This baby was born 17/2/1959 to proud parents Sam and Helen Lewis following a difficult birth (pain in the ass from the off some might say) in a place called Billericay in Essex in the UK. Reports are that this kid took three days from start to finish arriving. Apparently the father was not present – in those days it was not encouraged – and besides transport was more difficult as the family did not have a car. Soccer may also have played a factor contributing to the father missing the last bus.
The baby was named Jeffrey. A quick google search suggests that life should have proceeded smoothly around this child - The boy's name Jeffrey is pronounced JEF-ree. It is of Old German origin. Probably refers to "peace."
However, if you dig deeper it is possible that there was likely to be more to life for this child than met the eye. This can be seen from recent posts to a website which enables people to comment on people of the same name. If we can accept that trends can exist through time then there is a suggestion that life for a child with this name would not always be that smooth.
Name translation for Jeff
Name: melissa posted on 13/06/2005
really ugly<< so true
Name: Ciara posted on 23/11/2005
Jeff is a lying cheating dirtbag who deserves to have his balls kicked into his stomach... wait... he doesnt have any!!
Name: Sarah posted on 19/12/2005
I have an ex named Jeff; he really was a lying, cheating dirt bag and he was really ugly
http://www.nametranslation.co.uk/names/meaning/showdetails.asp?mid=82
None of the above relate to me (at least i dont think so) but you get my drift.
Also, you need to read Billy Connolly to understand the importance of names with the EE sound on the end of them – try it out loud. I usually get called Jeff unless I am in trouble and that is where the EE sound comes in handy. It can be used over very long distances with great effect.
My recollection of my own childhood is quite limited but there were a few highlights/lowlights that I do remember.
I was a sickly kid really – suffering from Asthma and as a result I was always on the small side. I lived from birth until about 9 years of age in England in a town called Basildon. I went to school there until I was about eight/nine. I am not sure why but almost all of my childhood memories are generally based on health/injury or of “bad things”.
I have strong memories of traveling on the bus with my mum to London to visit hospital for tests and of sharing Vesta curry from a pack when we got home. The other enduring memory of these trips was spending time doing puzzles. It is possible this that lead me to develop a capacity for solving problems.
I remember going to hospital for some minor surgery on my penis and of spending time (3 weeks) in hospital with my head held still by sandbags after getting hit in the eye by a stone (which I was not supposed to be throwing). It appears that I was lucky to keep my eye. However, my sight in my left eye was permanently and quite severely damaged (less than 20% vision and then only peripherally). This has undoubtedly contributed to me being a bit one-eyed on many things throughout life.
Other things I remember are nearly getting hung by my sisters (and unknown girl friends) when I tried to run through the rope they had tied to a pole and were using for skipping. My recollection of this event were that the rope was pulled tight when I attempted to run through it, I remember looping through the air as my feet vanished from under me and crashing to the ground. My neck bore the rope burn mark from ear to ear for a week or two.
Yes I did have a sister – her name is Nicola and she has generally been known as Nicky all of her life. She has the EE sound as well you will note. She was born several years after me and she was and remains a mummy’s girl (much to her credit). She gave my mum the love she undoubtedly did not/does not always get from me.
My recollections of our life together as kids are also fairly limited – she was a girl and all little boys have strong negative feeling for all little girls and especially their sisters. We used to share baths together because we had to. It was during one of these baths that an incident occurred which lead to one of the only times I can ever remember my dad laying a hand on me. We had had our bath and been arguing and I had tried to get out of the bathroom. In doing this I pulled the door back and promptly pealed the nail on one of her big toes back so it was standing up at 90 degreed to her toe – not a pretty sight. She started to squeal as only girls can and dad appears like a nano-second later. He bursts into the bathroom takes one look at her and whacks me – my recollection is that I sailed across the bathroom and ended up on the floor between the bath and the toilet crumpled in a heap.
One of the good memories I have around my sister is being a super hero for her after she dropped a rug out of the landing window onto the porch which was over the front door. I climb out of the window to retrieve said blanket, but being a small and weakly kind of superhero I could not haul my small arse back into the house. Picture superhero stood 8-9 feet off ground with no where to go but down. What does he do – uses blanket for cape and jumps (pretty heroic really) and crashes onto ground just as mother comes out of front door. Crumples into a heap with two very bruised but fortunately not broken ankles. Superhero lives to fight another day – what an idiot.
Generally, as kids we were free to play on the streets late into the night (1000pm) on summer nights and I remember playing soccer on the street with other boys from around the area. I also remember playing soccer on weekends – my dad obviously got me into this as a boy. We often played on waterlogged muddy pitches with leather balls which when wet would fit to your face when you went to head them (if you were brave enough) often leaving the lace mark on your head.
I remember exploring with mates and falling out of an apple tree into a thorn bush – result scratched from head to foot, except where the shorts and tee-shirt provided some limited protection. I also once fell through ice on a lake I remember it was a struggle to get myself out of the water.
While my memories are based on “momentous” events in the life of a kid my recollection is that I had a good childhood. My mum and dad provided well for us. There was always food on the table and clothes on our back (mum was an excellent seamstress and knitter). I don’t remember there being too many arguments and I don’t recall too much punishment. I don’t remember much about school, except it was not far from where we lived and it was near the sweet shop. I don’t remember if I did any good but I do remember having the misfortune of crapping my pants one day in year one – how embarrassing – not sure why. I also remember making the school soccer team (I must have been ok).
We had holidays, traveling to Cornwall where one of my aunties lived and went to the beach. It was on one of these holidays dad took me fishing in a row boat with a couple of other people. We got about 500m off the beach and dropped lines into the water. Next thing I remember is dad telling me to get my line in the boat. I did not really understand why until a big dark shape came alongside the boat (it was sticking out either end of the boat). England is not a place you typically relate with sharks but here we were sitting in a small boat next to a very large shark. The next scenes were probably quite funny if you weren’t in the boat. Adult starts rowing back to shore shouting shark and promptly rows the boat about three strokes up the beach – I didn’t even get my feet wet climbing out of the boat. Turns out the shark was a Basking Shark which only eats plankton. But as dad told the guy in the tackle shop the next day it had a mouth big enough to take your arm off.
Generally I remember being a relatively good kid but others may choose to differ. I am sure my childhood has shaped my adulthood and I know that my mum and dad played a significant role in this. I don’t remember anyone else during this phase of my life having any significant impact. I had grandparents but we did not see them often.
My life was to change for ever when my parents made a decision to migrate to Australia. They sold everything and we all got on a boat and moved to Australia.
I will revisit this post, if and when I recall other events worthy of note.
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