Our challenges tended to be physical rather than academic, and soon we were setting them for ourselves. I have an early memory of learning how to swim. I was either four or five, and we had been on holiday in Devon with Dad's sisters, Auntie Joyce and Aunt Wendy, and Wendy's husband, Uncle Joe. I was particularly fond of Auntie Joyce, and at the beginning of the holiday she had bet me ten shillings that I couldn't learn to swim by the end of the fortnight. I spent hours in the sea trying to swim against the freezing-cold waves, but by the last day I still couldn't do it. I just splashed along with one foot hopping on the bottom. I'd lunge forward and crash beneath the waves before spluttering up to the surface trying not to swallow the seawater.

'Never mind, Ricky,' Auntie Joyce said. 'There's always next year.'
But I was determined not to wait that long. Auntie Joyce had made me a bet, and I doubted that she would remember it the next year. On our last day we got up early, packed the cars and set out on the twelve-hour journey home. The roads were narrow; the cars were slow; and it was a hot day. Everyone wanted to get home. As we drove along I saw a river.
'Daddy, can you stop the car, please?' I said.
This river was my last chance: I was sure that I could swim and win Auntie Joyce's ten shillings.
'Please stop!' I shouted.
Dad looked in the rear-view mirror, slowed down and pulled up on the grass verge.
'What's the matter?' Aunt Wendy asked as we all piled out of the car.
'Ricky's seen the river down there,' Mum said. 'He wants to have a final go at swimming.'
'Don't we want to get on and get home?'Aunt Wendy complained. 'It's such a long drive.'
'Come on, Wendy. Let's give the lad a chance,' Auntie Joyce said. 'After all, it's my ten shillings.'

I pulled off my clothes and ran down to the riverbank in my underpants. I didn't dare stop in case anyone changed their mind. By the time I reached the water's edge I was rather frightened. Out in the middle of the river, the water was flowing fast with a stream of bubbles dancing over the boulders. I found a part of the bank that had been trodden down by some cows, and waded out into the current. The mud squeezed up between my toes. I looked back. Uncle Joe and Aunt Wendy and Auntie Joyce, my parents and sister Lindi stood watching me, the ladies in floral dresses, the men in sports jackets and ties. Dad was lighting his pipe and looking utterly unconcerned; Mum was smiling her usual encouragement.

Posledná zmena: pondelok, 19 septembra 2005, 11:26