Category: Time

Living In The 70s (Part 2)

That last post got a big response, so here’s some more. Again, I’ll try to put these in chronological order…

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This has to be one of the earliest photos taken of me. It’s still in PNG, which means I was only weeks old. My head looks strange and deformed, and frankly I don’t like looking at me here. Mum’s in a great mood though, and Bernard seems excited by something he’s seen out of frame. Given the location, it was probably a cannibal or a dinosaur. I think the native women are using one of those ye olde washing machines in the bakckground.

1972 in Oma's unit

Here we are in Germany now, sitting with Oma, Dad’s mum. This is 1972, Bernard was 1 and I was 0. During the trip last year we sat for a meal at this very table, so this photo is particularly nostalgic for me now. As usual, Bernard’s smile is eye-to-eye! I wonder what we had just eaten? Probably beer and sausages, knowing the Germans!

May 1974

An interesting photo, which seems to suggest I may have been less than honest when I claimed our only toys were scissors and cups the other day. And yet I can’t actually recall either of these two vehicles. Bernard’s is manly and robust and he rides one-handed it like a warrior. Mine is spindly and effeminate and I ‘ride’ it like I need to go to the loo! I wonder if these were ours or belonged to someone else, and if they were ours what happened to them?

Holiday at the Warrumbungle National Park in Jan. 1975

An ‘action shot’ of me during a family trip to the Warrumbungles in the mid 1970s. This is testing the limits of my memory here, since looking at these photos ancient memories are stirred. We stayed in those cabins (actually converted trams) you can see in the background, and did a lot of walking and exploring the nearby area. I think there was also a massive thunder storm one night, and this may have even been the trip when a goanna got into our cabin? In the photo I’m using a remarkably sophisticated bucket to fill our inflatable pool, despite said pool being immediately adjacent to the tap! I loved the water in those days, and would wallow happily for hours in the sun.

January 1975

I believe the above was during the same trip, and is one of the best photos from my childhood years. Yes mum, B and I are featured, and we look snazzy and happy. But look at that awesome dinosaur! Here is where it all started, and the road I started walking that fateful day would eventually lead to results like this. I did some research to try and found out where exactly this was taken and whether it still exists, but came up empty.

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I think we’re wearing our ‘Sunday best’ here, which raises the question of how we looked the remainder of the week. Bernard’s shirt beggars belief, and he looks distinctly uncomfortable as he tries to hide the candy bar he’s holding. I’m standing there defiantly wearing my press-button short sleeved checkered shirt tucked into elastic velvet brown pants and trying not to appear cold on a winters day. As I more effectively hide my candy behind my back, my face suggests I knew that years later my clothing would appear absurd, but I didn’t care anyway. Note how shiny our bowl-cut hairstyles are, the result of Johnson & Johnson Baby Shampoo, which we used during our formative years. I think this was taken in Gregson Park, possible after a post-Nan trip to that awesome lolly shop that used to be on Beaumont Street.

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Moving from the ridiculous to the sublime here, and fast-forwarding about 10 years as well. It’s 1987 here, and we (aged 16 and 15) are holding cats at least half as old as us. Bernard, in his dramatic grey-blue ensemble, cradles Boris, who was aloof and mysterious and shy. The edges of her ears show evidence of the cancer that would eventually take her from us, but she lived a long and happy life. I, sporting a white rolled-up-sleeve white shirt and knit tie, am wielding Louis, seen again many years after the shot from the other day. The dirt on his paws gives away his tenure as an outdoor cat, but ‘Soccerball’ was a friendly beast, and would come when called. I recall I used to name the cats, except for Louis who we got when I was very young. The names were slightly unusual (Boris, Sarah, Nelson, Momus) but never catlike. They all had particular origins as well. Maybe one day I’ll blog that.

Incidentally we dressed to look our very best for this photo (and other in the series, which I have blogged before). In 1987, these were the best clothes we had!

As for the hairstyles, what can be said? Looking back now it’s hard to imagine I wasn’t influenced by Grace Jones in Conan The Destroyer, but at the same time it’s terrifying to think I may have been. In truth I had an outrageous hair stylist named Ford Lamonte (this is true) who suggested crazy styles to me, to which I almost always said ‘Yes’. This was one of them, and would be followed shortly by the blonde hair and then the weird front rat-tail. Bernard hair is less spectacular, but you’ll note the prominent curl. He’ll probably deny it if you ask him, but that wasn’t by accident, and he spent hours every day carefully arranging it so he would look as much like Christopher Reeve’s Superman as possible πŸ˜‰

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My high school graduation. The fanciest I have ever dressed. I recall I found it quite uncomfortable, but looking back now it doesn’t look half bad. In this getup I had to (ballroom) dance and give a speech (which I did off the cuff with minimal preparation). Immediately afterwards a few friends and me – still dressed in our fancy togs – went on an all-night road trip from the Newcastle beaches to the upper Hunter and back again. We broke on through to the other side, and ended up chatting with grizzled drunken sailors in a seedy hunter street pub at sunrise. That was a good night.

