I love that I am settling in to write this post on Saturday 4 July – independence day. Today is a special day historically to me – I moved into the place that would be my last ever ‘home alone’ space on the 4th July 2005.
It was a big day: with the help of my friends we painted it and made it a home that I thought I’d live in for years. I really did love it. Little did I know that I’d meet Lovely Bloke just a few months later and that I’d decide to leave it behind – beautifully re painted and decorated for someone else, shortly afterwards! (I don’t think Andy – who was volunteered to paint the ceilings, has forgiven me for that yet – sorry mate…)
My Mum has been to stay with us this week and she told me that whilst she’s very proud of my and my independence she also feels guilt that in many ways, I had to forge my own way in the world. She doesn’t mean materially either – although we were never wealthy, we had everything we ever needed. I was the first person in my family to do A Levels and then, go on to University. My Mum remembers me getting my GCSE results and then being told I needed to be at the Sixth Form that was two buses away, the very next day to register. She said she watched me, working out what to do, with them following behind and me explaining the options and choices to them, with bewilderment.
The same thing happened with University – although my memory is a little different. I remember my mum and dad saying that they would give me as much money as they could and support me however they could and that they did exactly that. My mum worked extra hours to give me money to get by for several years. I cringe now to think of how irresponsible I was with my money – but I suppose that’s part of what learning to be independent is.
My Mum and Dad always wanted me to have independence. That was so important to them. I learnt to swim from an early age – I started when I was ‘nearly 4’ so that they could get it going as early as possible. I went on every ‘outward bound’ retreat going in Primary School – Scafell Pike and were second homes…. I had jobs in the secondary school summer holidays – my Dad bet me that I couldn’t get a job one summer. I said I would. He offered to double whatever I earnt if I did get a job. That proved expensive when I got a job in Greggs the bakers! From there I learnt to drive and a whole new world opened to me when I was 17.
I had a boyfriend – Nick – the coolest, most gorgeous thing I’d ever laid eyes on – from age 15 to 19. Him, coupled with my ability to drive Doris – my 1200 sport ford escort was for me, the point where life got really good. He had to borrow his Mum’s citroen but I had my own car. I was literally Queen of the Road. It’s not surprising really, that I love cars. My Dads was a mechanic and then a Manager of a spares business that looked after all machines with Big Wheels. My first sandpit was made from the huge wheel of a heavy plant machine – my brother and I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. My Maternal Grandad was an engineer who worked at the coalite fixing machines. There’s been fixing and machinery and cars – a love of cars in our lives for as long as I can remember. My Mum and Dad met through a love of cars!
I love that there’s a thread – a love of cars, independence and family throughout my life. I love that my parents wanted independence for me – that they worked so hard to give me a very old car as soon as I passed my test. That they instilled a love of the open road in me from a very early age – I learnt all I know of Tina Turner and Mowtwon from cassette tapes on long drives and still love to drive with them in the car now.
So here’s to independence, a life long love of cars on the part of my parents being passed on to me and love and family being at the heart of my life. Happy fourth of July people!
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