The life story, one more time: Chapter One: The First traveling Years

"My life history", by Michael Riversdale aged 37 and a bit
(from the mikey_boyle Yahoo! Website, all those years ago)

Anything that I may have said about anybody is totally my memory/impression - anyone wants me to change/delete it then I will without hesitation, simply leave a comment If you find any links that no longer work again, just leave a comment.

Chapter One: The First traveling Years

On the evening of March 11th, 1967 to Derek and Betty Boyle in Devizes, Wiltshire (yap born in England!) the gift of a healthy bouncing baby boy. This little cherub, that somehow through life changed into the fallible normal guy you now know, they named Michael Alan Boyle. Mum chose the first name (from where I don't know) as the deal was boys to be named by Mum and girls named by Dad. Although Dad never got his chance due to the birth of my brother, named Robert Derek Boyle he did get to pass on his middle name to me and his first name to Rob - so all's fair in love and birth.

And why was I born in Wiltshire despite Mum being from Monmouth, Wales and Dad a cockney lad (called Del Boy of course) from West Ham, London - Dad was stationed there with the RAF , and that's that. My memories of Devizes - none, as we were then moved, by the RAF I think, to Malta in the Mediterranean. And my only recollections of these times are sitting on a wall overlooking some large city below, and that might be taken from a picture I think my parents have. So, by the age of two I had lived in 2 countries and can't remember any of it - and thus set off a trait that is still with me, crap memory.

Around 1970 we went back to the UK whilst mum was pregnant with Robert and we lived for a time in Melksham, Wiltshire. After a time there (about 15 months) and by the age of four or five I was living in Swaziland, a country surrounded by South Africa. I had gained a brother and was now walking, talking and going to school where I was nicknamed "Smiler" due to me having to constantly squint in the blazing sun. I also can remember more - multi-coloured lightning, rain nearly flooding the house, a large spider at the bottom of the garden, making mealie bread with the housekeeper Mary and helping the houseboy Joseph make a "hut" in the garden. And of course the heat, the dryness and the dust. Oh, and years later I discovered what Dad was really doing there ... hee hee.

And the final trip before going back to the UK was from Johannesburg to Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. Yep a total paradise! As it was a French colony I learned to speak French to a reasonable degree and went to an RAF school (I think) at which I met my first remembered friend, Angus. We got stuck whilst scaling palm trees and played in the rubbish tip next door (which was also the rubbish tip for a local restaurant into which they threw their old lobsters, fish etc - and that's why I don't like sea food, can still smell the stench!). It was also here that I discovered girls and remember playing, "You show me yours and I'll show you mine" ... and we did, ha ha ha.

In 1974/5 we returned to the UK (I remember getting the BOAC flight - and I receiving the kiddies pack) in time to start my chicken pox.

Here I was, new home of Monmouth, Gwent in Wales, new friends and all that 1976 could throw at us - punk, Queens Jubilee and that summer). And that brings us to the end of this chapter.


Chapter Two: The Monmouth School Days >
Also related to this is my 'Life soundtrack: Side One"