THE STREET OF MY CHILDHOOD
The street of my childhood is one I’ll never forget. I could never forget the long narrow road filled with varying shops and stores, the smell of fried chicken when you walked past the chicken shop, the sound of working clippers when you passed barber shop, the sound of the game on in the pub and the strong lingering smell of alcohol and cigarettes when you walked past the people outside. I could never forget the estates that were on my childhood road, each one different in its character and build but they all stood tall and proud on ‘New Park Road’.
My childhood street began with my estate, which was, particularly noticeable, its red-bricked block of flats that curved around each other only leaving 2 wide opening to enter. Once you entered it was more enclosed than the rest if the street, the brick road leading you past the rubbish disposal, where you would often hold your breath in fear of inhaling the stench of the rotting waste waiting to be thrown out. You would also pass the playground where you would be greeted with the distinct sound of a football hitting the fence as children played five aside, the clapping sound of shoes running across the playground followed by screaming children as they played tag and of course the never changing sound of the ice cream van pulling into the estate to sell overpriced ice cream to the kids who knew no better. They would line up excited as they craved their usual creamy, vanilla ice cream topped with a chocolate flake or ice cold strawberry ice poles, to cool them down from all the running in the summer heat. By the time you passed the playground you neared the end of the estate, greeted once again by tall, bricked block of flats almost identical to the ones up front and just like that you’re back on the street.
The atmosphere on my childhood street began to change once the sun went down, from cheerful children playing in the park and running around under the suns intense heat to large groups of intimidating guys sitting and standing where the children once played. The atmosphere would turn somber once you heard the loud music blaring from the speakers of a car that was pulling into the estate. The calm left after the children returned to their homes and was replaced mostly by, the group of guys listening to loud music while they argued and spoke within themselves, sometimes you could hear them yelling threats at each other as they walked by the street. At night, the dark street was dimly lit by the lights of the stores that were still open and was only walked over by a couple people rushing to get home and a few drunk individuals, the distinct smell of alcohol following them. If you were out on the street at night, a sense of foreshadowing would follow you as you turned the corners, went down the alleyways and shortcuts every whisper, shout, call and engine roaring to life instantly became more coherent as your sense searched for possible danger.
I could never forget the many firsts I experienced on my street, my first day of primary school, my first day of secondary school, the first place I learned to ride a bike, the first time I rode the bus alone, where I met my first best friend and only time I was hit by a car, I could still feel the rough gravel on the road cutting through my skin as I fell on the road making this my most distinct memory of my street.
As I grew up, the street began to change, the roads were narrowed to make it safer for the school children, all the residential building were refurbished and new venues were created in order to modernize the street and attract a new crowd. New businesses sprung in place of the old ones and the area was taken under new management. The park no longer swarmed with children playing in the park because that generation had grown up and were now consumed with their phones and catching up on their Netflix series.
Now, I realize the changes that the street has gone through, almost as if the street grew up with me. It still remains the same visually with a few modern touches, the same people still live on the street, the same local businesses stay standing, the same buses still pass by everyday but its different in the way I look at it and the experiences I take away from it but no matter what, I’ll never forget the street of my childhood.
Figure 1: New Park Road, Street Of My Childhood
