Chapter Two

Patricia's Own Language

When Patricia was two or three years old she made up a little language all of her own. Whether this meant she was clever enough to do that, or stupid enough not to learn English properly, one will never know.

She called a ball a 'babem' because it bounced. To her mind it was the sound the ball made as it bounced up and down.

Little boys were called 'little boos.'

The birds were 'Bee Bees.'

A hedgehog was a 'Boggy.'

The front room was the 'Root Row.'

She called her sister Marilyn 'Mar Mar.' Her sister hated it! But she did it for years and years.

And the worst one of all was 'Belly Bum' which she said when she was cross.  Belly and Bum being words she was not allowed to say, so she did by adding them together. (I must add here that she no longer says it, but she is often tempted to say things she shouldn't!)  Patricia had the bad habit of pouting and it looks so funny on old photographs!

Patricia was taken to church each week as a child and once, when visiting another church to listen to a local girl singing, Patricia shouted 'Belly Bum' out loudly during the service. She did it because she was told not to do something or to do something, not sure which... and it was very strange, because no one took any notice at all, even though it was very quiet when she did this. As young as she was, she was expecting some re-action. Her mother shushed her and probably sank beneath the pew to hide her shame.

My poor, poor mother! She had a lot to put up with.

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I need to add to this section something which is a bit weird. I can remember saying when I was five or six 'I've been here before.' I meant in the world, I think.  I used to get very strong feelings of Deja Vu. Someone I know was often freaked out by things her small son said. He said one time 'When I was an old man, I used to live in that house.' And he pointed to a house across the street. She found it very spooky!

As Shakespeare said 'There are more things in heaven and on earth, Horatio than can be dreamt about in your philosophy.'

I'm not sure if this was a suggested image, or whether it is true, but I can remember being in the womb. It was a small confined space and I could see red and yellow colours. My mother was outside of the post office and she was talking to another woman. It was summer time and the sun was shining. Mum stroked her heavily pregnant stomach and said 'I will be so glad when this baby is born.  It's getting hard work now.' Quite possibly, this is an imagined image when mum told me about the conversation. We do have strange imaginations do we not?