My Sunday Photo 30th June 2019 – The Stream

The Stream

It was a lovely sunny day and school was over. Graham asked the Little Man if he wanted to go to the park to play in the stream. How could he say no.

They always make a bee-line for the stream on sunny days, fascinated by water. Last year they built a damn from sticks, The Little Man had loads of fun.

This year it was their first visit but still it was fun dangling a stick in the water. It was warm so Graham suggested taking their shoes off and going for a paddle in the stream; and so they did.

They paddled, feeling the cool water rushing between their toes. And cooling down on a very hot day. What fun they had.

My Stream

On Sunday afternoons, Mum would prepare Sunday lunch and pop off to visit her Mum. Then Dad was free to visit the pub for a pint before lunch. He’d take me with him, it was much more fun than sitting in Nan’s kitchen.

The Pub he took me to had fields at the back with horses. If you held out some grass they’d come over to the fence for a nibble and let you stroke their heads. Then Dad would give me some pennies for a packet of crisps and a bottle of pop in the outdoor on the side of the pub. While he would pop into the pub for a pint of beer. We’d sit on the wall outside and enjoy our ‘picnic.’ Then, if it was warm enough, we’d go through the trees and visit the stream.

The photo above is the actual stream, well, it’s actually a brook. The little metal footbridge is still there. I would sit on the bridge and dangle my feet towards the water, but they didn’t reach.

Memories

At the far left of the photo you can just about see a dip, this led down to a little sandy area, which to me, an excited six year old, was like a mini beach. I’d rip off my socks and shoes and carefully place them on a rock then excitedly rush to water for a paddle. Feeling that lovely cool water wash between my toes. Turning back to my Daddy who was sat on a nearby bench and calling out that I’d seen a frog. There were teeny tiny fish in there too. I loved that little place, it wasn’t much but it was special.

Too soon it was time to go back and pick up Mum so she could finish Sunday dinner. I can’t remember any conversations I had with my Dad, he was a quiet man. I just remember that special bond that we had.

I’ve not been back to that stream since my Dad passed away just a couple of years later. Somehow, I don’t think it would be anywhere near as magical as I imagined it to be and I don’t want to bear the disappointment.

Memories are magical and nothing makes me happier knowing that my boy is making special memories with his Dad just like I did with mine.