Now that I have reached the grand old age of 20 I feel as if I should have achieved the organizational credentials of being an adult. New modules colour coded with individual highlighted titles, accompanied with the exact same colour defining folder. As I sit here admiring my procrastinated work I am transported back to the last week of the August holidays, when W.H. Smiths would be chock-a-block full of new Bic pens, neon coloured highlighters, plastic triangle things that you never had a clue what were for and the obvious new pencil case that had to be purchased every new academic year.
As a child however, there was nothing more satisfying than the purposeful application of PVA glue to your fingers and then peeling it off. While PVA glue never had any use but to persistently destroy paper, now as an “adult” I actually found a use for it in the form of fixing certain wrecked items in my unequipped student home. With the back of a dining room chair completely severed off I got to work administering the PVA (why I had not thought of super glue is beyond me). But quite possibly the excitement of being able to apply the glue once again to my hands and rip off the dried solvent in one whole go was too much to contain.
“ There was nothing more satisfying than the purposeful application of PVA glue to your fingers and then peeling it off”
However, nothing can bring back juvenile memories like those of childhood foods. While adult sophistication may have increased my acceptance of vegetables, and the swapping of the yellow potato for one that is orange and sweet has become day-to-day life, my 11-year-old self is shaking her head in disbelief. The pre-teenage me would stand in utter awe at the magical moment when radioactive looking pink dust would be mixed with milk to create the strawberry Angel Delight sensation. Or the combination of raspberry jelly and ice cream topped with hundreds and thousands plated in a plastic bowl. Or the sickeningly vibrant trays in which assembled school dinners of fish fingers, smiley faces and peas. With pudding in the separate compartment, lumpy custard that you believed had sweet corn in it, but it was in fact just lumps, was dolloped over your spotted dick.
“On the rare chance that torrential snow/wind/rain meant indoor play commence, you may just have to play... MASH”
Attending primary school “North of the Wall” meant that you were almost always subjected to playtime outdoors- in the complete unknown weather of the Yorkshire countryside. However on the rare chance that torrential snow/wind/rain meant indoor play commence, you may just have that chance to play every girls secret fantasy: the all important MASH game. Mansion, apartment, shed, house, boys, car, city, job- the choice was yours. And while some of you maybe throwing some 90’s moves out at Throwback, I, however am enraptured by the early years of school discos. Busted, McFly and S Club 7 all send me into a rhapsody of childhood memories. Standing in the middle of the dance floor with my hair in pigtails that my mum had some how mastered, sprayed with aerosol glitter, with a gleaming silver skirt and an attempt at some form of lip-gloss, I was ready to reach for the stars. These were the memories of ‘00 kid born in the late 90’s and no matter how much I try to believe I am some form of “adult”, the days of MSN still haunt me.
1 We were slightly too young to fully appreciate the Fresh Prince- we’ll leave that our proper nineties predecessors, but I did watch it every night without fail for the rap at the start... and because it was shown straight after The Simpsons.
2 Back in Primary School was really where you learnt respect for your elders. Humiliation- they were masters. Talking whilst queueing to go into your classroom? Stand in front of all your classmates for a few minutes and that will sort you out.
3 Relating to this, how weird is it that we used to queue for EVERYTHING; dinner, end of break, start of break, fire drills... I suppose for us Brits queueing does go hand in hand with learning mental maths.