A chat with my 10 year old self.

Hello – can you say who you are?

Yes.

And?

Fleur.

And?

I like horses. Riding bikes, reading – and I fight with my older sister.

Ok. Anything else?

My grandmother lives in the flat opposite our front door and she’s really miserable.  I hate her. She’s an ogre.

Do you really hate her?

Yes.

Why?

No matter how hard my Dad tries, she won’t laugh.

What does your dad do to make her laugh?

Long pause. You’re a grown up – why would you want to know?

I just do.

He dresses up.  Puts on a silly hat, then knocks on her window. He tries to make her jump, or laugh.  It’s really funny, but she just says: “Raymond! You’re puggle.” And knocks her cigarette ash into the marmalade tin.

What does puggle mean?

You know – daft.’

So do you have a horse?

No – I hang around the horses that live in the field on the other side of the river.  They’re owned by a woman called Jan, but she never comes to see them.  One of them had a foal in the field when I was there.  It was in a white film, and it wriggled as it came out, and then the mare chewed the white stuff off and the foal treid to stand up, but it couldn’t so I ran to find mum.

What did your mum do.

Nothing, she was on the phone, so I got Dad, who found the policeman who lives next door and then he decided that the foal was ok.

So was that exciting?

Pause.  Dunno.  I’ve got a friend up the lane.  He goes away to school, but when he’s at home, we play James Bond under the tree in the garden.

Play James Bond?’

Yes, he’s James Bond, I don’t know what I am really. I’ve never actually seen a James Bond film. And we shoot things.

Really shoot things?

Silence.

Really?

Can I go now?

 

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