Today, and the lead up to Remembrance Sunday has got me thinking about memories. Here are some of mine.

I remember playing dressing up with one of my oldest friends, we used to pretend we were getting married, and used the net curtains in her dressing up box as a veil.

I remember how my Mum and Dad's old cat Frisky used to sit on the window sill behind me, when I was eating a full English, then lean over my shoulder and try to grab the bacon in her teeth.

I remember when my Mum and Dad got me a puppy when I was 12/13, Rosie.  She was the craziest dog I've ever met.

I remember going out with my sister when I was 14(she's 10 years older) and how it got me used to spending time with older people, I still get on with people of all ages today.

I remember on my 16th birthday my Mum and Dad playing 'happy birthday sweet sixteen' on their CD player.

I remember on my 17th birthday my friend who was taller getting us a bottle of vodka, and having swigs of neat vodka followed by Baileys Ice Cream.

I remember my amazing 18th birthday, my parents set up a photo wall of me at different ages for my friends to look at, the crazy night out, and incredible full English my Mum did for us the next day.

I remember my first day when I moved to Liverpool going in Waterstones on Bold Street, they were giving out champagne as it had just opened, and my Mum saying the champagne was because I'd arrived.

I remember loving life as a student and living in the North West, and the influence of my course tutor who I will never forget.  It's true when they say you always remember the best teachers.

I remember(or partly remember) all the nights at the Krazyhouse in Liverpool and feeling for the first time I was part of a community where I felt I fitted in.  All we need now is a rock club/night in Chester .

I remember dancing in the square in Florence around the same time as Berlusconi's election, with my Mum and sister, and all the Italians looking at us as if we were mad.

I remember camping in Abersoch and drinking champagne from paper cups.

I remember holding my nephew for the first time, and him looking into my eyes, I knew then we would always be partners in crime.

I remember my first poetry performance at Zest in Chester, how nervous I was, and how welcome I was made to feel.

I remember my first radio slot as guest poet on Vintage Radio.

I remember the coincidence of running into an old colleague at a poetry night who is now both a fellow poet and a firm friend.

I remember
I remember
I remember


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