Garage Finds

Another year, another skip.

But i think this may be our last!

When we moved here 8years ago there was a lot of clearing to do .. and it's been ongoing ..
we've pulled up rocks and ivy and slabs of concrete that may have been garden borders in
the older days (?) ( http://house-n-baby.blogspot.com.au/2007/03/what-lies-beneath.html )

This time it's post-renovation leftovers .. bricks .. random bits of wood and crap the
builders left citing 'oh hold onto that, you might need it'. 

Um no, we're not hoarders, thanks, this is trash.

There's also the random boxes of things you pack up and then never look at again. 
To be truthful, I didn't think I held on to anything any more, but it seems I do.

First up, last night, an old copy of Epicure Traveller, the Spanish issue!  ( Oct 2008 )
Only last week I was perusing some Spanish cookbooks online and hover over the
"press buy' button .. so this was a fab discovery :D





Then the wedding dress.  This box has moved house 6 times and been through 2 renovations. 

The top of it got crunched in when it became a cat-bed at one stage, and to be honest,
after 8yrs in the garage, i've been too scared to pop open the lid lest a plague of
pestilence rushes me.  Quelle horreur!
( or, to keep with the Spanish theme: ¿Qué horror )

BUT!

it seemed ok?!






Maybe it's whatever they clean the damn things in, but there was no evidence of bug activity,
no poops, no chomps.  The horrid stains ( not evident after the wedding ) were caused by a
reaction of champagne with drycleaning fluids, so even the stains are well preserved. 
I was pretty impressed actually.


But now, what to do with it??






I googled the designer, she's still frocking on and I liked her new stuff too, which was nice :)





I also found some old Print Award books .. I thought I threw all those out too. 
Seems i'd used the couple i'd kept to file away old drawings and poems.

Most of the poems are very deep, and some .. not so much, and more like ditties.





I wasn't a MJ fan, btw, so i'm thinking I was being tongue-in-cheek witty here. 
Such a laugh, chortle, chortle, chortle, ho!


.. and a drawing of my feet. 





I used to draw my feet a lot ( and cats! ). 
The reason being is because i'm not very good at watching movies unless i'm doing stuff ..
so with my feet propped out in front, or a handy cat lounging nearby, I could sit still long
enough to watch a movie, and add to my 'drawing of my own feet' collection. 

Random photograph is one of AB's old rellies.  We think.  Nothing written on the back.


There's also a heap of my diaries naturally, and letter and notes.  I tried to tease AB with
a note I found from another dude with fabulous handwriting and yet bad spelling
( apparently I have increadible eyes ), but he knows my days of being a temptress are
long gone and no-one's gonna come knocking to steal me away any time soon. 

Old age is a Poo-bah to foiling my teasing.

And this is how it went..

I have had my first day off in FOREVER today!


I have been shooting kinder kids week in week out,
which sees me anywhere from Epping to Clayton to Tullamarine and McKinnon
or Doreen on any given week, and then I honoured a commitment to work last weekend
at the Toddler & Baby Show for a friend.

The kids have been shuffled, favours begged and dinners of toast and beans are a go-go.





Here's How My Day Off Went ( pretty delightfully, although maybe i'm easy pleased! ):


6.00am -
wake up and realise it's a beautiful day and I don't have to be in traffic to some exotic* location

6.05am - wee, and go back to bed
( sorry, but the rest of this story is PG, even is wee isn't. What is wee rated anyway? )

7.00am -
Rise. Inform children that NO, they can't "have a day off" and placate older with a lunch order.
Feel like a Lord.

7.00 - 8.30am -
everyone does their stuff without yelling**

8.30am -
realise kinder starts at 8.30am, not 8.45am as thought.
Fang it to kinder. Arrive 2mins late, but safe.

8.45am -
Drop off older boy, feeling happy

9.00am -
Priceline. I haven't shopped for me in AGES and I have no face powder and the foundation
is low.  I also buy hairspray, dry shampoo, an eyeliner from the 80's on sale for $2 I want
to recapture my youth with ( it's blue ) and a sparkle nailpolish.

