I remember Nelly Crabtree, who had flowers in her tiny garden and hair like freshly-fallen snow.
I remember George, who called me Curly and liked to pick me up.
I remember how I screamed to be put down.
I remember Norman and his ornaments.
I remember the campers, who turned up for a brew in the morning and didn’t leave until gone tea time.
I remember Tracy and her Pierrot wallpaper.
I remember John, who could touch the tip of his nose with his tongue.
I remember Helen’s birthday party, when she played the organ.
I remember bouncing a ball against a wall.
I remember the boys from the sweet shop.
I remember kissing a boy from the sweet shop against the wall I bounced the ball on.
I remember the old lady round the backs, who assessed the length of my leg from ankle to knee.
I remember she told me I would be tall one day.
I remember when they told me we were leaving, for a better house on a better street, just five minutes walk away.
I remember the neighbour who said, ‘you won’t speak to us again once you move down there.’
I remember thinking very hard about that.
I remember taking it as a truth.