Ten year old children have an abundance of unrelinquished energy, rarely understood by adults. Ten year old me, was no exception to the rule. Being ten, was definitely one of my finest moments.
The field and swamp behind our house @ 187 Toynbeee Trail in Guildwood village; gave me ample to time to explore this vast area, completely unfettered by adult expectation. That was key to my exploration – my parents had no idea what I was doing and I felt a complete abandonment of responsibility or judgment. I loved getting my feet and legs into the muddy swamp and searching for a variety of wildlife. A bucket full of frogs or a captured butterfly, meant I was looking at nature, through my own eyes. I hate to admit it, but, I owned a microscope, and actually dissected a frog by myself in the basement. My vintage microscope had a preserved frog in a jar.and was presented in a jar in my kit. There were many different slides and I spent a lot of time exploring things under the lens….human hair, frog blood, fingernails, butterfly wings. Today I did a google search and found my microscope on eBay…
Further to my time in Guildwood Village, I regularly visited the dilapidated farm along Morningside road, and road a dilapidated lazy old matted pony; always bareback alongside many other horses in similar condition. The walk to the barn, the trudge through the field pushing my old bike, are memories I won’t soon forget. I remember being alone during much of these explorations.
During those years, we were looked after by our grandma (Nanny Topping), who took great care to see that my hair was brushed and my clothing was clean and ironed. I will always remember the roast pork Sunday Dinner when my mum arrived home from her job as a nurse to a house full of music and my Dad and Nanny having a few pints. If memory serves me well, the roast might have been a little overcooked, and my mum was dismayed with the goings on; largely because she had missed the frivolity. It is one of the times, she jumped into the car; drove off, in a fit of well appreciated understanding from me. Dad always had a “Jazz/Music session of Sunday afternoons”, for as long as I can remember; and with Nanny along for the ride the two of them had a real hoot of a time…..drinking pints of beer, smoking plain end cigarettes and occasionally dancing.
I learned to appreciate this music session very early in my life, and to this day we regularly indulge ourselves in music of all sorts.
I have encouraged a few friends to share their stories about childhood and have been delighted with the results. One of the nicest memories came from a friend who remembers receiving a handcrafted 3-wood from his Grandfather. “I remember countless hours in our backyard, hitting air balls around with that club, sometimes hitting balls over the fence, into the neighbours yard, never to be seen again.”
I welcome your stories.
Kathryn Kastner 