A Child of the Thirties
I have just recently realised where the England is that is in my heart. It is the England of my early childhood, a place of magic. It is a feeling that has somehow come into being in my old age. It comes from my childhood, probably continuing until twelve years old. My world was one of freedom. There was no war, my home was happy, we were not poor as so many were in those days, I felt I was part of the village where I lived and all was well. My love of woodland, fields and open spaces developed during that time. I had friends to explore with and a bike to ride, I had a mother, father and a little brother to love. What more could I want?
I have not mentioned school. I did not hate it but I must confess that I preferred the holidays. That is a dreadful thing to say these very serious days, I believe.
England is a very different place these days but still a good place to live. There are so many interesting people here. I am a long way from the fields and woods of my childhood. That world no longer exists. Also the child I was no longer exists. I have always lived in the present with no longing to go back.
