There has been a lot of debate about the age of an adult’s earliest memory. One study indicated that few adults can remember anything that happened to them before the age of three, while another study suggested that it is at about age seven that our earliest memories begin to fade… Something called ‘childhood amnesia’.
My earliest memory is from when I was aged five. My mummy disappeared. Vanished! There was no explanation. I was five years old and my sister was three years old.
We had absolutely no idea where out mother had gone. I remember my sister and I had been sleeping on a pull-out sofa bed in the front room, but I cannot recall why. I also remember how we cried out for our mummy. The front room — our parlour room – was never used, so I can’t imagine why we were even in there.
My sister had been trying to warm her liberty bodice (remember when little girls wore those close fitting sleeveless undergarments that were made of thick cotton or wool?). She was standing next to the electric bar heater — something she had seen mum do, maybe — when it caught on fire. Our screams soon brought Dad in to smother the flame. We were both taken next door after that, presumably so that I could be taken to school and my sister could be looked after.
I remember that when I got home from school that afternoon my father met me at the door. He picked me up and said, “There’s a surprise for you.”
He carried me into the front room. The first thing I noticed was a white bassinet on a stand, though I had no idea what a bassinet was at the time. Then I saw my mummy! She was back. I remember being filled with joy at seeing her again.
Of course, the reality was that my mum had been in hospital to have her third baby. However, back when I was growing up children were not given such information and nor were they expected to understand, even if they were told.
There is something to be said for the open and ‘out there’ policy of some parents today. Toddlers are often included and have a much better understanding of what getting a new sibling will mean, and that mummy has a baby in her tummy. When I was growing up, we were certainly kept in the dark and not expected to be told anything. We just accepted things and carried on with life, without question.