From the mouth of babes..

I was born in 1978, in the UK. Grew up in a town that was/is and probably always will be made up of White Anglo-Saxon Protestants. Its a middle of the road town, where nothing interesting happened when I was growing up.

As for my childhood, which as you could guess this really should be about. I started off living in on a farm, for just under 3 years. Living with both my birth parents, from what I can tell it was a volatile relationship that was bound to end in disaster. Which it very nearly did, but my father left and possibly within a year of moving from the farm to the town I grew up in. He ran off with the local beat Bobbys wife. For those that do not know, beat Bobby is a Police Foot Patrolman, who would have a certain patch to walk around. I have very few memories of my Father, some of which are possibly not even real. My parents finally got divorced when I was 6, however when I was between 5 and 6, the man that has become my Dad met my Mum. He moved in after the divorce, which was perhaps the best thing to happen to my Mum and me.

As for my friendships before the age of 6, I know of at least six friends I had at that age that moved away. Plus my Mum has always worked, so I was looked after by a minder. Who had two children of her own, a boy and a girl. However they did not live in the same neighbourhood, so seeing them during the week and then returning to my own neighbourhood at the weekends, made things difficult with forming friendships. It should have been better what with having the two neighbourhoods to make friends in, however with having the six friends leave one of the neighbourhoods. It became difficult to make friends in that area and keep them due to the only being able to see them at weekends. Also I would miss out of getting closer to people at the other neighbourhood due to only being there during the week.

However before my Dad moved in, we would spend the weekends at his house. After he moved in, Saturdays would be spent with Mum and I shopping/browsing a city 30 miles away as Dad played sports. Sundays became the day the three of us would travel to my Grandads and we would spend the day there. First it was gardening, then decorating the house and then finally just being there. My parents went every week for roughly 13 years. I stopped going on a regular basis when I was 16, however I did not have many friends.

I think that my parents knew this and enlisted me in the Boy Scouts, starting as a Cub at the age of 8 to try and combat it. However, I was the only person from my neighbourhood and felt alone even there. However it taught me a lot of things that I do not think I could do without. How to use a knife, axe, read a map, rely on my sense of direction, pitch a tent, cook and a myriad of other things. I stopped going at the age of 15, mainly as I did not want to associate with the type of people that the eldest members of the group were turning into.

However I was a cheery child, until the age of 11. When I started secondary school, and the end of the first lesson of Physical Education. It was an event which shaped my social standing for the next 5 years in that school. During the showers, a couple of the other boys turned and shouted, pointing "SGA's got a hard-on." From that day on, I was gay or a pansy, and I only managed to lose the tag when I left the school and started college.


From that you can surmise one thing, I drift from subject to subject. Wanting to concentrate on one thing at a time. That shall be the end of this post, at around the age of 16.