It’s odd what my mother kept. In one envelope are two letters written in the early 1960s by me and my brother, the Archaeologist. He is a mere 19 months older than me but it might as well be a millennia.
We would holiday with my gran at Easter, letting mum, especially have a break from two demanding boys. That Easter we were taken to Margate, to Dreamland in a sidecar. I remember it well and I reported as much to my parents in my letter.
Astute readers may notice a middle name. In CAPITALS. I begrudged the fact the Archaeologist had a middle name and I did not so my mother suggested I adopt one. He had also been named after one of the Rev Awdry’s trains – Gordon the Express, would you credit – while Geoffrey never appeared in any transportative capacity. It was, I suspect, inevitable that I would adopt the hero of the eponymous series, albeit I failed to retain the same. My younger self would not be best pleased at my feeble mindedness in letting go of that middle name.
And, of course, this provides proof, were any needed, of my early and still enduring love of the ginger-quiffed boy reporter, Tintin. At least I’ve not let me down totally by retaining that affection.
The Archaeologist’s approach to writing home, meanwhile, can best be described as formal. I’m not sure, aged nine or so as he was then, if he had come across Jane Austen but I suspect it wasn’t far off. And had a quill pen been available, well the pencil would have been dispensed with.
Were we really related? It does seem unlikely. And is it any wonder I was intimidated? You might well think he was some sort of freakish automaton, cold, a child aesthete. Ha!
Piglet! What a softy… Needless to say the child with the large thighs in the right hand corner is me. My brains were always likely to be found in my arse.
TanGental 
Very similar (14 months) age gap between Chris and me. I was the oldest. Chris the mathematician, me the artist
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Yes, the other way about in terms of academic leanings; were you coldly indifferent to Chris? My only point seems to be as something to be used in various egregious experiments. Oh well at least I survived.
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I’m pleased to see you were visiting the library – even although you don’t appear to be able to spell it. The formality of your full-name signature reminds me of a set of childhood pictures taken by John, all carefully labelled CW Marsh (better known as Mum), JH Marsh (himself) and so on for every family member. Also, your brother listing his address all the way out to the Solar System – I’m sure we all did that at some point. Happy days!
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Yes, I’m surprised he stopped at Solar System!
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What awesome memories, in paper and on print. A nostalgic and fun post.
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Thanks. Odd really, that these things stick so well..
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Isn’t it strange, to see a letter you’ve written when you were a child – so very, very long ago, and yet, you can skip back into that child’s head in a moment. I think it’s important to be able to bring out that child and his thoughts, insecurities (the brother), the desires (a middle name!) and the wonderful politeness. Sweet. As I’m sure you still are.
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It is lovely to spin back in time though ‘sweet’? Maybe others should judge!
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Do you remember pressing so hard with the pencil that all the varnish from the table was stuck to the back of the paper when you turned it over?! Tut-tut. These brought that memory back – thanks. Interesting to see how personalities are fundamentally fixed from the word go, as is shown brilliantly by these two little missives!
I wish I was as brief now as I was then. Stuck in one of the family albums is a thank-you letter from me which went: “Dear Auntie Grace, with love from Gillian” .
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No messing with you, Gilly. The epitome of no nonsense! And yes, carving ones name with pride albeit inadvertently.
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Wonderful! More proof that we come with our passions and life interests in place…… and our brain placements! 🙂
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What lovely reminiscences, Geoff, and how nice to get to know a little more of the boy in you. As you say, 18 months, but a millennium apart! It can happen that way. Your parents must have tried a different cabbage patch for you! Those artefacts of childhood are priceless, aren’t they?
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This is a little piece of treasure, Geoff. What a great look back into your childhood. I love how you ‘printed’ rather than use joined up writing. I was exactly the same while in Junior school and had to be encouraged to join the letter together.
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I had a handwriting exam when I was about 8 or 9 and on the report card I got a C with the comment ‘I don’t know how he did it’!
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I had the same thing with my Music exam! 😀
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What a cute butt! Definitely nothing to explain away. Love that Teddy Bear. It looks like he’s been through the washing machine a few too many times and is crying “Help.”
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A fan of TinTin even then! Love those chubby thighs! I see why your Mum kept those letters! 😃😉
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Just got to this (been catching up), and I’ve got the say Tintin jumped out at me from the letter straight away. Remembered you talking about him as we walked back to Kings Cross the other week. It’s funny how some things from our childhood still excite us. Although an avid reader, TV was really the biggest influence on me, so I get nostalgia pangs at the mention of many TV series from the ’60s and ’70s.
Can’t imagine my mother will have any of my old letters – but that’ll probably be down to me not writing any. A wonderful find.
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Yes very lucky that I found this
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