The Early Years

Write page three of your autobiography.

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

Comments 3

    • Hi Judy! The story goes that the neighbours had a little terrier type dog that could jump / climb / run up fences. He used to do this to come to “play” with our dog. By all accounts, to stop him doing this the neighbours tied him up but the leash he was on was long enough to still do one and a half sides of fence, which means he didn’t quite make it down the other side. He was found and rescued. I believe he suffered no ill effects and never tried the feet again.

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