by this post from Miss Smith.