As It Is...

When I was born in Manchester, the earliest thing I can remember is when I was 3 years old. The earliest thing I could remember, when I lived in Kensington Avenue, near Victoria park, there was a black and white cat we had called Sugar, sitting on the washing machine, and then I remember that I called mum to a friend's house over the road, and his parents apologized.

The next thing that I remember, about Manchester, was 1952, we had a television, there weren't many televisions in 1952 really, I remember very clearly it had doors on it, so that it looked like a cocktail cabinet when it wasn't switched on, and we watched the coronation of the queen. And I remember all the horses and all the king's men, and the royal carriage, and I think I remember seeing the church, but that might've been what I saw in the newspaper. Kind of ironic that the earliest members are of television and a cat. I don't know why, because I became allergic to cats later, so that might've had an effect on it, which was why my parents put him down when I was 5 and moved to London.

The last thing I remember about Manchester, was playing with my friend Simon, a little boy down the road. Outside his house by the front door was a bricked-in piece with soil in it, which was supposed to have planted a tree in it, around the front door. Kensington was still a private street, so the city council didn't keep it in good repair. The repair was paid for by tenants, and the landlord, like many landlords, didn't bother to do his job, so there were lots of potholes with water in it. Like they say in books, it seems to rain a lot in Manchester. But Simon and I had caught a lot of rain water in the block by the staircase, to make mud, like children do. Playing in mud and jumping in the potholes, and eventually I remember it was a whole afternoon playing in mud and rain in our best clothes, just like little boys do.

And I went home and mother told me off for being dirty, and I got changed into some different clothes. And there was a knock at front door, and it was Simon's mother, I don't remember her name, so I'll call her Mrs. Whatsit, Simon's mother. She said to my mother, "Look at the state of Simon's clothes!", and my mother said, "Yes, look at Neil's clothes". "But look at Simon's socks, they're filthy!", and my mother said, "Well at least they're grey socks and dirt doesn't show too much", and then Mrs. Whatsit, Simon's mother said, "They were white socks when he went out, Mrs. Megson!"

Funny how other people's parents when their children get into trouble come to your parents, and you're supposed to be punished to make it all better, even when your parents agree you've done nothing wrong.

Just to appease the social grouping.