Читать книгу Best Day of My Life: True stories to inspire, move and entertain - Told by a cross-section of the UK's celebrities and courageous everyday people - Giles Vickers Jones - Страница 16

Deputy Editor of Heat

I’ve had many great days in my life, but one that sticks out as truly magical was the time when I was eight years old. It was the middle of the school holidays and we were having an Indian summer. Bored of playing on scorching-hot tarmac and the brittle, faded lawns in our close, I asked my mum if I could venture further into the cornfields. The place were the Big Kids played. Every morning I would see them go off like excited explorers, armed with packed lunches and various camp-building paraphernalia, and not return until dusk. I was intensely jealous and used to spend hours sitting on the kerb in front of our house wondering what adventures they were having in those huge, swaying swathes of yellow that encircled our village.

To my surprise, Mum agreed and I set off with my friend Hayley who lived next door. We felt so grown up! Despite promising to stay near the edge of the fields, we soon got lost in the four-foot-high corn as we wandered through, occasionally chasing each other. Eventually, we found ‘our’ spot and it was better than we ever imagined. We made tunnels and camps and built houses complete with kitchens, gardens and bedrooms. Once we’d finished one area, we’d move on. Occasionally shouts and voices would carry across from other kids playing out there but, for most of the day, it felt like we were the only ones in our little world. It was wonderful.

I remember as the light was failing we came across an abandoned shed where a local tramp was rumoured to live. I think his name was ‘One-eyed Bill’ or something. We saw a bundle of black rags in the corner and Hayley made me go in to check them. I remember the abject terror and exhilaration when the rags stirred and something horrible ran out towards us and out the door. Looking back, the pheasant was more scared than us, but at the time we thought it was the ghost of One-eyed Bill – or worse – and ran back through the fields, screaming our heads off. We eventually reached the edge again and decided it was time to go home for dinner.

Compared to many people’s definition of the best day of their life, it must seem mundane and ordinary, but, to me, that is what’s so special. It signified a time of innocence, the simple, happy pursuit of childhood pleasures before life started to be about paying bills and meeting deadlines. I am 32 now and, whenever I am squashed under someone’s armpit on the tube home from work, I think about that halcyon day. It puts a smile on my face.