No, to be honest, I forgot about being a vet a long time ago and the book I found, Vet in Harness, did little to bring back the memory of ever wanting to be one. Instead, it reminded me of Christmases past because that's when I would have got it as a present (and many others in the series) and the memory of me sitting in an armchair by the roaring fire in the sitting room (only ever lit at Christmas), riveted to it, remains a fond one. And, of course, thinking of that set a ghost train of other Christmas memories in motion and before I knew it, images of old cameras and slide projectors and Cluedos and Frustrations and deoderant sets and leather footballs and crap records and rollerball pens and digital watches came to mind - and thus we have yet another mood board for you all to add to or subtract from!
When I look at some of the bigger presents that Santy brought all those years ago, I suppose, they probably do contain clues to the sort of ideas and ambitions I was harbouring for myself back then. It was no fluke, for example, that I got as 'big' presents, a camera one year and a slide projector another, because back then I saw myself as a budding photographer and I had real ambitions to one day rise to the professional challenge - that was until some point in time when I had to acknowledge that I didn't really have what it took. The other presents might contain clues too, clues about other roads I could have taken and about other things I had in mind to do or be. Though I'll never know for sure, maybe these other great gifts were indicative of pursuits in life that I wouldn't have minded taking a bit further - like being a rock star, a weightlifter, a detective, a professional footballer, a perfumist, a computer programmer, a professional gambler, a strategist and, as denoted by the Parker Pen, a writer. Hmmm, I'm even wondering now did that pen play any part in my opting to go the hack's route? Meh! It's impossible to tell from this juncture because, in the meantime, life went and diluted the direct influences and muddied the proverbial waters. But still, the very presence of that pen perched in its box back there in the distant past might mean that the seeds were sown that far back. And I'm sure it must be similar for you. The clues to how your own future would pan out might well be concealed there somewhere among the bric-a-brac of all your own Christmases past and in the presents that they brought. To your present. Might be worth a look back!
More soon ...
Re: fire only lit at Christmas. It amazes me still that we all lived in humble abodes with large families and yet most had rooms that were not used other than when guests called or indeed Christmas.
ReplyDeleteOurs was lit on Sundays too. It took two of us to lift the telly into the front room in time for Bilko and a cup of cabbage water. I think you harboured more ambitions than me Shay. Used to think I'd be a teacher until I went to secondary and despised half of them. I'd have needed Billys Boots to be a footballer (& cricketer in the summer).
ReplyDeleteProf Plum in the Kitchen with the lead piping!! I got a new football every year and a set of biros and pencils with my name printed in bold. Don't know what that says about me. Shag all, I suspect.
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