Wednesday, 28 August 2013

60's something

I was younger than I would like to have been in the 60's. Now I'm older than I'd like to be, but at least I'm not as old as I would be if I had been as old as I would like to have been in the 60's.

Back then my parents had parties for every special occasion.

They played vinyls on a record player that skipped when they fox trotted too heavily on the wooden floor in our lounge room.

My Aunty Pat would always arrive looking wonderful and stayed that way until the end.

Dad and my Aunty Pat

Aunty Pat was a great hostess, Always gorgeous and up to date with fashion. When Aunty Pat sported the latest beehive hairdo I had to copy.

I didn't know why my mother was amused when, on the morning of one of my Aunt's visits, I emerged from the bathroom with a bouffant that could have hidden half a dozen of her apple tarts within its intriguing puff.

Perhaps she spied the scrunched up comic section of the Sunday paper under the thin layer of hair on top of my beaming eight years young face.

I thought I looked as cool as Aunty Pat did.

I was twice teased that day.

Saturday, 17 August 2013

Pony Express

Many years ago, A long time agoWhen I was a little girl, When I was young, my mother often took me to visit my cousin in Lewisham.

My cousin had a rocking horse.

Not one of the small ones like in the picture above but one of those closer to the size of the real thing when you're four.

You know the ones. It was so big it was supported by a heavy wooden base and had strong metal struts through to a wooden brace from one end to the other - and real stirrups! It was made of wood and had a leather saddle and a rope mane and tail.

Hey, it was kinda like this one

Photo from Instructibles in the U.K.

I remember climbing up onto it after curiosity took over my fear.
I can still imagine embracing it's neck and the endless rhythm and sound of metal grinding as I urged that thing on and on.
I remember that after a while I pushed that pony to it's limit and it was heading for the door.

Of course all too quickly I grew up and rode real horses, live ones that bolted for home when it was time.

Now I think it must be terribly frustrating to be a rocking horse, standing in one spot and going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and to imagine a real horse behaving in such a manner is downright silly.

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