Earliest memory

I had for a long time believed that my earliest memory was of drowning in the sea at Newquay. On holiday there with my parents, my Dad had taken me down to the beach to let me trot around on the sand, and for some reason lost focus and let me gallop down to the sea.

Every seventh wave is a big one at Newquay, or so family lore has it. I remember none of this, as my earliest memory was of being swept up by a giant wave, and dragged out to sea face down. All I remember is salt, sand, seaweed and plenty of panic.

The family account is that I had stood at the edge of the sea, was caught in a giant wave and washed out like a log. My dad waded in and pulled me back out, and a group of teenagers pointed and laughed. The pay-off is that the next wave was even bigger, swamped the teens and dragged all of their clothes out to sea. I have no memory of any of this.

My mum reports that she had been back home at the caravan, and the first she knew about it was when my Dad appeared back at the caravan, holding me dripping wet at arms length, and she was like, Oh FFS.

I say I thought this was my earliest memory, but my Mum recently reported that this whole escapade was particularly annoying for her as I'd just had stitches put in the back of my head after splitting my head open, and I wasn't supposed to get the stitches wet. I remember this injury very clearly - my brother was teaching me a game where you jump off a dry stone wall and into the rusting brown wheel barrow. Instead I learned that dry stone walls are very unstable, wheelbarrows are very hard and that a great deal of blood can pump out of the back of your head.

I remember this memory very well as I have to tell if every month, when I get my hair cut and the barber sees the scars on the back of my head.

[Estimated time: Summer 1979]