I dont know if im missing the point of this journal, but i thought i should perhaps give it a try....
Yesterday i was on the 319 to Streatham when i recognised the girl sitting opposite me. She had tatty blond-ish hair and little scabs on her face from spots that she had attacked all too enthusiastically. I noticed that, no, she hadnt got braces although, when i last saw her, she said she would. I wonder if perhaps she should have.
Her name is Chelsea. She used to be in my class in year five. Seeing her on the bus, although she didnt recognise me, brought back an awful lot of memories. Of when we would wear vest tops without bras - a bad decision. Of the first time any of us had 'proper'boyfriends (infact, her first boyfriend was a boy called james who, a year or so later, punched me in the face when i would not go out with him), ie a step up from the boys we 'went out' with in reception so we would be allowed to play thunderbirds. Of not needing to understand any of lifes intricacies because who expected a 10yrold to be tactful or insightful?
She also reminded me of Hanson, something that brings me directly back to year five.
Chelsea lived in a council house which was infested with rats. She called them her pets and pretended to us that they wanted the rats to live with them. I expect it was easier to handle like that. Her mum had mental difficulties, not disabilities, she was just overemotional and prone to outbursts. I never understood what it was like to have a mother like that. Her dad was violent with her younger brother, he was in Hals year. I will never understand what it is like to have a father like that.
So there we go, although i cant even remember her last name, and no doubt Chelsea didnt recognise me, this girl left me thoughtful and, yes, nostalgic all the way until charlottes dad fired an air ball at my neck with a golf club.
Sorry if that was wrong...