I’ve mention before that I grew up on Bovril unlike every other Aussie kid who thrived on Vegemite. Papa would have been pretty pleased when he saw this giant Bovril sign in Piccadilly Circus when he was in London in 1964. I managed to find a photo of the corner looking as it does today but it’s just too boring and sad to show you. That little Eros Theatre on the right was gutted and turned into a Gap which just about breaks my heart.
You might have seen this one before but you can see it again because
a: I was so damn cute and
b: it’s my birthday and I can do what I want
Here I am going to the beach and everyone better keep out of my way because I’ve got my bucket and my board and nothing’s going to stop me – (and it says world govt on the wall I think, not world gout). Good lord my mother sure knew how to make a pair of swimmers last for years, you just wore them big to start with then grew into them. Being the youngest of three girls I’m sure a few of mine were already pre loved by my sisters before I even got my scrawny little body into them.
So happy birthday little me from big me. I don’t really remember you but you look like a tough, determined little girl who didn’t care what people thought of your dress sense and you’d be pleased to know that I’ve carried those qualities on for you – and I’m still kind of cute as well.
This and that in black and white from the fifties.
Dubbo Show – everyone here is waiting for the Queen to arrive.
This is Nan and Paps front yard after the floods which I think were in 1955
Here’s dad patting or feeding a kangaroo and I’m pretty certain this would have been at the Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary in Queensland which I haven’t been to myself and it probably costs a fortune for entry now anyway. In this photo it would have only been open for about five years.
Mum looking thoughtful in the Hotel garden.
This is Vera, we were related to her somehow but I’ve never really been sure how – my sister would know as she and my other sister were closer to her. She lived in Sydney but used to enjoy coming to visit my grandparents and doing a spot of fishing out at the river on the property of another couple who were related to us in a way I never really knew.
The Ivan Franko was a Russian cruise ship built in Germany in 1964. It was named after the Ukranian poet of the same name. There were five ships built and named after Russian authors). That’s my grandmother on the right with two other ladies looking pretty happy about getting on it and it would have been pretty flash because this was in 1964 so it was brand spanking new. It used to cruise between Odessa in the Ukraine and Kingstown in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines (which is somewhere in the Caribbean Sea).
It was scrapped in 1997.