I keep my childhood safe in an old green-lidded shoebox, the safe brown cardboard sides reminiscent of all those art projects and crafts, from cardboard houses to trees to ships. Everything came pouring straight out of my overactive imagination like water out of a tap, flowing pure and clean. If anyone of you is wondering whether I am a closet romantic, then you are excellent judges of character.
Like Mr Darling in Peter Pan who kept his dreams in a drawer, I sometimes take down the box from the high cupboard and admire its contents. As I open the lid, the half-forgotten adventures and old friends come to life, materializing right before my eyes. I hated most toys, so I improvised my own. Lengths of knotted string transform into glamorous, devil-may-care heroines, patterned silk handkerchiefs billow out into parachutes, a wad of discarded wrapping paper with drawn-in features becomes a stringy-haired fairy, followed by the toys.
I wonder whether the cold heartless CEOs in their minimalist offices, surrounded by secretaries and employees ever thought that a cheap, mass produced plaything could come to mean a whole few years of carefree fun. Two monkeys become an evil scientist and a superhero, followed by a tie-less Harry Potter and the stooping crumpled figure of a brown mouse in a green cap, which hobbles out- Jerry, my oldest and best friend, whom I almost lost at the beach. My father had to offer a little girl a bribe- a ten-pound note for a sodden, trembling mouse.
My childhood washes over me- almost ten years of carefree innocence, pent up into a shoebox for a few years, only to wash over me again. My shrewdness, problems- all the masks I put on fall off, the fastenings undone and the knots untied. I am my seven-year-old self, returning to those blessed sunny afternoons in my old kingdom-the garden and the flat wide roof and terraces of our home, the backdrop to the great adventures I had. It is getting late and I must soon return them to the stasis they lie in, back in the depths of the big dark cupboard. However it gets harder to close the lid as time goes by.
