A Day to Remember

Hello everybody!1

This is the part of the tale when I say who I am and that this is all true because it's what happened to me one day on the way home from school.2

Well I can't say that exactly because it's nearly fifty years since that day and I've gone over it so many times in my head I've sort of polished it over the years and I might have smoothed away some parts and scratched in others as time's gone by. So you'll have to trust me that I'm trying to remember and tell it true. The main bit's true enough but some of the edges I won't swear to.
Right?
OK. Here goes.
My name's Jim and I was brought up in Yorkshire. I had a dad who worked hard and a mum who stayed home to look after me and my brothers. There's five lads now but there were only four then and one of them was still in his pram.
We lived in a house on a big estate. Now that doesn't mean we were rich and there was lots of land and green
fields. This was a council housing estate and it were full of folk like us. Some had a bit more cash and some a bit less but we all knew each other and got on most of the time. Except for them at number 12 but that's a different story.
When I woke up there was nothing to say that the day was going to be anything special. It was just one day like all the rest, not Christmas or a birthday or anything like that. Just an ordinary day with all my chores and school and everything to look forward to.
I was first up as usual and I went down stairs to rake out the grate and lay the fire ready for mum to light when she came down. I shovelled all the cold ashes into a bucket and broke open a bundle of firewood from a box under the kitchen sink. I only used half a dozen sticks stuck up like a wigwam and in the gaps I put coils of newspaper. I would open the paper and separate each sheet, then I'd take a single page and starting in one corner I'd start rolling it up tight until I had a long thin tube and then I'd get the edges and tie it into knots like a pretzel only I'd never heard of a pretzel in those days. I had to roll it up really tight and put the knots in the middle to stop it unrolling and then put it into the grate under and around my wooden wigwam, making sure the ends were at the front where mum could touch them with a match to get it going. When I'd got the wood and paper just right I'd add a few small cobs of coal over the middle so they'd warm up when the wood burned and make the proper fire. I always left one sheet of paper folded up on the rug in front of the fire so mum could use it to block the hearth and make the wind roar up the chimney and draw the fire. Then I'd tidy up the bits and pieces and take them with the ash bucket to the back door.
Once I'd done all this I went back upstairs to get washed and dressed because I was still in my pyjamas. When I went to the bathroom I'd bang on mum and dad's bedroom door to let them now it was time but usually they were already getting up.
Usually when I finished washing and unbolted the door there were my two brothers hopping around and arguing over who would be next in to get washed and, more important, use the toilet. I went back into our shared bedroom to get my school clothes on. They were always there, nice and clean but not always tidy because they were far from new. My big brothers had gone to the same school I was now going to and, instead of buying new uniforms for each of us the clothes were passed down the line as one of them grew too big for it. Except for the jumpers. Mum used to knit those herself and they were great but that meant we lads always had them on and they got worn out quicker than the rest so we usually had our own knit specially for us.
After I'd got dressed I'd go down for breakfast. That was always cornflakes and tea during the week. We'd pour the milk from a big jug kept in the kitchen cabinet. Another of my jobs was to keep this full. I'd carefully lever the top of a bottle of model milk with the bottle opener which was kept on a hook on the side of the cabinet, inside just near the jug, then I'd pour the milk into the jug and take the bottle to the tap and fill it up with cold water up as far as the writing on the side which was about two thirds full. Then I'd pour this water into the jug as well and stir it up properly so you couldn't tell it wasn't all milk. Then I took the bottle back to the sink and carefully rinsed it out and put it with any other empties. There was a penny back on the glass bottles in those days so recycling was automatic.
Once breakfast was finished and the pots taken to the kitchen I'd get my satchel which was ready from the night before, slip on my blazer and school cap and I was ready for off. Mum always had to give us lads a quick look to make sure we were smart and clean and we washed behind our ears and everything then a quick kiss and I was off. School was about a mile away but I always left half an hour before school just to make sure I was on time. There were two short cuts across the recs. That was short for recreation grounds but really they were only bits of uneven, open land between and behind the houses.
There was not so much pressure for houses then and the builders could afford to leave these empty pockets of 4 or 5 acres each for us kids to play on.
Sometimes I'd meet up with other kids on the way to school but there was no special group or gang so it was unpredictable. That day, just like all the others I got to school in good time. I probably used the outside toilets in the playground as usual and lined up with everyone else ready for the morning bell. That wasn't the unusual part of that special day.3