Feel happy.

9.30am -
( Guessing the time because i have to BE NOWHERE! ) - pop on down to Target.
I have torn a heap of my skirts on various sharp things lately, and anyone that knows me
knows I love the skirt. Unfortunately, no skirts for me today, but there's a perfect dress ..
if I could cut off the bodice and fit the skirt part to the hips i'd be so freaking happy, it's gorgeous.

I tell the salesgirl about my friend who is rather handy with a sewing machine.
I try on several bigger sizes to fit the skirt part on my HIPS, rather than high on the waist as
the dress dictates. I find the right size. I wonder if my friend can do this?
I plan to ask her, and if not, return the dress.

I love Target.

10.00-10.30am-
pop out of dressing room to see said friend at the counter, paying for something. I yell out.
The assistant says "oh, is this your friend you were telling me about?"

Fluke.

10.30-11.30am -
we hit a few Oppies together and even Coles. We share the bulk buy on Zooper Doopers.
Suddenly the grocery shopping burden is no longer heavy. 
We buy matching Olive Baguettes at Baker's Delight.  Alas, we part for kindy pickup.

12.00pm -
Arrive home to put perishables in fridge.  Scoff a salad while on facebook chatting. 
Realise I have 15minutes to get to Spotlight before Kinder pickup and I really need that
iron-one mending stuff for my skirts.  Zoom it on over

12.15pm -
Get stopped in aisle by lady that wants to chat.  Overhelp to the point we probably should
start dating and sync menses.  Rush off for pickup

12.25pm -
Fang down the Nepean ( abiding road rules ) and make it to the kindy 2minutes overtime. 
Last kid there, but not by much.  The following conversation ensues:


Them: And Leanne, if you could just watch the times for pickup?
Me: Huh?
Them: Your husband was 15minutes late the other day***
 Me: Oh really? Well, I hope you discussed it with him?
( I know they did, so shaming me is pointless, plus, we are not repeat offenders, lately it's been hard )
Them: And your son didn't eat his lunch today ( serious raised eyebrows )
Me *Shrug*
Them: He says he doesn't like jam sandwiches ( who does, seriously?  yuck! )
Me: That's all there was, I haven't been home all week and there's no food in the house,
so we do the best with what we've got.
Them: What does he like to eat?
Me: Tuna and Egg. You know, all the stuff we can't eat here?****
Me: So I give him meat and sauce every day he comes here because I know he will eat it
Them: Yes, that's what he said he liked
Me: Buuuut, we were out, so jam it was. Come on Buddy, let's go!


Seriously.  Well, i'll leave it at that. 

I've photographed at so many LOCAL kinders lately ( including the one my older boy went to,
and I should have picked again and the vibe is just so much more relaxed. ). 
Yes, I understand the allergy situation, but couple that with their "no junk food / no sandwich
until you eat a piece of fruit first" ( we aren't a fruity family but my kids eat strawberries
and apples by the bucketful .. BUT .. they hate them in lunchboxes PLUS we have wobbly teeth,
so now apples are hurties  ) and Mondays are fruit-only and BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. 
So many rules!  So many distainful looks and I don't even feed my kids junk!  I don't understand!! 

I feel very judged for not being a full-time mum I guess .. that I sometimes have to farm out
my pickups ( OMG, the time I cleared a family friend for pickup and all was good,
but then she got a drilling until someone stepped in to save her  - hello!? )

1.30pm-3.30pm -
check gardens, enjoy sunshine

3.30pm -
School pickup. 

