The somewhat brisk sour smell from the fields joins just for the ride. Looking across once more, the once sleeping families are now running around there houses getting reading for the days challenges. Now the once threatening dark clouds have been cleaned by the warm summers breeze, which allows the suns piercing rays to hit the deck of the boat. The golden rays of light strike the bogy coloured water and reflecting it into your eyes.
Being on a boat, there is a great sense of tranquillity as I sit down peacefully at the front of the boat.
Suddenly I arise from my little daydream and start to try to handle my task of fixing my damaged computer. But to no avail and it has accomplished is frustrating me and leaving me with a need to destroy all computers in site. Instead I choose to work on re-sorting my muddled photographs. During this I come across some of past school, friends, holidays and other things you would expect to find.
Then among the pilling lies the first picture I’ve seen of my cousin since the time of his death. Painful memories are re-awoken inside of my head, as I look deeper into his face of joy and happiness. He pasted away at the age of only 55 after a triadic accident and he was crushed to death. He left be hide his elderly mother who is now well into her 80s. I look at my watch and remember I have to go to town. I grab my coat and head off, returning not long after with some new school equipment, which I greatly needed. As I arrive home I move in for the kill and sit down to interview my dad Mr.Peter Stewart. He 66 and is semi-retired from his job which is a local solicitor, and has been for over 30 years. He has recently become a member of the MCC. I chose to use two topics to talk about. Firstly some great memories from his childhood, and secondly his person views on fox hunting.
His first answer from that is WWII. I jump to the occasion and start to ask some continues questions. The first thing he tells me is about his ‘Anderson’, his mother tired to make it look nice by putting a carpet in it but it didn’t last as it quickly became smelly and damp. But luck for him he didn’t have to use after 10weeks apart from when they wanted to play games in it. Instead of that they live under the stairs. During the nights they could often hear the destructive sound of the German bombs. As he looked out he good see the flashes in the sky. Since he was young he found it all very exciting unlike his parents. His father was often away at work and frequency was on ‘Fire Watching’ at the Bristol docks. His mother was always feeling very sorry for him because his eyes were always a blood shot red after it, which she had assumed that it was from the smoke. But later they all found out that he had been playing cards and drinking through most of the nights. I now change the subject to school life and how it was from him. He enjoyed his stay at school. He found it interesting to say the least.
When the school alarm sounded, everyone would have to go under the church into the Crypt, which was very close. Even during church services they all had to go under and wait for them to finish. I quickly wanted to learn more about the air raids at Bristol so I let him carry on with this little topic. There were a great deal of shops and houses damaged or just totally wiped from the road. As a child he enjoyed to play with his brother on the bombsites, in the huge craters that were left. Now he looks back he realises how worried people. The best part of the war for him was when the American Soldiers arrived in Bristol and the rest of the UK. They were all very generous; they handed out sweets, tobacco to chew and bullets. Every day he would get him to see them all in the streets with there families, which they were staying with. They let everyone play with there guns, which was fun. But then one morning they had all gone (June 1944) and the whole of Bristol seemed totally different. Then I thought that we could move onto the over topic in hand, his views on Fox hunting. Over all they are very mixed views regarding fox hunting. His deceased partner was a regular for fox hunting and that he saw that they hardly ever cached a fox. He hates the idea when they kill the cubs of the fox so that comes out. But after seeing the destruction of the fox it doesn’t slip his mind. After owning his own chickens for many years he has witnessed the savoury of the foxes. I brought our interview to a close there and thanked my dad for it.
As I return to my room I glazed in wonder at my possessions, and think what have they done for me I ask myself? They have brought me laughter is the only response that I know. I’ve been recently been thinking about a career I might want. Too follow in my father’s footsteps or find something that will be a greater challenge. And what to do after my GCSE’s. To get out of school while I can or just try to stick it out for 3 more years. Only time will tell is the only answer which hits me. I turn around and look in greater detail at my room for once and realise how many things there are about my room that I’ve there noticed.
The room has been coloured to my mum’s perfection. From a soft gentle sky blue to a sunny golden orange. In the mists of the mornings, the speckled rays of light directly aim for my eyes and blind me for a slit second. Each of the four walls has it own problem with it. Either it has had constant knocks to it that has led to the paint being knocked off or it’s covered it dirty black muddy handprints. Each bed has turned from neat and tidy to a resemblance of stumbled old pieces of paper. The view from my bed gives me a perfect view of the clearer picture of the TV, which I take full advantage of during the night. Adjacent to the bed lies a Victorian Setae, which had the job of taking care of my dirty, messy clothes at the end of the days. Looking blankly at the ceiling, I’m able to see the old remains of decoration from Christmases passed which have been torn of with a great force.
Looking around this room, I feel at sense of alienation, as I hear nothing in the close of a spring day. Scattered dirt cups have been carefully place around the room for safekeeping. The curtains have been made from old sheets that have seen better days. I love this little room, it seems to be like me a mess sometimes but other times perfectly tidy and carm.
As another day has passed for me and the other 6 billion, I begin to dwell in my own thoughts . What a great thing life truly is. That we have been given the ability to create life but at the same time the ability to take away life. The slightly closed curtain lets me look deep into the night sky. Shinning from billions of years away the stars, the amazement of space. The prospect of life itself on other worlds, that one we may meet or might meet us.
By Robin Stewart 4S