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Home <> Lifestory Library <> Pick of The Week <> The innocence of youth




  Contributor: Mark ClaysonView/Add comments



Mark Clayson was born in 1960, born and bred at Harwich in Essex.

The innocence of youth becomes stronger as the years go by. Somehow, days were longer and warmer when I was young. Rain was a pleasure, snow always welcomed. It was never too cold to wear a coat, well almost never.

Living by the sea had its attractions. It was never too rough or too chilly to swim. I could never understand why my parents sat on the sand waving at me as I swam and jumped the waves on a cold April afternoon. Come to think of it, they NEVER came into the water.

Being young had the quality of never understanding another person's point of view. It was my belief that my parents had foregone youth. To this day, although they are both sadly dead, I can never imagine them as children. Running through the fields, building camps, 'scrumping'. They were always so serious and content with making my life as difficult as possible.

We always used to leave the key in the latch. The kids could come and go as they pleased. We never considered that someone might steal it. My mum left the rent book on the stairs just inside the front door for the rent man to collect every fortnight. He wouldn't knock to sound his arrival, there was no need.

Then there were the regular coal deliveries. And the Corona lorry when we would run out with our empty bottles -- vying for the 5 pence deposit. The quaintness of the 6-monthly visit from the chimney sweep contrasts sharply with the current view of getting as far away from coke as possible. The dirt and the dust would not generally be tolerated these days. Neither would the inconvenience.

We happily entered other people's houses. There was no fear of sexual abuse, abduction or trauma of any kind. Perhaps we were naive. Perhaps overly so. But we felt safe. I had never come across drugs until I was well into my 20s.

Now it is I who am misunderstood. As I sit on the sand waving. As I lecture my children about the ways of the world. As I disregard freedom in the pursuit of safety. Time goes full circle.

Mark Clayson, Staffordshire, 2002
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