Open Features: My Arrival - Part Two
...I mean – where you are born and to whom is really just a matter of chance, isn’t it? Finding that you have five fingers, five toes, and every other part in perfect working order when you come into the world is really a great miracle in itself...
Gerry Collins continues his good-humoured account of the earliest of his days.
If I had the power of reasoning following my dramatic entrance into this world, I would have been able to assess my position. But of course that is something I had not yet acquired.
I mean – where you are born and to whom is really just a matter of chance, isn’t it? Finding that you have five fingers, five toes, and every other part in perfect working order when you come into the world is really a great miracle in itself.
I might easily have been born the sixteenth child of a poor family living in a grass hut (a very big one!) in Central Africa, - or perhaps one residing in an igloo in the Arctic Circle. No thanks – I can’t stand the cold!
What about being born onto an Indian Reservation (sorry – Native American)? No! That’s not for me either. I’m allergic to feathers.
Maybe the aristocracy might be nice - the son and heir of 14th Duke of Somewhere? No – I don’t think so. Father would always be out riding with the hounds, or managing the Estate, while Mother would be on dozens of committees, and I would be brought up by a Nanny, who would be very strict, standing for no nonsense from me.
So all in all I hadn’t done to badly. Admittedly my parents were poor, but what they lacked in money they made up for in a warm and loving home. I was quite contented
