Hello little blog

I do miss my little blog.
I come over here sometimes and have a peek and see how it's doing and check up on some of my favourite blogs; those ones over there on the right.
It's a bit like coming home. I'm not sure why I consistently neglect it but in spite of being full of good intentions it seems to happen.
Not today tho'. It's time I dropped in and brought it back to life a little.

Recently I've been spending a lot of  (okay, WAY too much) time on Facebook where I've been reconnecting with people I knew back in my old home town. Everybody's old home town has a FB page and if you want to go down memory lane it's the best possible place to do it. If they don't have a page for your home town then you need to start one.

There's something magical about childhood beginnings. Looking at pictures of places and people from over home, from times past evokes long forgotten memories which can often be quite emotional.

I think the older I get  means that in many ways, the past becomes more important. It's sort of like trying to figure out who you are and how you got here. I am hurtling towards a big birthday this year and I can't for the life of me figure out where the years have gone.

Someone on this FB page messaged me and mentioned quite a few details about myself and my family she recalled from growing up in the same street.  The funny thing is that I can not for the life of me remember HER. Nothing. I can go down the street and name every family in every house and this involves knowing the names of the people who lived in the houses to the left and the right of where she tells me she lived, but I cannot place her at all. I can picture the houses, the windows, the gardens, the curtains even. When I get to her house it's almost like it's boarded up in my head.  It's weird. I know I will walk or drive down that old street next time I'm visiting and then maybe the memory will be unlocked.

Then I've been messaging back and forwards with a girl I recognized on the page who lived in the next street to me. She had a large black, lazy old dog which we used to have to walk. I remember in her back garden was a magnificent gooseberry bush and we picked it bare and ate every one of those berries until I was almost sick. The first time I'd ever eaten gooseberries and I can instantly recall their taste now. I remembered her older sister who was part of a band with a very American name. Winetka Sound. It sounded so cool. They did 'gigs' in the North East and had a van with the band's name painted on the side. I told her my memories and she was thrilled. But. She can't remember the gooseberry bush and has only a vague idea of who I am. Not that this has stopped us becoming 'reacquainted'. We've been chatting online and sharing our 'my-life-so-far' stories. It seems it's enough that we share memories of other people and places, stories and events to connect us.

I've connected with several old friends from school. I went to the same school with all of the same people from infants to seniors, then I left at the age of 13 to go to a convent grammar school after passing my 13 plus. The worst two years of my life. They showed me the door at 15 which was a relief to me, because I'd never fitted in, but was a big shock for my mother, God love her. I shattered all of her dreams right there. Anyway I know all of the people from my first schools and have connected with them so easily again and hope to see some of them when I go home in May for a visit and a birthday celebration. I don't think I could say the same about the convent school. Don't know anyone from those days and probably wouldn't recognize their names or faces. I do  remember the nuns though.

So anyway. I have to go and fold some laundry and make a Sunday dinner for the troops; i.e. the family. But it's been nice to visit and I might come back again soon.