Eeny Meeny

42

Japan? Australia? Mexico?

We had a globe when we were kids. One that lit up. God knows why or where we got it from. We weren’t an educated bunch and my mother’s geography extended as far as the nearest offy. But I loved that globe. It was the seat of all my fantasies. Running your hand over its smooth surfaces, jumping continents in seconds, it was easy to imagine that I was free.

I imagined myself hitching a lift to the port, knapsack filled with provisions – Jammie Dodgers a must – for a long journey. I’d climb up the slippery anchor chain, with links as large as your whole body, and once on board slip into the lifeboat and under cover. My body would thrill as I felt the giant vessel moving clear of land and, as it journeyed across oceans and past continents, I would be safe and snug in my little hidey-hole.

Eventually, we’d land in some far-off, exotic location. I’d slide down the chain and plant my feet on new ground. My new ground. The start of a whole new adventure.

Sometimes fantasy veered dangerously close to reality. I’d take a couple of plastic bags and fill them with cheese triangles, Club biscuits and a mildewed sleeping bag.

And I’d slip out the door, closing it gently behind me. Along the pissy walkway and down on to the street. Freedom.

But something – or someone – always brought me back home before I’d got off the estate.

You always brought me back.