Tuesday, 17 September 2013

Dedicated to Trevor

On Sunday I enjoyed a lovely afternoon with my dear Mum, and while we sat eating cakes and drinking coffee she handed me a pile of old notebooks. When I looked closer, I saw that my name was written on the covers. They were my old school books, both from England and from Australia, and she had kept them all these years.

Some had been damaged over time while in storage but most were thankfully salvaged. What a complete joy it was to sit with my Mum and my husband and daughter, sharing a hearty laugh over my handwriting, my spelling test results, teachers comments and especially my drawings and doodles. There were projects on Japan and Holland and reflective writing exercises about my holiays, along with many coloured-in pictures. How strange it felt to sit down and read those when my daughter has been doing the exact same thing at school, writing reflective pieces and drawing pictures to complement the story.

One such story which struck a chord with me was the one I wrote, titled:

My Two Days Holiday

On Thursday I went to my friends house for a little while. Then I went home with Mummy and Norman. I stayed up until 10 o'clock because I watched The Six Million Dollar Woman. And then I went to bed and read and wrote some letters until 10 to 10.
On Friday I went to work like I did Thursday morning and took my teaset and my doll and I played with my friend Trevor. He was Daddy and I was Mummy and my doll was baby. We played in the ballroom where ladies and gentlemen go in there for meetings and so on. 
When it was home time which is 12 o'clock Trevor and Mummy and me went home. When we got home we all had some dinner at 1 o'clock. Then we went outside playing with Josie our dog. Then at half past 3 we took Trevor back to the Kings Head and then did some shopping. Then we went home and had some tea. Then Grandad and we watched Gambit at 7 o'clock and had a cup of tea. Then Grandad went and I stayed up until half past 8.

Trevor and me

Trevor's life was tragically and painfully cut short when he became terminally ill in his late teens. Before he reached his twenty-third birthday he had passed away. I went to visit him shortly before he died, and we had some laughs together about the "old days" when we played at the Kings Head Hotel in Beccles (Trevor's Mum and my Mum both worked there as chambermaids and that was how Trevor and I became friends). We used to fight like mad some days and he followed me around a lot which used to irritate me, especially if I just wanted to go off wandering around by myself. I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams that my childhood friend's life would be cut short in such terrible circumstances.

I have written a novella which I have dedicated to my childhood friend Trevor and he also makes a very special posthumous cameo appearance as one of my characters.

Trevor with his beloved dog

Trevor's grave, 1993

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