Writer's Block: Down on Memory Lane
Feb. 11th, 2009 03:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
finncullen[Error: unknown template qotd]I have no idea how old I was, but I remember it vividly and have always identified this as my earliest memory. I was certainly quite a small Finn at the time, and probably devastatingly cute.
My mother was talking in the living room, to a friend of hers (I believe a neighbour) who had popped in to visit. I remember walking downstairs and thinking at the time that I shouldn't be able to do that. In hindsight I think the gate-thing on my bedroom door must have been left ajar. And I remember that I really really wanted to eat an orange.
I have no idea why.
I got downstairs and turned right, into our living room. My mother was talking away to this friend of hers. It must have been a very involving conversation as neither seemed to notice me. So I simply wandered through into the kitchen and helped myself to an orange from the fruitbowl in there. I recall being frustrated that I couldn't peel it with my fingers so I just bit into the skin as I walked back into the living room.
Bitter. I remember how bitter the orange-peel was, and as I came in the room I must have made some noise of dismay at the taste and my mother's friend was so startled she physically jerked and spilled her tea. I think I got a telling off, because I can dimly remember protesting 'I just wanted an orange'. As it turned out, I didn't. The taste made me sick. Never been that big a fan of them ever since...
My mother was talking in the living room, to a friend of hers (I believe a neighbour) who had popped in to visit. I remember walking downstairs and thinking at the time that I shouldn't be able to do that. In hindsight I think the gate-thing on my bedroom door must have been left ajar. And I remember that I really really wanted to eat an orange.
I have no idea why.
I got downstairs and turned right, into our living room. My mother was talking away to this friend of hers. It must have been a very involving conversation as neither seemed to notice me. So I simply wandered through into the kitchen and helped myself to an orange from the fruitbowl in there. I recall being frustrated that I couldn't peel it with my fingers so I just bit into the skin as I walked back into the living room.
Bitter. I remember how bitter the orange-peel was, and as I came in the room I must have made some noise of dismay at the taste and my mother's friend was so startled she physically jerked and spilled her tea. I think I got a telling off, because I can dimly remember protesting 'I just wanted an orange'. As it turned out, I didn't. The taste made me sick. Never been that big a fan of them ever since...
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Date: 2009-02-11 08:31 pm (UTC)My earliest memory is when I was maybe two or three, we'd just moved to Canada. My parents weren't very wealthy, and the three of us lived on the upstairs floor of a Georgian house that we shared with another couple of families.
I recall (and am quite certain that) I was devastatingly cute, because I remember taking my father's big mittens and pulling them on my feet to use as socks. I danced around in them :D