Jumpers for Goalposts

We used to have a saying "whatever doesn't kill you can only make you stronger". That's so true man. The summer of '76. Well that saw a few people off, I can tell you. My Nan spent the whole of July with her feet in a bowl of cold water, cursin' the day she was born. She never took her stockings off, mind. That wouldn't have been decent. I caught her asleep once, mouth and legs agape, elastic bands supporting the rolls of stocking top which were rolled down to just above her knees. She had a thin band of sweat on her upper lip and she'd started to snore ever so softly. Joe and me, well we stood snickering there for a while taking turns to pee into the bowl. Joe kept missing but me..I could make a perfect arc of piss which spurted into the circle of water just missing Nan's ankles. Bored with this, we pinched some blackcurrants off the bush in the garden and lobbed them in the direction of Nan's open mouth. After scoring a direct hit, we took off before she properly came to and gave us a thrashing. Black medicine she used to call it. The affectionate name for the black strap which used to hang in the wash-house. A deterrent some might say. Nan said it saved her from hurting her hands After all, raising two young unruly boys is no joke. They need something to keep 'em in line.

Creased up with laughter, we ran down the back ginnel, cramming handfuls of marroon berries in our mouths. The bitter sweet fragrant juice running down our chins we were running feral, on the hunt for more trouble. Well, that's what the summer holidays were for. Free to roam the old railway line from breakfast 'til dusk. Only coming in when the midges started biting and the sound of "Get yer skinny arses in here now" rang out over the estate.

That was the start of the heatwave..and the start of us two growing up.