memories

One of the best ways to explore your experiences is to write about them. Writing helps you to think more clearly, openly and deeply about a subject. One of the reasons for this is the simple fact that - while you may feel like 'you know what you mean' - the first thing a writer needs to be is intelligible.
You're beyond excited that Nineties fashion is 'in' again and discover there is the wardrobe of a Shoreditch hipster stashed in your loft. You knew one day you'd be glad you hung on to that satin slip dress from Snob and those Dr Marten's cherry reds.
One day children who have been in our care will ask questions about their past that simply cannot be answered in a memory book. Above all, we hope that they understand that they were loved and cherished. And we hope that they know that they can come to us for those elusive answers. We are, after all, merely custodians of their memories.
There are certain wonderful memories that stick firmly in my mind and one particular occasion always makes me smile. Some years ago, my parents-in-law were staying with us during a particularly wet winter.
In this modern age we expect and want everything right now. Not after your suntan has faded, slightly gnarled through the postbox, from a trip that you took over two months ago. The rising cost of stamps, too slow snail mail and instant digital information are all affecting these little cards lives.
It's a strange old sensation watching your retired, aging parents clearing out their house, painfully filling endless boxes for the charity shop and the local recycling centre with the ever-eclectic mix of objects that have come to define who they are.
A recent house move has necessitated a ruthless clean out of those old boxes lurking under stairs and in the loft and which contain memories of a past long gone. My dream of living in a very small space is about to become a reality but more on that later.
We've all had the desire to erase bad memories - the ones that keep coming back and we can't seem to get rid of them. Soon
These memories of days at the seaside as children are part of our national DNA. Millions of Brits head to the coast every year. And there is a rich social history of the connections between the big cities and the nearest stretch of coastline.
I am today a much different person to that child. In some respects I would like to tell him it will be alright and deal with it for him, in others I am glad it has made me the man I am today. I honestly have to be hard pushed to fear anyone so it certainly did one thing for me, it built character.