Rain rain, In we came out of the rain. One of us was frozen having volunteered in the wind lanes at The William Morris Gallery in Forest Road. Many of us knew each other and we turned out to be a nice bunch of seniors coming into The Mill’s garden room with stories of childhoods spent in Jamaica, Nigeria, Hackney, Crouch End, Glasgow, Sierra Leone, Ile De Reunion and Walthamstow aka Essex.
Here was another oral history, memory, our community heritage project and some of us have had our fill of them. This one called “Telling Tales” will culminate in a play. Our voices are recorded, then the content is edited before our facilitator and hostess writes up the play for proper actors. The play? Good luck with that, teacher.
The heating was pumped up and people thawed out . We were too busy chatting and listening respectfully to each other to even make a cup of tea. Stories themed on “Childhood” spilled out . There was the evacuation, the murder, the cyclones, the first woman in the village to be educated tale, some Victorian games under the heat of the Jamaican sun, lots of gasps, tons of laughter and Penguins nibbled.