My Favourite Childhood Memory: Cornwall with Mum
The raucous scream of gulls, wheeling overhead, fighting over scraps of left-over sandy picnics. Well, that’s what I first thought of when I thought about “My Favourite Childhood Memory”, but then I realised that memories are very much like when someone asks you what your favourite song is.
For me, that depends on what mood I’m in, where I am, even what time of day it is. And it’s the same with memories, I think. I also have memories that are triggered by different things – smells, sounds, views, certain words, a particular piece of road or someone’s accent. Lots of memories are about feelings rather than an event or place. However, all of my favourite childhood memories involve my Mum.
I grew up in Cornwall near Gwithian beach. Summers back then, like most people feel about their childhood summers, lasted longer, were hotter and packed full of days outside. We never, ever stayed indoors and watched TV – what a waste of a day! I genuinely have no indoor memories apart from Christmases.
One of the good things about Cornwall in the 70’s is that there was barely any traffic. It was much easier to get around than it is now. You didn’t have to plan days in advance and avoid roads at the weekend like the plague. My father worked in Truro and during the summer, if he managed to sneak away from work early, he and my mother would pick my two sisters and I up from school in the car. They would have all of our beach stuff with them so we could go straight to the beach. We’d struggle and wriggle into our swimsuits in the back of the car, sharp elbows and knees everywhere and usually a fair number of bruises, so that we could get straight into the sea when we arrived. No seatbelts in the back was normal back then.
My mum was great at packing for the beach. There would be a towel to stand on, a towel for your hair and a towel to dry yourself with. Absolute luxury. She would also make the most amazing concoctions for our picnics. Whilst all the other family groups were eating a sand filled sandwich, face like a slapped arse as they crunched their way through them, my mother would pull out a cream and mandarin covered ginger cake, bowls of strawberries, chicken legs and all manner of delicious things. We did get some rather envious looks to say the least.
When we had been on the beach all day and you packed everything up ready to leave - shaking the sand off towels and getting shouted at for shaking them too close to your sister and getting sand in her eye – we’d then have the trek back up the steep cliff steps to the carpark. At that time of day having been in the sea and sun for hours, we were all dog-tired and sleepy from the heat.
You’d have that slight chill to you that you get when you’ve got a touch of sunburn and you’d have your shorts and sandals and one of mum’s hand-knitted jumpers on, everything full of sand and that rough salty feel on your skin from the sea. We would always stop at the top of cliffs to watch the sunset and we always listened for the hiss as the sun touched the water on the horizon. Everyone used to swear that they’d heard it and me, being the youngest, always thought that they had and I had missed it, again.
The majority of my favourite memories are related to wildlife sightings when out walking with my mother. We would go out every weekend, leaving the house by 8am, either walking from the house or getting my dad to drop us off somewhere on the north cliff coast path. We’d walk all day and from sharing these magical days with her, I got my love of nature and the outdoors.
We saw some fabulous things - stoats fighting, screaming at each other and so intent on what they were doing that they didn’t see us until they were less than 5 feet away, whereupon they stopped dead, looked at each other, back at us, and then turned tail and ran. An ermine [a stoat in its winter coat], incredibly rare to see so far south, chasing its tail and playing on a little hillock on the dunes. At first we thought it was a paper bag blowing about. It is one of the best, most exciting things I have ever seen. Foxes, sitting completely still, waiting to see whether we would spot them and then disappearing without a trace in two steps when they knew they’d been rumbled. Kestrels hovering without any visible effort, dropping to the ground like a stone to catch some poor, unsuspecting mouse, merrily minding their own business but now someone’s breakfast.
If I had to pick one single memory from the hundreds of walks with my mother, it would be the day that we were walking along a typical Cornish lane with high hedges on each side. There was a hole in the hedge bank, about 4 inches across. Mum picked up a stick off the ground and said “I wonder how far this goes in?” and put the stick in the hole. Two seconds later, she nearly had a heart attack. Something in the hole grabbed the end of the stick and gave it a hearty pull. I have never to this day seen anyone look more surprised. She dropped the stick as if it was on fire.
I love now being able to share my love of nature with my daughter. From me, she has learned to constantly be looking to see what is just outside of the normal line of vision and can spot a buzzard, or deer, or hare that most people wouldn’t ever notice was there. I hope that one day when someone asks her what her favourite childhood memories are, they will involve walking with me, spotting wildlife and just loving being out in our amazing countryside.
Written by Sarah-Jane
Sarah-Jane lives in Bridgwater, Somerset with her dog, Daphne and her partner, Simon. She loves walking and nature and volunteers for WWT at Steart Marshes. She also loves crafting and wishes she was actually Kirstie Allsopp (and had her frock collection).
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