4.00pm - chomp on Olive bread from Baker 's Delight with Eggplant & Garlic Dip.
Seriously Divine, and all the niggles just wash away, wash away :)









*we travel anywhere in Melbourne, even places we haven't heard of yet

** I forgot to check teeth.  Were teeth brushed?  There possibly should have been yelling

*** it's true, but they already berated him.  Am I my husband?  No. 
       Are we ever normally late?  No.

**** ok, its true that my kids really do like tuna and egg and these things are not allowed
         at kinder and I UNDERSTAND THAT, .. but it really limits my lunch options with a
         fussy eater, so please, don't give me shit about our limited lunches, ok? 
         I pack the SAME thing every day and it bores the crap out of me too, but everything is
         banned.  Our kinder lunchbox is:  meat&sauce sandwich, plain popcorn sans
         illegal packaging, carrot sticks ( acceptable fruit substitute my kids eat ) and sultanas. 
         A mum recently mentioned to me about the homemade sushi she had packed - it was
         the avocado/cucumber/rice/seaweed wrapper kind and her child was told no he couldn't
         eat it.  They COOK things on premises they are not allowed to EAT on premises
         due to allergies.  It's insane.

         Picking a 'safe' lunchbox that meets all the rules without getting in trouble and repeating
         it for 12months .. not insane.


But besides that one niggle where I was made to feel like a lesser parent
( I wish i'd mentioned the road traffic game we played the other day where they encourage
children to weave through traffic to collect a BALL kicked onto the ROAD, OMG?! ) ..
all the parents standing next to me whispering to their sweet babies "you know,
we never chase balls onto roads EVER, ok?  We can always buy another ball, but there is
only ever one you, don't ever do this ok?" , and yet a jam sandwich is being  a bad mother.

Life is weird.  The older I get, the more weirdos I meet :)

But it was largely a GOOD DAY! :D .. and this Olive Baguette is DA BOMB!  xx

Smells like Teen Spirit

Time Out from sorting the garage.  A lot of books going to the local Oppie.
If anyone wants to know What to Expect when Expecting, let me know.


Found my diary from 1983, according to the 'prologue' at the start I am slightly
overweight with shoulder-length brown hair and "pretty popular". 
I like reading, collecting swap cards and autographs, photography and 'all music'. 
I am in Year 8 in High School.

My handwriting is appalling, and I seem to like to use a different coloured ballpoint
for every day, including red.  Ugh.


I open randomly to April 20th.  A Wednesday.

Last night.  I will call last night April 19th, 1983 The Night of Deaths.

Last night before falling asleep all people and animals I had grown to know like
relatives that have died on me, died again before my eyes.  My tears ran feely for them. 
A prediction - it could be the date of my own death in the future. 
All the people who had known me - not me as I portray myself.  Not as I seem to be in life. 
The person behind the smile.  The person behind the face.  The real me.  All dead. 
All dying.  Last night.  The Night of Deaths.

 

Today was sport, I had bushwalking.  I loved every minute of it - FANTASTIC

What.the.actual.expletive?




Ok - wow, more ...

April 16th - Saturday


I WILL NOT DIE A NOBODY.  This is not a 13yr old's dream.  This is a promise. 
I will be remembered after death.  I have foreseen.  But another one of my predictions
is that I will die young.  It will not be a health death.  It will be ( i'm not sure )
either accidental or purposeful.  This is not a fear of death, this is a prediction. 
I will either die by my own means.  I have dreamed hanging myself ( purposeful )
or in a car accident ( accidental ).  I think I will die at an early age ( 25-35 ) and not
live my full life.  So this means I must gain greatness at an early age.  Goodbye Diary



Most of the other skimmed entries deal with trying cigarettes and school gossip,
taping songs off the radio, and the rehearsals for the school play ( "Grease")

Freaking hell though .. talk about intense?!  Pretty sure that hanging thing was a
random one-off ??  I wasn't emo or anything ( black has never been my colour ) ..
and a later entry about a shopping trip to Melbourne where I spent my birthday money
shows me buying a cream beret and leg warmers ( hot! ) and a lot of pink stuff. 

More Molly Ringwald than Elvira.



What a freak.

