I remember my first day at school with a gigantic shoe bag, made of old curtains
I remember my school shoes, lace-up, brown.
I remember sniffing, at new and glossy books.
I remember someone giving me a black eye in the playground
(I remember kicking her).
I remember the smell of tangerines on Christmas mornings
I remember it was too cold to get out of bed.
I remember the dog being sick on the new carpet.
I remember being lost.
I remember being found, by a policeman.
I remember eating raw jelly cubes in the middle of the night
I remember being smacked for jumping in puddles
I remember the smell of decades old leather in a vintage Rover.
I remember my first kiss.
I remember lying in confession
I remember being told I’d make a good nun.
I remember the sound of my granny playing the piano in the evenings
I remember playing Prokofiev’s ‘March of the Capulets’ – full volume, over and over again.
I remember my first platform shoes, lime green
I remember falling off them.
I remember the pain of a broken rib on a mountain.
I remember walking home from a party in winter – then hitching a lift in a truck with a girlfriend
I remember my father’s fury.
I remember my ‘best friend’ stealing my boyfriend
I remember him crying and holding my hand.
I remember my first taste of guava jelly in Port of Spain
I remember flying low and waving to a woman hanging out clothes in the sunshine.
I remember running away from a temp job and leaving my coat behind
I remember the smell of sardines on toast.
I remember the panic of nerves before going on stage
I remember that familiar feeling, like the first day at school.