At the start of our lives, we view the world through rose coloured glasses. As we grow older and start viewing life from our own perspective, we rebel.
My first rebellious hissy fit was about the clothes my mother was so intent on dressing me in. She battled long and hard to turn me into a girly girl, but it was to no end. I was already traumatised by flamboyant hair accessories and rag curls and could bear it no longer.
Whatever is instilled in us as children, we take with us into adulthood; the good and the bad and periodically they come back to haunt us. My hair always remained the focus of arguments between my mother and I, long after she gave up lambasting my wardrobe and until the day she died. My hair now? It’s as straight as my genes intended.
I may tell myself that what has gone, has gone and that I should be focussing on the now more, but there are some memories, good and bad, that can never fade and it’s important to me that I serve them up coated in a little humour. Here are some of them…