Recently in Root Memory Category

One of my childhood heroes died last week.

I'll always remember how he taught me to ski, lessons so memorable I remember them over 20 years later.
I'll always remember how he was the one who picked me up and carried me over 100m down the ski slope when I fell and broke my wrist as a 10 year old (I still have the scar where the bone came through)
I'll always remember how he could keep us, we children, entertained with games and tricks using nothing more than a tin tray with a little water, or simpler still just our fingers. I still play those games with my children.
I'll always remember the barbeque with chicory wood chippings smoking the meat.
I'll always remember an impromptu game of rounders in the park behind his house.

At his funeral, I found he wasn't just my hero.

Over 200 people crammed in to celebrate his life and share how Bob had influenced their lives. There were a dozen readings, every one filled with how he'd inspired that person, and often their friends, to achieve a myriad of different things.
I never knew he'd introduced a city teenager to canoeing, who later canoed for England
I never knew he'd inspired so many in Skiing, working at a national level to develop the sport when I only knew him as the instructor at my local dry slope.
I never knew he'd inspired not only the children at the local rugby club, but the parents too.
I never knew... so many more things that I learnt about Bob yesterday.

First lesson over! That was fun. Just like starting sixth form in so many ways. Meeting all the new people but with easier opening lines like "so, where are you from?". Thinking of which, I should put this in the Root Memory category as I remember starting my Business Studies A levels and meeting my friend Wendy...

Nice group, good sense of humour. There were 8 of us tonight, should be 10 next week. This was just a familiarisation night to check the software worked for all of us. We came from all over the world, or to be precise USA, Canada, Holland, Romania and me from the UK. The instructor is a chap called Ben Ramsey. We can hear him but we can only speak when he 'passes the mic' - students that can't answer back? It must be teacher heaven! He speaks clearly and I'm sure he knows his stuff.

I'm guessing, but I think he's the Ben Ramsey at http://benramsey.com/, in which case, he really does know his stuff!

I think I'm going to enjoy this course.

When I think of my Granddad, one thing has always sprung to mind. It's a song with the lyrics "you won't get me I'm a part of the union, you won't get me I'm a part of the Union...". (Text really doesn't mean much when you think of songs, so If I ever get round to it I'll see if I can put an extract here too.)

My Granddad was a Union Man. I remember growing up and him talking about political things and I'm sure he must have mentioned the unions several times. I can't remember anything specific that he said about the unions, but I have always associated that song with him. The song "PART OF THE UNION" was released by The Strawbs in 1973 - 3 years before I was born.

Fast forward a couple and a half decades. In 2003 I finally got round to having some guitar lessons. The teacher, Dave Lambert, used to teach my dad many years ago. Dave is an exceptionally good teacher. I also knew he'd had some songs in the charts many years before, including one called "Lay Down". Now, I've never been very good remembering names, so I didn't know that the band that recorded "Lay Down" were "The Strawbs". Dave Lambert was (and is) a Strawb.

For several months I had no idea that I was being taught to play guitar by one of the musicians who recorded the song I associate with my Granddad.

Growing up, I used to hate being sick. I know, that's quite normal. I also remember Mum and Dad never seemed to be sick (or at least be as upset by it) as I was. Well, whilst growing up I had one experience that taught me being sick wasn't so bad after all.

In 1995 I was fortunate to go trekking in Nepal (courtesy of some hard work and help from the Boys Clubs). One evening, up a remote hillside in Nepal the Sherpa's made us soup for dinner. I remember seeing the oily surface reflecting in the half light of dusk. I remember forcing it down because although I didn't feel to good, I decided I needed the energy having been walking for a few days.

Within a couple of hours I was sick. I then began thinking, "oh well, I'm being sick. Not a lot I can do about i,t just let it happen then get some sleep".

That trip to Nepal was the first time I realised that being sick isn't always so bad, just something to put up with for a while until you're better. I think part of it was resigning myself to the fact that no-one else could help. It was apparent to me then that the nearest hospital was a long way away (a 2 day walk followed by a 1 day drive), so if being sick was all I had to worry about, then I really had nothing worry about.