His first baby memory- Godfrey has gotten loose from a family gathering and is crawling,dragging a soggy nappy behind he explores the wet garden.He smells the soil ;feels prickly stalks ,he even eats a rather bitter, nasty tasting bug.
Pushing himself to his feet in the rubarb and clutching a parsnip he has up rooted,he sees out to the rim of the world.Little boats at sunset are chugging homeward on a pastel sea.Godfrey points and laughs,delighted. Then comes a mighty blow to the back of his head and he is air born, landing so hard, face in the dirt he is too shocked to cry out…He never forgets the face of his Uncle Lou sneering down at him.
..He is now an odd looking skinny four year old in gumboots and short pants. He is wearing his beloved horse sweater already a bit tatty at the cuffs. In his arms Godfrey holds a large Siamese cat.Normally bold;the Siamese’s sapphire blue eyes are wary, her pensive tail hangs to Godfrey’s knees,as he carries her up the walk to their new home
.He is now a sturdy,somewhat cheeky 8 year old and is holding the strong warm hand of his Grandmother.He has located her in the smoke and salt of the Pub and is walking her home.He carries her shoes ,discarded in a corner for the purpose of dancing.It is late on an Autumn night,but he has done this before,he has no fear of things in the fog or the dank lugubrious streets. As they walk up the hill to Grandma’s terraced house, they sing together raucously,being yelled at to shut up cannot quiet Godfrey or his beloved Granny.And a big mug of tea and a cream bun wait at home just for Godfrey…all his life these were just some of the things he carried. BYE BEATRICE.