When I was asked to participate in a bloghop for the World Vision #Lostchildhood campaign it got me thinking about my own childhood and how fortunate and carefree it was. That’s a lie, my first thought was bloghop, what the hell is a bloghop (I’m so socially media inept it’s frightening!)
Before I lose you with my own bleary eyed memories, the purpose of this post is to highlight the gulf in differences between our own childhoods and those of youngsters around the world who don’t even know the meaning of the word childhood, let alone share in any of the joys each one should include as a guaranteed minimum entitlement.
As part of the campaign, every £1 donated will be matched by DFID so there really is no better time to donate than today, and it’s dead easy, just follow this link … Word Vision – Single Gifts
The reason I chose the above photos was because it shows the joy and fascination of Luca’s first encounter with a tortoise by the name of Ned.
When I contemplated my own childhood, what immediately sprung to mind was childhood firsts.
When my dad first let me sit on his knee and drive the car across a campsite. Or my first Christmas memory of coming downstairs to a seemingly endless treasure hunt of fabulous toys in different rooms.
Possibly the most poignant though was waking on a Saturday morning to be asked if I wanted to go and see my beloved Man City for the first time. This simple question led to an avalanche of memories that still feel like they were only yesterday (before anyone feels it necessary to comment, yes I know it was thirty years ago!)
The excitement of being swept along by the sea of blue scarves towards the ground.
The smell and taste of the pre-match burger (which until now I did keep as our secret, sorry mum).
The combination of amazement, pride, and vertigo as I reached the top of the steps and the sheer scale of the stadium took away what little breath I had remaining.
Sitting on my dads shoulders and missing the players emerge from the tunnel in order to see where the spine tingling chorus of singing was coming from.
Seeing my dad jump around with wild abandonment as the first goal went in, and the second, third, and fourth that followed.
The pride of seeing him sing with all his heart, arms aloft, to a tune I’d never heard before but definately included the words ‘city’ and ‘Maine road’.
And then the mild panic as I got swept down the steepest steps I’d ever seen (I say seen, I didn’t see a single step but with my dads arms tightly clamped around my chest I could see the evening sunset rising higher as I was most definately moving lower).
Now I find myself playing the role of dad, and on so many occasions my own happy memories of childhood are re-visted when I see our boys faces light up with a smile that threatens to stretch beyond their small faces. It also reminds me how much I now appreciate the love and dedication bestowed on me by my mum and dad in order for my childhood to have been so amazing and wonderful; and how if I can show just a fraction of that commitment to our boys then I can sleep easy in the knowledge they’ll grow up having similarly happy childhoods full of smiles and laughter.
Anyway, I think I’ve wittered on long enough, so if I understand the mechanics of a bloghop (which I possibly don’t) then I think the idea is that I now suggest a couple of other blogs to participate. Seeing as my two lovely sisters played a part in so many of my happiest memories (and the fact they both blog, and have far greater readerships than I do) I’ve asked them to play along…
Their blogs are:-
Chipper Nelly – www.chippernelly.blogspot.co.uk
Not Just Nelly – www.notjustnelly.blogspot.co.uk
If I’ve done everything right then the bloghop should appear by magic here…. Da Dah….