My life, a true tale! (1)

Without keeping a diary of all of your secret thoughts it is impossible to log every single day of your life. There are some memories, some moments, that you keep lodged in your brain and can't shake. So begins the story of my memories...

My earliest memory is of my brother. We are only a year or so apart in age, yet we are light years apart in personality. I recall my mum being in a hurry to take us out somewhere, (I think it was to a doctor's appointment), and I remember thinking how silly my mum was for being so stressed out. My brother had conveniently filled his nappy at the last second just as we were going out the door and my mum was shouting at me like it was my fault. She lifted my brother up onto a towel, undid the nappy, and began the cleaning process. I remember standing there watching, and all I could think was, "if babies all smell like that then I am NEVER having one!" At the time, my brother was about two and a half years old and I was touching four years of age. I never understood why my mum was always stressed out and why she never seemed happy. She was always so cross with me and I didn't know why. I figured it was my fault somehow so tried, (without success), to make her happy. I recall that when people would come up to my mum and say I was cute or pretty, that she would turn around and say "she's not pretty, she's ugly!" I didn't know what depression was and life seemed so simple for me as a small child. I found adults to be confusing, agressive giants and I certainly didn't want to become one!

Another memory from my fourth year was when I started nursery. Back then nursery was almost a novelty. A majority of children went straight to school at the age of five without even socialising with other children. There were so many rules in nursery, and the day was set to a strict regime. You even had an alloted time to go to the toilet. If you didn't go to the toilet when you were meant to go, then you had to hold it in until the next "set" toilet time. We went to the toilet and washed our hands before we had a snack, (which consisted of milk in a little cardboard box and a biscuit). The teacher then read a story and on completion we would all have a nap. One time, when everyone else went to the toilet, I didn't want to go so I just washed my hands and sat on the mat. We had snack and then a story and by this time I needed a wee. The teacher would not let me go because I "should have gone when the other children went". I pleaded and pleaded but they wouldn't let me go. Instead they left me to wet myself and they kept me in my wet clothes right up until just before me mum came to collect me at the end of the day. I felt so ashamed, upset, and uncomfortable. Having to go outside in the cold with wet trousers was chilling to say the least! When my mum arrived I was dressed in a clean set of clothes and my mum was told I had wet myself. I tried to explain but it was my word against theirs and I don't think my mum knew who to believe but she was very cross. She practically dragged me home. She was squeezing my wrist so tightly that it hurt. She tugged hard on my wrist, wrenching my arm, forcing me to walk quicker to keep up with her. I was practically running because I had to step three steps to her one step. When we got back home I was sent to bed for the rest of the day. I cried at first and then fell asleep until the next day when it was time for breakfast.

Oh how I hated that nursery! The teachers were awful to most of the children. I recall that they had a big rocking horse, and they would only let their favourite pupils play on it. I remember all the "deserving" kids standing in a line, waiting for a go on this rocking horse. Myself and some other children, the "undeservings," begged to be allowed a turn. But the teachers were rough with us and pushed us out of the way. We were forced to stand there and watch the others having fun whilst we missed out. Once the last child had sat on the rocking horse, we would be ushered outside to play. If the weather was bad the teachers used to stand inside the building and leave us out there to get soaked. One particularly sunny day I had been dragged away from the rocking horse and I was led outside to play. The last rider, (a little girl), was still rocking happily. I waited a couple of minutes and then I asked the teacher if I could go to the toilet. The teacher said "yes" but I had other plans... Instead of going to the toilet I went up to the girl on the horse and asked her politely if I could have a turn. She answered "no!" I asked nicely a few more times but she said still refused. This made my blood boil, (this is my first memory of ever feeling real anger). I pushed the girl clean off the horse and left her crying on the floor. I mounted the rocking horse and began to rock furiously as though my life depended on it. The creaking of the wood beneath me, and the butterflies in my tummy were incredible. I was having such a wonderful time that I didn't notice when the girl ran outside to tell the teacher I'd pushed her off the rocking horse. I was lost in my own world where I was riding a real horse out in a grassy field, when suddenly I was snapped back to reality by the booming voice of my teacher. She shouted so loudly that it startled me into letting go of the reins. I came crashing down off the horse head first and I hit the floor hard. I screamed so loudly I thought the roof might blow off the top of the building. I knew I would be in trouble for being naughty. On scanning the room I noticed that there was only the two of us in the building. On hearing my screams, the other teachers came rushing in from the playground. As soon as their feet hit the carpet I started shouting out "she pushed me" over and over again whilst pointing to the teacher who had ended my fun. Once again it was my word against theirs, but this time it was one on one with no witnesses. There was no proof either way so the teachers decided to brush it under the carpet and pretend it didn't happen. I felt so happy! I had got one over on the nasty teacher and I had finally tested the rocking horse out. The fact that I never got to have another go on the wooden horse ever again didn't bother me at all. I think that sometimes if you let children have a taster so they know what they're missing, then they aren't so bothered if they don't experience it again. They just want to know that it's like that's all!