I like to fall asleep at night thinking of nice things. This could mean anything from rekindling images of fish eagles swooping down to catch their supper in the Chobe river, to images of Grandma mixing up her words after a couple of glasses of wine..................(she's anybody's after 3 glasses!)

Last night, for some unknown reason, I fell asleep thinking about things from my childhood. What was really very strange - weird even - was that for so long, I've been tormented by things from my days as a kid that have caused me a great deal of pain & anguish. I honestly cannot remember when I last thought of some of the following things, which are really happy memories ...............

One of my earliest memories as a sprog was being in hospital to have my tonsils out. I was 4yrs old. I don't remember the actual operation or any of the pain associated with it, which is a good thing I s'pose. What I do remember tho' is sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed & trying to explain to a black nurse that I needed to go to the toilet. I remember her being black & I remember her not understanding neither me nor my request for a toilet. She brought some toys to my bed. I didn't want toys. I told her again - "toilet!" & I remember wondering why this black lady couldn't understand me? (Altho' I hail from a small Kentish village, this nurse wasn't the first black person I'd been in contact with.) I don't recall what the outcome of the situation was, but do remember crying............awwwww!

My mum took me to Sevenoaks hospital on more than one occasion, for swallowing money. I have no idea why I chose to eat threepenny bits, but do remember thinking it was fun to have an x-ray taken of my tummy, cos it showed where the coin was! The doctor told mum to "just let nature take its course" & mum in turn told me to keep my eye out for anything that resembled a coin after I'd taken a dump!

My best mate was called - nicknamed rather - Bumpscrub. She lived 2 doors down from me & we did a whole heap of things together as young 'uns. Sometimes it would involve pushing one another into Aunty Page's garden, which was full of stinging nettles. For whatever reason, sometimes me & Bumpscrub would fight. This would involve mighty wallops & kicks & the prized trophy of a chunk of hair that had been pulled out! There would be snot 'n tears, but within a day or two, all would be forgiven & we'd take off to create some serious mischief. In summer, we would go down to a nearby stream (the river Darenth) & catch stickleback fish with an old jam jar. If we felt really really brave, we would venture under the bridge, but I can't recall us doing that too often, cos it was pretty scary!

I remember the unique sound of my Grandie's BSA 650cc Super Road Rocket. Within seconds of him leaving his home, which was just over a mile away, I could tell he was on his way to us. I knew that sound without a moments hesitation & I could tell how far along the road he was by his changing gears. He would pull up just outside our house & he'd have a bundle of fresh, home grown vegetables for us. After the normal cup of tea & chat with mum & dad, he would take me & my brother for a spin on the Beezer. There would always be an argument as to who would go first. No crash helmets, no 'safety gear', nothing, except the clothes I had on & sometimes that would still be my jarmies. I'd hold on to Grandie & have the absolute time of my life!

I think my brother was 8yrs old when he was allowed to take the Beezer for a ride by himself, always under the instruction of "don't go too bloody fast either!". I don't actually remember my brother taking me as a passenger, but I'm sure he must have at some stage.

I remember my primary school music teacher - Mrs Ward. She was such a lovely lady. She had a growth of some kind on her head & she would always ask us kids to please tell us when her 'bump' was showing, so that she could quickly rearrange her hair to cover it up. She taught English as well & I can remember asking her for homework, because I enjoyed her lessons so much!

I think I was always last on the school register, cos my surname began with W.

I remember playing leapfrog over the Keep Left sign on the roundabout outside our house. My dad made me stilts & I could stay on them for hours. Dad also made us taboggens which were the envy of many a kid in the village. I can remember the number plate of my dads car - TLP 51. I can remember the name of the neighbours dog that bit me - Casper. I can remember walking for hours along the old railway line, either picking blackberries, or primroses & bluebells - depending on the season. I can remember the smell of the polish I'd use for Grandies motorbike, the smell of his pipe tobacco, the smell of sweetpea flowers & the most amazing roses from his garden. I can remember waking up to the sound of Jim Reeves, Hank Williams or Engelbert Humperdink on a Sunday morning & toasting thick slices of bread, on a homemade fork from a coathanger at Uncle ben's house down the Weald................

It's been so nice for me to write this out.............if only I could remember who I was & where I am :-D