I have been wanting to write about this for quite some time but I really have not known how to find the words to begin.
You see this is personal, I mean really personal but it is something that needs to be said and that I need to get out because in this modern world of ours it is not that unusual but when this story begins it was indeed most unusual in fact it was down right frowned upon…the year was 1973.
1973 the time of long hair for boys and girls alike along with flared trousers platform shoes and Sidney Sideburns that would put most Movember candidates to shame.
Freedom for the young was still a new enough experience and this generation was truly the first that were born onto that freedom but there were still plenty of generations from before left around to hold society in a death grip of times gone by where there were set rules for dating sex and child births outside of marriage even if that grip was slipping slowly away.
Council estates were still the stuff of dreams giving the working classes affordable clean housing and that was where my family lived at this point in time. My Mother met my Father and I was conceived out of wedlock whilst Mum was only 16 years old. Now in today’s world that is not either unusual or that frowned upon, don’t get me wrong there will always be folk that judge from afar whilst looking down their noses at other peoples situations without knowing all of the facts nor the journey that brings people to the destination they have arrived at and back in ’73 unfortunately this was the norm.
Can you imagine living through that at 16 years old? Everyone looking at you judging you from close up with loud “tuts” and withering looks as you pass by. Now for one reason or another my biological parents did not stay together and lets face it at that age it is not very surprising really, I mean the cases of folks being together from that age these days are few and far between so not a lot has changed in the past four decades there.
So there she was my Mum a single 16 year old soon to be parent growing a baby in her belly through the summer of 1973 going against the very normal fabric of society at the time. Luckily for me her family were behind her and soon enough I came kicking and screaming into the world.
My Father stayed in touch I believe helping out until the time came that I was adopted by my Dad but there is no need to delve deep into the private business of the three of them from that time as it has no bearing on the story or what I am trying to say with it. I am sure there were ups and downs but that is as much their business now as it was then so we dear reader shall walk away from all of that messiness and carry on with our tale…