Tag Archives: holiday

Wild Children, Published in Silver Apples Magazine, 2015

Wild Children

Cover of Silver Apples magazine No. 5, Oxymorons, 2015

Cover of Silver Apples magazine No. 5, Oxymorons, 2015

In Kilfinane we were known as wild children. And maybe we really were.

What should have been another summer camping trip turned into something completely different. On the first night after arriving in Ireland my parents and my aunt and uncle tried to put up a tent in gale force ten on the banks of a grey and rough lake, while we children, my sister and me, my little brother and my three cousins watched on from the car. We must have arrived late because I remember it being dark. We had camped many times but up until that point had always sought out sunny, southern spots in Italy or Spain, once we went to Yugoslavia but the temperature there proved to be too hot for us. I can’t remember if they eventually got the tent up, as sticks were constantly falling over and the wind got into the canvas a few times nearly taking it out on to the lake.

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Childhood Memories No. 5

The Boys of Kilfinane

© Anita Salemink 2015. Memories No. 5 (Detail) Watercolour 12.5 by 12.5 cm

© Anita Salemink 2015. Memories No. 5 (Detail) Watercolour 12.5 by 12.5 cm

It must have been one of those compulsive urges children have, like when they are walking on a tiled floor and refuse to step on a seam, or — this is the one I struggled with when still a child — walking along a road and hearing a car coming up behind me, I had to run as fast as possible to pass the next street lamp before the car passed me or else I’d get a heart attack and die.

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Childhood Memories No. 4

Wild Children

In Kilfinane we were known as wild children. And maybe we really were.

© Anita Salemink 2015. Memories No. 4 (detail) Watercolour 12.5 by 12.5 cm

© Anita Salemink 2015. Memories No. 4 (detail) Watercolour 12.5 by 12.5 cm

What should have been another summer camping trip turned into something completely different. On the first night after arriving in Ireland my parents and my aunt and uncle tried to put up a tent in gale force ten on the banks of a grey and rough lake, while we children, my sister and me, my little brother and my three cousins watched on from the car. We must have arrived late because I remember it being dark. We had camped many times but up until that point had always sought out sunny, southern spots in Italy or Spain, once we went to Yugoslavia but the temperature there proved to be too hot for us. I can’t remember if they eventually got the tent up, as sticks were constantly falling over and the wind got into the canvas a few times nearly taking it out on to the lake.

Continue reading