Shouldn’t page 3 have boobs on it?
I’m gonna assume that the first two pages of my autobiography will cover birth. I think by the time I get to the third page this would be at my first home at Grebe Avenue in St. Helens. I was three years old when I left there but can still remember certain things about the house.
I can remember the bedroom that I shared with my brother and I can remember that my parents’ room was across the landing by the stairs. The stairs themselves were wooden and ended in the living room that had a sofa against the main wall and two smaller chairs by the window. Opposite the sofa was a coffee table with a TV against the opposite wall.
You could leave the living room into a dining room and then round to the kitchen which led outdoors to the garden in which the neighbours dog nearly hanged itself.
While I’ve been told about the dog as a story, I can actually remember one event from that house, only I’m not sure what it was. I remember opening a present, being assisted in opening the paper, to find a teddy bear (teddy bunny? It was a rabbit) hidden beneath. If things are worth remembering, I guess they’re probably a big deal. I can still remember my first day at school (meeting James Bills), my first kiss (a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell), the first football match I went to (Liverpool v Spartak Moscow – we lost), the first proper football boots I bought (Mitre Mundial), the first thing I bought with my first proper pay cheque (Guns ‘n Roses Greatest Hits)… My two or three year old must have thought that bunny was amazing.
(I’m now wondering if I can do a clever link between cuddly bunny, Playboy and the aforementioned boobs to round out the post. Possibly shouldn’t!)
All the crazy shit I did tonight –
Those would be the best memories.
I just wanna let it go for the night.
That would be the best therapy for me.
Memories by David Guetta