Memories of 1984

It has bothered me somewhat of late that I can remember very little of what happened in 1984. I can remember things which might have happened in 1984 - but could have been 1983 or early 1985. I know what I was doing in 1984, but as to actual events. My autobiographical memory is usually very good - excellent even - but this year seems to escape me for little reason. Just as an exercise, I thought I would write down what I can actually remember happening that year - hopefully that might bring up other memories.
Background: I turned 12 in 1984, thus beginning the last year of what I consider to be my childhood. I was still living in Scotland, in Forres, and was in the first year of Forres Academy.
1) Nan's funeral. This was held a few days into the new year. Cold white light in Stone graveyard. My aunt Violet being understandably upset.
...and connected to this is something my sister said about my other aunt, Linda, who said that she could hear 'footsteps at night'. This was something overheard and naturally terrified my sister and me. We thought the house was haunted anyway. Waking up in the morning there and hearing the sound of builders, then realizing it was still night and there couldn't be builders, and being afraid of ghosts, and then suddenly it was morning and all was alright again.
2) 2000ad. I'd been reading comics for as long as I could remember, and under mt friend Coll's tutelage, was introduced to 2000ad, which I was then allowed to collect every week. This would have been early in the year. I remember later on, when it was warmer, sat out in the garden reading the latest issue. This I remember because my parents had a very minor TV celebrity staying over - the 'Cooking Canon' who had been giving a talk somewhere my parents were involved with.
3) Martin leaving. This was probably a big one. Martin was my best friend and left in ir around the easter of 1984. We had been friends for years, and with Craig (who left in 1982) had formed a ghost hunting group, whose antics had defined my childhood. I had known Martin was leaving for a year or so (our fathers were all in the RAF and would be posted every few years). I remember a great deal of dread accompanying this. Being in the woods at Kinloss with my Mum, and feeling suddenly sorrowful that my best friend would no longer be there. A windy blowy day. Mum picking up sticks or branches to use in something. I remember the day Martin left. Or rather I remember those final moments of Martin's leaving. This was at his house in Kinloss. My parents had come to pick me up, and this was it, our final goodbye... Martin stayed in the kitchen sharpening a pencil with a knife, and that was it... I remember he didn't come out to say goodbye. I remember white street lamps in a rainy dark distance.
4) Collecting a new comic called Scream, a horror comic for boys. I got all 13 issues before it stopped.
5) After Martin left I decided I needed a new best friend. I thought at first a boy called Mark might fill the spot, but he didn't seem interested in ghost hunting, so the spot was filled by John Kelly, whom I had known - vaguely - for a few years.
...the summer of 1984 is a blank... there are things which might have happened, but might not, so will have to be left empty...
6) Hallowe'en. John and me spent Hallowe'en trick or treating around Southside - the housing estate in Kinloss where he lived (and where I lived too from 1978 - 1981).
7) Mum was involved in some kind of church group - raising funds etc. I'm not really sure. Part of this involved organizing a jumble sale, to be held in some kind of hall in Forres. This meant that we would regularly get boxes of things delivered to our house. I remember that lots of these boxes had old Star Trek books - novelizations of the original TV series. I also bought newly published Star Trek books too - the same novelizations of the original series, but with new covers. It was always exciting when a new box was delivered.
8) We spent Christmas at my Grandad's that year. I remember taking only 3 Star Wars figures to play with. I suppose it was my last full year of being a child, before adolescence kicked in. I remember playing with Greedo in the long dark space behind the settee.
Not a huge amount of memories for one year, even if that year is 32 years ago. There are other vague memories as well, but I'm not sure for certain that they belong to that year or a generic 1983 - 1985 time.

Tales From Bridge 39 - The First Five Years

I have been writing here these Tales From Bridge 39 for five years now.
Half a decade! I have just read the first entry I wrote while at work, two jobs ago. I wrote of how I was staying at Andy's flat until I got my bedsit sorted, of a dream I had when I ws five, about the empty office at work, and of how I was looking forward to the walk home through rainy twilight. I mentioned how later that night I was going out for a friend's birthday and helping at her exhibition the coming Sunday.
Five years later and I'm working in a call centre not unlike the one I was in back then. I am going out for the same friends birthday tomorrow night. I am trying to organize my own exhibition.
I start to regret the scarcity of entries this year. I'm not sure why... I just got bored of writing them I suppose. The same old thing every day, but that was meant to be the whole point of Bridge 39 - that it was meant to be the same old thing... The mysteries in everyday existence. Perhaps I should start writing more regularly again.

Feels Like Winter

It really does feel like winter now. It's not su much the temperature - which is relatively mild for this time of year, but some other almost intangible shift of something. Perhaps it is the light, grey and stifled, and these few short hours of daylight seem unbearably muted - or maybe it is the sky that casts this light. A thick band of white cloud covers everything - actually not true - at least not yesterday. Yesterday was sunny - but cold, and there was a beautiful sunset over the sea, but it still felt like winter.
Actually it feels like a specific winter - or a specific late autumn / early winter - namely this time of year in 2011. Em and myself were still seeing each other. I ahd a week off work and went to London twice. Kate Bush's album '50 Words For Snow' formed the soundtrack. A strange week off that was - for no real reason really. I remember counting the days till I got back to work. I'm glad I'm not working at my old job any more.

Quotidian Sounds

The sound of a saw from the workshops below.
The absence of a conversation just finished.
The sound of a door closing.
To the left of the church spire, the sun attempting to break through clouds.
Five pots of the windowsill, two of them are cacti.
8 books of reprinted horror comics on the bookshelf.
A half finished cup of tea.
My washing in the machine. I need to take it out.
The sound of some vehicle on the road.

Increasing Undertow

Lost landscapes.
As I get older, these 'lost landscapes' begin to grow in their pull over my imagination. An undertow in the sea, dragging you down, not to drown, but to almost remember something.
A thicket of trees, bony and clanky, found on bright cold January days. Somewhere on the edges of town.
These lost landscapes are so often the province of trees; spinneys, copses, coverts, thickets. Even small clusters of trees, a conspiracy of branches and boughs and little more. Accessed by moving sideways through the quotidian environs of suburbia. A place always there, but you've never noticed till now.
A seafront cafe at night. Light spilling out onto the breezy boulevard.
Alone in the nothing-ness of a seaside town out of season. Why is it open so late? Why are so many people here? Am I merely confusing this lost landscape with the Meeting Place cafe on the actual seafront?
A summer holiday, a path across crop fields to - yes - another thicket of trees.
When I was on holiday in Wales this year, I became half-convinced that if I did indeed just cross a number of fields I might find this place I dream of.
A dripping forest, tropical, marshy ground. Looking at a distance of great plants...
And this seems to emerge from childhood... Some television programme perhaps? An illustratuion in a book?
I suppose the point is I'll never know - as soon as these landscapes are 'found', they'll lose whatever mystery it is that keeps them alive.