I'm pretty sure I used to write stuff like that IN CASE stuff  did come true, and then
people would find my diary and think
"Wow, she was so deep and amazing, I wish i'd revered her more" 

Pretty sure this was also the year I read The Diary of Anne Frank, and also Go Ask Alice.

I do have pretty intense dreams though.  Even now.

I'm just thankful Nirvana wasn't around for me to be obsessed with as yet. 
Can you imagine? 



( Love you Kurt x )

Before You Think I Don't Like You..

It's not you .. it's me..

For as long as i've been alive, i've preferred my own company, my own bubble.
I like silence and reflectfulness and pottering, daydreaming. 
I love my house, wherever that may be, in whatever condition, and enjoy playing
in that small space - watching dust motes in a sunbeam, cuddling a cat, or weeding the garden.

Unless it's 6.30pm+, the television will not be on, nor a radio. 
The computer is never off, but I do not have sound/speakers.  The click clack of the keystrokes
is soothing and noise enough.  I like birdsong and random noises from elsewhere but
apparently I "suffer" from a genetic problem called "auditory processing disorder" ..
which only became apparent during the years of Speech Therapy for my firstborn and
when one particularly interested lady started ticking off the symptoms I was like
"Oh God - she's describing ME!". 

It was mind blowing, because I never even thought there was anything different about me
( except, oh hello, the fact i've never ever felt normal or "like everybody else" - ha ha )

And apparently it's genetic, so i'm the carrier. 
Of a gene that makes noise and crowds and lots of people talking at me and asking
me questions unbearable.  A lot of misdiagnosed ADHD kids have this.

So the therapist said I did fine in school because I learned the old way. 
That is, I sat stock still in my chair facing the teacher and the blackboard, and then I did
my work in my book.  There was no round circles, no collaborations, no group activities. 
In fact, when we got around to a bit of that in high school and Uni, or that time when I went to
Leadership Camp ( note: not a leader, don't follow me ), I *could*not*stand*it* .. 
I find it hard to concentrate, am easily distracted and twitchy and wish I was anywhere else. 

And then I usually don't complete the assignment ( unless I can smash it later on my own ).

So yeah, interesting.

Over the years i've built walls to solve a problem I never even knew I had - the fact I pretty much
refuse to use a phone, for example, and like everything in writing is so I can *process* information. 
I can't THINK when you talk to me .. and I certainly can't give you an answer óff the bat' ..
I need to think about it, read it, process it.  People bombarding me with aural information
either freak me out, or make me tune out and start doodling or daydreaming.

But i'm sure it's not the be-all and end-all of who I am and why i'm unlikely to accept
your social invitation ( or accept, and pike out ) .. I can't explain that.
It's not because I don't like YOU specifically, it's more probably the thing you're inviting
me to, or the fact i'd rather be in my jammies.







So, just to be clear:

- Let's do Coffee!
I don't really like the cafe experience - it's a time sapper, and I don't like sweet things
like cakes and biscuits that GO with coffee, plus, despite loving coffee, I can only really
have one a day and it has to be before 11am or the day is a jittery write-off
( see me, smelling the after-dinner coffees everyone orders and thinking YUM but sadly, being unable to imbibe.  If I eat after 7pm, i'm up until 2am digesting anyhoo, so pop a coffee into that
mix and uh, yeah.  Night of the Living Dead )

I like the idea of cafes though, they always look so nice and smell good.

- Let's Catch a Movie!
Sitting still in the dark when it's probably sunny outside.  Weird.  Having to pay attention.
Exceptions: Gold Glass with wine and yummy hot savouries!

- When a 'few of us' turns into évery man and his dog'
Pass

- When there's too few of you ( ie: one on one )
Tense.  Unless I know you really well, I hate having to grasp out for small talk. 
Bring a friend so we can bounce it around.

