1959 One cold winter night

One cold winter night
One cold winter night

1959 One cold winter night, it was only half past three and already dark. Blowing a blizzard, and the snow lay thick on the ground. The snow was so deep that not a single tyre track or footprint was showing.

That Night

You would find me sitting on the back of the settee. Looking out of the front room window in our modest terraced house in Enfield. Waiting for the most important person in my life to come home from work. I didn’t care if Mum caught me and told me off for ‘breaking’ the settees back. I was waiting for my Dad!

Then in the distance, I heard the roar of his bike, a Black and White, Triumph Thunderbird 650. I couldn’t see it yet but I knew he was near. The snow obliterated my view. Then suddenly I could vaguely see the headlights, just a dim gentle glow at first, gradually getting brighter and bigger as he drew near.

He was at the crossroads of Turnpike Lane and Tottenhall Road I could hear the bike ticking over while Dad waited to make sure there was no traffic and the road was clear. I heard him accelerate and then at first, a black dot materialised amongst the white snow. Growing bigger until I could make out my Dad’s silhouette. He was close and soon would walk through the door, smelling of wood and fresh paint.

Dad arrived

He limped into the kitchen frozen and stiff after working outside all day and driving home in the freezing snow. Dad’s clothes stood up on their own because they were frozen solid. Mum and I had to help him off with his clothes. He went and sat down in the front room and was in pain from the cramp in his lower legs.

While Mum made a hot drink

I began working on Dad’s calf muscles they were cold and hard. Gradually as the circulation returned the muscles softened. I could feel the hard lump within the muscle that I later came to know is what we call a knot. This lump was where the pain was originating from. I picked the lump up, prodded and poked at it, rubbing it between my little fingers. Gradually teasing it into submission. I could feel it growing smaller and becoming less painful as I worked the fibres and freed them.

Years Later

I asked Mum if she could remember the event, her mouth dropped open and she gasped as I relayed my memories, Mum said you can’t remember that, can you?

I did remember because I’d just recited the story

she was amazed as she said

‘you were only 2’…………

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