A Short History Of Tilly Bud In Arcanian

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ar·cane  /ɑrˈkeɪn/ adjective

known or understood by very few
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Write a power sentence for every year of your life.

This is a surprisingly good prompt so I’m going to take it seriously. 

If you believe that, you must be new here.

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1963: I am born in Liverpool, England; President Kennedy is assassinated in Dallas, America.  I’m not saying there’s a connection, but…

1964: I am one year old.  The Hub is born.  My life as a cougar is pre-destined.

1965: My younger brother is born; I learn to wet my pants for attention.

1966: England win the World Cup.  I’m three. I don’t even know what England is, never mind the World Cup; but I am English, and no one can mention 1966 without reminding everyone that England won the World Cup.  It’s the law.  I have started to read.  Star Trek is broadcast for the first time. My geekness is assured.

1967: The 25th Amendment to the United States Constitution is ratified.  I will know nothing of this until President Bartlet’s daughter Zoe is kidnapped and he steps down from office to ensure America cannot be held to ransom.  I have not yet learned to separate fact from fiction.

1968: Something about The Beatles creating Apple; my lifelong abhorrence of insects in fruit is born.

1969: My parents move over the water to Wallasey and open a little grocery shop.

1970: They remember to come back for us.  Our massive Bakelite phone in the stockroom rings; it is a call from Father Christmas.  I have never forgotten it. He has.  Last time I took the boys to see him, I mentioned it and how happy he made me that day, and he looked baffled.

1971: KwikSave open a store just up the road; my parents think about selling up. Profits are down.  I don’t tell them it’s not the supermarket competition, it’s because I send my younger brother into the stock room every night to steal crisps for me.  Laura Ingalls models the character of Nellie Olsen on my younger brother’s big sister.

1972: My family moves to Runcorn.  I have a black & white Runcorn Weekly News photograph to prove it.  Not a lot happens in Runcorn.

1973: I am still living in Runcorn.  Marc Bolan dies.  You join the dots.  I have no sense of time.

1974: Abba win the Eurovision Song Contest with Waterloo and I love it; I have taken my first step on the road to being the uncoolest girl in school.

1975: Unemployment exceeds one million in Britain. Happy days.  The first public performance by The Sex Pistols.  An unknown Hub takes the first step on the road to being the coolest boy in school.  David Beckham is born.

1976: UK drought.  Midges everywhere.  Plagues of ladybirds.  The hottest summer in living memory.  I store the memories because it hasn’t stopped raining since. I have an Abba poster on my bedroom wall.  I am not embarrassed to tell people this.

1977: The Queen’s Silver Jubilee.  The women in our street work for a year playing bingo to raise funds for a street party.  I attend each weekly bingo session with my Mum, who pays all my fees.  When I win a bread board and give it to the first of my elder brother’s many wives, my Mum is a little miffed.  Clearly, she could see into the future and knew that bread board was going to have a temporary home at best.  Marc Bolan dies for real this time.  No one finds that suspicious.

1978: Ethiopia declares the West German Ambassador persona non grata.  Everyone is surprised to learn the Ethiopians speak Latin.

1979:  I am sixteen.  I am sweet.  Literally: my father slices me open and finds I have a malt centre covered in milk chocolate where my stomach used to be.

1980: I become politically aware, rather like SkyNet (or was that self-aware?).  This is not a good thing.  Rather like SkyNet.  The Empire Strikes Back is released.  John Lennon is assassinated. Coincidence…?

1981:  I turn eighteen.  My parents throw me the best party of my generation, all booze supplied free of charge.  To my eighteen year old friends, that’s all that’s needed to qualify for the best party of my generation.  I don’t drink a drop of it, being a good Christian girl.  I finally get tipsy for the first time, three months later, on Christmas Eve.  I fall over a wall and into my house and can’t stop giggling for a week.  I finally see The Empire Strikes Back.  With my Dad, who isn’t talking to my Mum and needs an excuse to get out of the house.

1982: I emigrate to South Africa with my parents and younger brother, much against my will. I sulk.  I meet the Hub on my second day in my new country.  We row a lot.  I could end the story of my life there, because not much has changed.

Related articles

• SkyNET Is Real, And It’s Hunting Your Router (escapistmagazine.com)
• Runcorn Town (thegroundhog.wordpress.com)
• http://tinman18.wordpress.com/2011/09/07/tinman-year-upon-year-part-1/
• http://tinman18.wordpress.com/2011/09/08/tinman-year-upon-year-part-2/
• http://mairedubhtx.wordpress.com/2011/09/03/power-sentences/