This week I have been reminiscing about where I grew up. The ‘old’ estate on the Dublin Road in Antrim. My home town from birth until my 31st year, before moving away.
This all came about from another former Dublin Road inhabitant asking about who someone was. It was great just recalling the people we grew up with. Reminding ourselves of who and where. Not forgetting the “Boot Hill Rockers”, and the badly daubed graffiti of the same, scrawled across the wall of the subway you walked through on your walk into town. The characters that we had close by. The ones that had lasting impressions and the ones that we scratch our heads trying to remember.
Even though it seems like a million years ago now, it was brilliant that there were so many kids of different ages on that estate. Everyone had a friend, just a street away at most. That’s something I’m sad for my kids about. The ability to go knock on a door and ask those immortal words “Is (insert name) coming out to play?”
As we age, I believe we are only as old as we want to be. That date on our drivers license or passport is like your childhood phone number, it hangs around in the background and for some obscure reason is never forgotten. I still remember mine, I would post it here but the cool thing is, my parents managed to retain the number when they moved from the Dublin Road in 2004. They’ve had the same number for nearly 60yrs. I even remember them adding the an additional number to take it from a four digit number up to five and my dad giving off that it was just “unnecessary”.
Go now and check Google maps, zoom in on the satellite image of where you were and just smile as you bring back the memories. For me, X marks the spot.
These memories that were suddenly evoked, create a happy distraction.
I hope you are now thinking of your childhood and trying to picture who lived where and who you used to call on to “come out to play”…
Happy Damn Friday! x
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happydamnfriday@outlook.com
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