This post could also easily have been entitled “Why I’ve had nursery rhymes going round and round in my head for the last few days”. But that’s a bit of a long title. And it has nothing to do with television.
At the weekend we found ourselves in Paignton, staying overnight with my parents. It’s not the house I grew up in, but it’s a home from home I’ve learned to love. ‘Home’, for me, will always be Watcombe Park, in that cosy little 3 bedroom house with the back garden that flooded when it rained and the front garden with the rose bush at the end of the path (but that’s another story). A great many happy memories were generated in that house, from my earliest childhood memories through to leaving home for university. And now, nearly 25 years on, with a youngun growing fast, I’m conscious that everything we do has an impact in some way, even if he is only 11 weeks old. Memories are being made, and as a father I have a duty to ensure that they are good memories.
And so, on this somewhat spontaneous visit, I decided it would be a good opportunity to reclaim a few cassette tapes from my youth, to give Samuel something to listen to. Or, as the case may be, for me to sing along to until such a time as he can join in.
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