Store Your Happy Memories Here:
What this place is for:
This thread is a tool, a resource, and also I guess a dash of entertainment.
I’ve found that when life is grim that sometimes thoughts of past happiness can create a chink of light in the grey overwhelming press of down. They can help occupy the mind with lighter reflections.
With that in view I invite people to set down a brief passage describing some happy event they look back to with fondness and peace.
They - and others too - can then return to it when they feel the need to glean a little warmth.
It is not a place for gloomy or dire tales, those can go elsewhere.
What to do:
Just set out, as simply as you like, your recollection of some past experience that means something good to you, something you enjoyed, something from safe times.
It can be, like my story below, anything – from an account of visiting grandparents to simply cooking and eating a melted-cheese sandwich in a favorite kitchen – you get to choose.
How to do it:
Write. Write enough so someone else can feel the mood, know what happened, find the goodness. (stop at 2,500 characters please!)
Grammar, syntax, spelling, punctuation are not compulsory, just write as you can – the only important thing is the content - not literary merit. Short or long - it does not matter.
I hope you enjoy, contribute and find a little distraction here when you need it.
50’s London. A slightly tubby kid in grey shorts, black blazer with badge, grey cap, school tie. The clock creeps in the chemistry lab whilst Mr Hubert drones about valencies (a mystery to this day). The bell rings. We all charge down long wood-panelled corridors to the cloak room where I’ve my brown cardboard suitcase full of clothes my mother insisted on packing
I‘m out through the wrought iron gates and wait. 2 buses pass then one red double-decker stops and I clamber up the spiral staircase to the seats. The conductor takes my pennies and whirls a machine that churns out a paper ticket
I watch the streets full of people ending their day. I alight in a hurry at the grand dirty busy Euston station. I’ve my ticket so I look at the boards by the central sooty clock. Weaving between people, porters, trolleys and baggage I show my ticket to the watchful man at the trellis barrier, enter the platform which stretches forever. Running along the carriages I smell the soot, the steam & hear the huff of the engine. Finding a First compartment empty I board and sit on a plush seat under a picture of the sea-side
Just as I wished there’s no one else. A shrill guard’s double whistle, energetic chuffing and a jolt. We’re going. I watch as the end of the station & sea of tracks pass, then the grimy suburbs glide by, backs of brick & slate houses and tiny yards towards me
The carriage has no corridor so I’m happy on my own. I unpeg the strap to lower the window. Assaulted by cinders, smoke and roar I close it
The train stops, each carriage clanking up against the next. Cup of tea & bacon butty from the platform cafe under gaslight. Put a penny in a glass cabinet to watch a model train turn its wheels. Print my name on an aluminum strip in a cast iron pedestal
I reboard - an old lady has my seat. She glares at me so I sit at the opposite end. She smells of lavender. We start but there’s nothing to see except my reflection in the dark outside. The occasional light whizzes by. Eagle time
I’m bursting for to wee, The train stops by the Irish ferry. Nain in Sunday coat, short, ruddy face, open arms. Tide, dignified, watchchain, twitches his moustache in welcome
Walking along the tide line on a postcard perfect tropical beach, white sand so fine it creaks underfoot. Pausing every few steps to pick up and admire the colour, shape and texture of exotic sea shells, watching the fringe of palm trees sway, listening to their creaks and rustles in the breeze. Soaking in the iodized air and fine sea spray. Keeping an eye on breaking waves for a glimpse of porpoise fin. On the sky for a sea eagle gliding in slow circles interrupted by a lightning dive. Giving beached jellyfish and marine carcasses a wide berth.
7 km of Paradise from one fishing village to another. All the time in the world to reach the other end and share a cardamom chai with fishermen and skin divers. Taking a child from her mother while she pokes and feeds a coconut husk fire in the chai shop open kitchen. Sitting the child on my hip as she plays with my hair, giggling. Still carrying her, dancing on the sand to the sound of reggae music, the pulse of the tropics.
Feeling I have found my slot in the world, my place within the human family. At last.
Traveling to Seattle in December, 2016, to fulfill a promise i made myself whilst in hospital with PTSD - watch my Seattle Seahawks (NFL) play at Century Link, the loudest (per capita) stadium in the USA.
Was the most amazing night and memories that I will cherish forever.
Peaceful hello all,
I remember playing in a tear shaped garden when i was 2 years old. It was just before we moved to our new house. I like playing around this garden a lot.
After we moved and I grew up a bit we had a pure bread border collie that used to pull me around on my skate board. Thats a pure joy childhood memory.
I remember lots of times actually.
The best memory i have is when I was very ill and my boy was born. Nothing could stop me from that event.
Till this day sickmor not sick my boy is my pride and joy.
Happy Aussie day
I recently had a lovely time playing cars and trains with my tiny grandson with the odd song thrown in, 'down by the station early in the morning' and some others he taught me in Chinese and Korean. We made caves out of pillows and play dough cupcakes and vegetables.
I gave due reverence to his group of imaginary animal friends. Luckily he was able to make sure that he kept the small rainbow coloured lizard sitting on his shoulder safe from his clumsy grandma's hands.
I did have some difficulty with the green for go and red for stop lights, which I couldn't see! He kindly explained when the light was green or red so that my car could stop or zoom along. I happily sat read so very many stories with him cuddled up next to me. His please grandma.. had me at the p.
Now home again I have very nearly untangled myself from his little finger or maybe I wont!
1. Music lessons:
Auditioning for a concert pianist. The audition itself was nerve racking and something that I had dreaded for weeks.
But the end result? Said concert pianist became my teacher and mentor. Lessons with him: an education.
Jumping online to learn that I had received an offer for my first uni preference.
3. Travel (albeit limited)
The feeling of newness, excitement and possibility from my (limited) travels. It makes me feel alive.
I love being on planes too. I know lots of people hate it but I enjoy the experience. There's a certain freedom being that high up.
I wish that I had the disposable income to be a frequent flyer. One day...
Watching the Australia Day fireworks with my family from the front yard (at the local park a few houses away) and just being in awe of how lucky I am to live in this country and to be surrounded by people who love and appreciate me. All the different colours and sparkles from the fireworks to me kind of symbolised all the different happy moments that I have shared with the people I love and the loud bangs to me were like reminders of how loudly and proudly I am to be Australian. Also, all the beautiful spectrum of colours in from of the dark night sky are like symbols of how good times shine through the darkness. Not sure if this makes any sense at all hahaha!
A happy memory for me today is:
Seeing and smelling yellow cobs of freshly picked corn boiling gently away in a large pot. And knowing I would soon get to eat the sweet juicy cobs. This is a childhood memory...... Thank you mum for cooking it thankyou dad for growing it.