I wish I had more – many more! – photos from those years, but sadly do not. I can only wonder what sorts of events-long-forgotten would be revealed had we taken a camera with us.

Living In The 70s

I rediscovered some old photos! I don’t think I’ve blogged any of these ones before. I’m going to try to do these in chronological order but since they’re undated I’ll probably get a few incorrect. I apologize for the small size of these, but image uploading to the blog is a bit wonky so I had to downsize them πŸ™

Bernard and Robert are carried around Sister Ines's sewing room.

This was obviously taken in PNG, in some sort of sewing workshop? You can see both Bernard and myself being held by two of the women in the front right, as they examine material with a nun. It’s a beautiful shot; I wonder who took it and why?

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Mum’s passport photo, taken not long after I was born in 1972. The impression on the lower right is because it was scanned from the passport. Bernard’s titanic head suggests extraterrestrial DNA.

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A bit of a curiosity. I recognize the furniture in the background, but don’t know from where. Basically I don’t know where or exactly when this was taken, or the name of the cat Bernard is holding! My body looks creepy, like a child weightlifter. Look at my stubby hands!

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Our family, in the mid 70s. Bernard and I look like little Aryan’s don’t we? My hair was a lot lighter when I was young. I’m holding a small rubber animal, one from a set that I still own some from to this very day. Mum’s holding one of the old tin/steel coke cans, and Bernard’s shorts are pulled up way too high.

May 1974

At the flat in Gateshead, again mid 1970s. We were poor in those days, and the only toys we had were a plastic cup and a pair of scissors. Despite this, mum managed to dress us like a pair of kings. I like my little shoes.

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A few years later. I’d graduated from overalls to suspenders, and we’d both moved into our ‘glam rock hairstyle’ phases. The third person in this photo was a very dear friend of ours named Louis, who was a human-sized cat. He was a true urban king; a wild and wirey beast that ruled the neighbourhood for meters around our home. I hope he looks at this photo from cat heaven and purrs with happiness πŸ™‚

Oct '79

An unfortunately blurry photo, but I believe the only one I have of my First Holy Communion. This was probably 1979 or 1980. There’s a lot to love about this shot, not the least that apparently Mr Spock had dropped by to congratulate me. I like my tie, and fondly remember this as the last day I ever wore pressed pants.

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Leaping forward ten years now, to about 1990. This is me, dad and Sue. And I’m cooking. Cooking like a boss. Snags I reckon; maybe an onion or two. This is obviously on the lake, possible Valentine or Speer’s Point, and I’m guessing winter judging by the clothing. I don’t remember the event at all, and this seems to be the only photo that was taken. I’d kill for one of those snags right now…

I’ve got more like these. Should I post them?

Happy Birthday To Me

It’s my birthday today. Hooray! Happy Birthday to me πŸ™‚

I was talking to someone about naming children, and how they had great difficulty doing just that. For me the choice was always easy: a boy would be called Hercules (or Herakles); a girl Momo. But I suppose some really stress over it, evidenced by the library of books and websites intended to help you name your child.

I’m lucky in that 44 years ago my parents selected well. My name is strong and regal, and impresses everyone I meet. “That man”, they think, “has the name of a king.” If I could rename myself, I wouldn’t change a thing!

My parents once told me I was named after one of Dad’s relatives – an uncle I think – and had I been a girl my name would have been Irmgarde. Here’s a photo of me if I had turned out as Irmgarde:

Face of a beautiful brunette woman

The gentlemen would have been queuing at the door!

It’s a good story but I have long had my doubts. For decades now I have believed I was actually named after someone else. Specifically one of these guys:

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Consider the evidence:

1) Mum was always a rabid Sesame Street fan
2) This pair was ‘born’ in 1969, and first on Australian TV in late 1970
3) My brother was born early 1971 – less than 4 months after Sesame Street first aired
4) Both my and my brothers names are the full versions of the names of this pair
5) Both me and (especially) my brother bear strong physical resemblances to these dignified muppets:

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Putting aside the fact that my parents were in Papua New Guinea at the time (and more likely to spot a dinosaur than a television), this evidence seems incontrovertible.

So next time someone tells you that Irmgarde story, you can nod knowingly and say “cool story bro” while inwardly smiling at the truth behind my name πŸ™‚