Last night I saw part of The 100 Greatest Kids’ TV Shows. It’s a peculiar sensation when you recognize something you absolutely don’t remember. It’s like being quick-frozen with your eyes wide open.
In 1970, when I was five, there was a show about a little girl (made of card) who lived in a flat with a dog and a mouse (Midge). Last night’s film clip began with the flower bed outside the flat, and we sat staring at it for a while. I thought, “oh yes, I know that flower bed,” in a thinking-about-something-else kind of way. Then I frowned and thought, “sorry? I DON’T remember anything like that.” The camera lifted, and zoomed in on the top floor of a small block of flats. The girl, dog and mouse waved stiffly from their window, the mouse parting the plants in the window box to peer out. The feeling I had was indescribable! I should think the very last time I saw any of that (let alone thought about it) was when I was 6.
They also had Black Beauty (not the Sean Bean thing!) I used to watch that with the girl next door. The black horse came thundering along, hooves pounding – that was always my favourite bit. When I saw it last night, I was reaching for a tissue.
Of course, most kids in those days gained far more from children’s programmes than I did. With my hearing loss, I never had a clue what they were waffling on about. It didn’t stop me watching – what else was there for a small child to do? It was that or read Rupert the Bear for the thousandth time.
It’s odd how we can recognize things we don’t remember and tap into knowledge we don’t even know we have. Sometimes the memories are so deeply buried that it’s not till you see it again that you remember. Even then, you might not remember very much – you just know that it’s something you’ve seen or experienced many times.
After a restless night during which I dreamed about eBay, I woke up and thought, “hmm, 12th March – the year is wearing on.” I felt so cheerful that the song Let Your Yeah Be Yeah pounced on me out of the blue. Yet there was something nagging at the edge of my subconscious. Normally I get up and leave the room, but this time I lifted a corner of the curtain and peered out cautiously, like Midge from behind his flowers. Ah ha… snow!
Let your yeah be yeah and your no be no, now
Let your yeah be yeah and your no be no, now…
It’s snowed so steadily that the boys across the road… oh. I was going to to say “made a snowman”, but it looks more like the Titanic’s nemesis. Have snowmen become uncool?
Because I’m on my guard and I’m watching you from head to toe…
You better let your yeah be yeah and your no be no.