Should I be surprised what writing about my childhood reveals?

Running down the grassy field towards the burn, where the minnows swam on a summers day, made us laugh and grin. No school today, no messages to fetch from the corner shop and no little brother crying after my sister and me.

Voices shouted from the bridge, loud and excited. Someone had caught a fish and was trying to put it in a jar. Mothers dried wet feet and handed out sandwiches. Someone yelped. He had cut his foot on a sharp stone and needed a bandage. A handkerchief was tied around it. There was a splash – a boy slid on a slippery stone and got soaked.

We weren’t allowed to join in the fun. We had to find our own minnows and stay put on our side of the fence. Over on the other side were the townies and we were country folk.

It’s amazing what we learn about ourselves and our roots when we delve into our childhood.

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