Once again, I am transported back to those wonderful visits to Uncle Charlie and Aunty Georgie.
To times full of laughter, full of lovely food, of jazz records being played and, if we were lucky, Uncle Charlie would play a few notes on his saxophone (he was in a band when he was younger).
Of the two times I stayed with them for a week, while Mum and Dad were away, one of the things I really enjoyed was spending time outside chatting with Uncle Charlie as he tended his garden. He always took an interest in what you had to say and it didn’t matter how old you were, he listened with great interest, asked sensible questions that did not confuse you and didn’t talk over you.
When I was a small child, I remember Mum used to listen to a daily radio soap opera on BBC 2 called Waggoners’ Walk. Just think of The Archers but set in Hampstead! It ran from 1969 to 1980 and was broadcast in the afternoons. Each episode lasted 15 minutes.
Now, in 1969, I was at primary school and as my school was less than two minutes from my house, I would be home in time to listen to it with Mum and I remember looking forward to the broadcast as I sat in the kitchen with her while she cooked her wonderful food. I didn’t understand a lot of what was said as they covered adult subject matter that a child of my age probably shouldn’t have been allowed to hear but I was fascinated, and it kept me quiet which would have pleased Mum!
What does this have to do with Uncle Charlie? You might be asking.
So, back to that lovely garden.
Listening to Waggoners’ Walk got my imagination going and the chats between the two of us became me making up a soap opera that I would narrate to Uncle Charlie. And because I was there for a week, Uncle Charlie would always ask what happened next, the next day when our chats resumed.
I have no recollection of the names of the characters I made up, where they were based or what the storyline was, I just remember it all making sense in my head and I want to remember that the stories all flowed nicely every day when I would tell him the next instalment. They probably didn’t but that never mattered because that wonderful man never pulled me up on it and was as interested in the next episode as he had been for the first one.
This Blog Belongs To Bint 