h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

The first house I lived at was shared with my uncle my Gran. He'd go off to work every morning with a 'See you later alligator' (well, this was the late 50s after all). I remember listening to The Archers on a Sunday morning, and especially Walter Gabriel: "Hallo me ole, pal me ole beauty". Grandma had a couple of tea caddy-sized tins (maybe they were actually tea caddies) full of the most incredible collection of buttons. I'd play with those for a while and sometimes look out of the front window at the buses going by with adverts for Black and White Whisky on the front, with the two Scottie dogs.

One morning I came downstairs and everything in the back garden looked... different. It was white instead of green. I recall that very vividly.

The one and only time I've ever fallen down stairs was at that place. Dang, it hurts.

I was playing underneath the dining room table one day and I banged my head. My Mum said it was God's punishment. I didn't know what for, and I think that started me off on my long career of atheism.

My Dad used to force Hydrangeas in the airing cupboard. There were lily-of-the-valley in the front garden and a soot pile in the back. I managed to find my way through the chicken wire and got into it once, apparently

I don't know why I associate The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy with that place but there must have been a connection.

We moved out when I was about three, maybe three and a half, and got a place of our own. And now I can look at it from 5000 miles away on Google Streetview. Amazing. They've turned the front garden into a bloody car park

Lovely post. These are very early memories and all the more poignant for it. I hope you ended up somewhere nice and warm.