My Memories - Original Memories - 1255 Words

One of my earliest memories, as a young child growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, was the visits to my Nan’s home in south Ealing, west London. My family had moved from London to live in the seaside town of Weston-super-Mare in the mid 1960s. We had travelled to Weston by steam train but on returning to London for a visit, by the end of the 1960s, the coal eating steam trains were out and the odorous smell of diesel trains were in. The same steam engine carriages were still in use and were made up of individual compartments; my family of nine took up an entire compartment. Nan’s food larder was always well stocked for our visits; filled with goodies like Spam, corned beef, Piccalilli etc. At Nan’s house, unlike at home, I got the opportunity of sampling such delicacies like Spamish omelette and Spam fritters. Sounds exotic? Yes, to me they were. I love Piccalilli; it’s the kind of stuff that never entered my home back in the 1960s, too weird, too foreign. Whenever I see Piccalilli it always reminds me of Nan. My large family would have been pretty boisterous and quite a handful for a woman, who normally lived on her own, to put up with; an invasion of bodies filling every room of her Victorian terraced house. I loved my Nan’s cooking; it was tasty and wholesome, definitely much more delicious than the offerings at home. Besides the great British favourites, like Spam and corned beef, I think the food I experienced in London was exotic because it was diverse andShow MoreRelatedMy Memories - Original Memories907 Words   |  4 PagesMy earliest memories I could think of is when I was probably five years old. That was a year before I started Kindergarten. I was always bored because we didn t have television. We had the radio where we listen to for news, sports, drama series, and even typhoons update. At age five I would wake up before six in the morning because my mother would get so angry if I ever stayed on bed passed six o’clock. I would fix our bed, brush my teeth, and sweep the entire yard. That was my routine every morningRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing1366 Words   |  6 Pagespains forming all across my body, as thoughts of panic rambled through my mind. I anx iously looked around the bare room, illuminated by a single row of light bulbs. My heart began to beat rapidly as I tried to find any object that would spark my remembrance of my location. What am I doing here? Could I be beginning to lose my sanity? Alright stay calm Shannon. Don’t start stressing now; it could just be one of the boys playing a pathetic joke on you. The moment I looked down, my chest began to heaveRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing1328 Words   |  6 PagesEvery night I’m haunted by my worst memory/memories. I’ve been haunted by them for a year and six months. My past ruined me, a relationship ruined me that I stayed in for too long. I was emotionally and physically abused. I’ll hopefully get over it one day eventually, I’m hoping coming out and telling of it will help me get closure and lose the memory of him. I put everything on the line to be with him, I snuck out, I lied, I ruined my relationship with my parents and many other thingsRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing784 Words   |  4 PagesNow, lemme tell you about this one thing I experienced...three years ago. Still haunts my memory. I used to work as a mortician. A person whom works to dissect bodies to either prepare the bodies for an autopsy, or for a burial. Of course, I was only a helper, passing tools. To of which begins my story. Mark Greene was his name. A simple young man of 23 years of age. Nothing too suspicious came up from my interview for the job. He gave reasonable questions. Such as the simple ones, How weakRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing Essay1494 Words   |  6 PagesMy parents can attest to the fact that, even before I could properly spell, I was a writer. Reflecting on my early childhood, I find that most of my memories have some connection to writing. Because I lived tucked in the corner of a minuscule town and was home-schooled, I had no interaction with other children and was quite content to spend my time alone. That time was often passed by writing. Whenever I played with my collection of stuffed animals and dolls, it was always with intention of tellingRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing881 Words   |  4 Pageskid who never wanted to go home. Instead I would spend all my time after school at my friend’s houses until it got dark and I had to be home for bed. My house was never one where you wanted to invite your friends over to. My house was one where you never knew if it was going to be a good night. Or one where you had to tone out the screaming match that my parents were having. Growing up in this type of house was rough. I am thankful that my parents were not physically abusive towards each other orRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing860 Words   |  4 Pagesshould I say was woken up by my dad, for I was only seven years old. Looking back at this point in my life it all is very unclear and fuzzy, still young and naà ¯ve, all the days morph into one. This day however, was unlike any other day. This day is b urned into my memory. My dad, like every single other morning, walked into me and my sister’s bedroom and pulled off the covers from our bed because nothing wakes you up faster than sudden rush of cool air on a November morning. My sister and I trudged toRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing2211 Words   |  9 Pagesopen my eyes I can see the clouds moving through the sky while I lay on the ground. Where am I? I sit on the ground and take a look around me, I’m surrounded by trees for as far as I can see. The cold air reaches my body, forcing me to notice my lack of clothes. What is going on? My head hurts, I can’t seem to remember much. What is my name? My name is Charles, yes, Charles. Who am I? The pain interrupts my thoughts, I feel like it isn’t a good idea to reach for my memoriesRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing1907 Words   |  8 Pagesanother day’ I tried to tell myself. As I shifted in my bed my eyes had begun to close shut again, stunned by the bright sunlight piercing through the curtains. Rubbing my eyes happened to be the natural thing to do when relieving them from the radiant sunlight. Lazily I looked to my left and the picture of my mother caught my attention, as it did everyday. Not only did I miss my mother but the picture had been a token of my innocence and a reminder of my ignorance; I guess that is why it motivates meRead MoreMy Memories - Original Writing Essay2325 Words   |  10 PagesI couldn t believe what had just happened. I kept running, breathing out of control. My feet were sore and my lungs were aching. Tree branches were scraping my arms as I ran past them. Urging myself to keep on going. It was too late to look bac k now. I was running for my freedom and nothing was going to stop me. Not the sharp twigs stabbing at my feet as I ran or the misty fog blocking my clear path ahead. Nothing. It was really going to happen. All I needed to do was make it through the