- The Shopping Centre
too many people, big carparks, easy to get lost, I don't do them, they make me hyperventilate

- The City
Parallel parking, paying for parking, being raped at the parking station,
dodgy carparks, getting lost

- The Popular Place
too many people, bad parking, getting lost, realising i'm no hipster

- Something over the Other Side of Town
Have fun!  Send me a postcard!







What i'm up for:

- Trips to IKEA. 
The cafe is cheap and I can pick up some horseballs for dinner on the way out. 
Good for a playdate meetup

- That pub with the playcentre and the parmigianas
I am often 'with child' and it's easier to relax and talk to peeps my own age when
he's having fun nearby and not whining about leaving or being bored. 
Ok, so it's not gourmand, but they probably have something with pumpkin and
feta and pinenuts if you're feeling adventurous.

- That place that serves wine
Enough said.

- Lunch
Not too early, not too late.  Can drink wine, don't have to organise a sitter.

- Something at your house
I love other people's houses, seeing their stuff, admiring their things, asking questions.
Other people's houses are probably one of my most favourite things. 
( plus, it's usually easy to get a park out front )

- Something at my house
Same as above, but don't drop in, wait for the invite because unless you're coming,
the place is probably filthy.

- Anything from the 'NO' list, but with my husband
I can do anything or go anywhere if he is with me.  He can park cars and navigate
shopping centres and he never gets stressed or anxious, and he always holds my hand. 

Plus, he normally pays, and he has more money than I do ;)







*Random iphone pics from the holidays proving i'm not a total hermit ;)

Rare Foodie-type Post for Simple Folks

 I am totes making this today.




( image, from flickr )

You can find the recipe here:  Layered Salad



There's a packet of frozen peas over at 'my other house'( that would be the house with a freezer ) and I was looking at it last night and wondering if I just bring home a cupful at a time, in a little seal-it baggie, that would be fine. 

But I keep forgetting the baggies.

And today is supposed to be 40 degrees, so a cold poolside salad will be fun, different and un-ewe-shoo-al, right?

I often get on little nostalgia kicks.
I had my first banana fritter since I was about 10yrs old the other night. 
We hankered for Asian, but our favourite Thai was shut, and so was the other place we'd been meaning to try.  So we drove past the place my friend always gets takeout from.  Closed. 

Bummer.  Now what to do?  We all wanted Asian food.


Which lead us to an apricot-hued suburban in the next strip. 
It was filled with people from my neighbourhood the type i've never seen before.  A table of lads with mum and dad, they were all wearing thongs and looked like they'd popped in from the cattle muster.  A table of old biddies that have probably been meeting weekly there since 1960.  They were discussing how to get refunds on eBay. 

I felt like it's stepped into a country town from 20yrs ago ( besides the eBay bit ).


And the food was of the era too.  AB's scallops were sans roe, and punched out of the same extrusion they make seafood sticks out of.  Everything had frozen peas in it.  Bad.  The type of bad you'd forgive if the servings were generous, or the prices lowered.  But they weren't.

But HELLO!  This meant I was still hungry after the meal, and .. OH MY GOD, should I?  I totally wanted to, but was a 30yr old banana fritter memory worth revisiting?.

Oh yes it was.

Because, my friends, they may prefer to order their meat & veg from "Frozen Bulk Catering Goods Inc" ... but that banana .. was picked from the tree of the Gods, then lightly dipped in the most exquisitely light golden batter, fried perfectly and served with excellent vanilla icecream and caramel sauce.  In that kitchen, my friends, was a dessert chef forced to churn out the beef & blackbean to indifferent suburbans and waited, oh he waited and waited and waited .. for someone to order the banana fritter.

And we did.  And it was good.  My 8yr old's eyes popped with delicious appreciation and OMG.
What tastes do explode on yonder tongue?

Because Mummy deep fries NOTHING. 
Mummy spend her formative years as a dishpig for her parent's wonderful dinner parties, which often featured oil, and mummy says, if we want deep fried anything, we order it when we are out, for some other dishpig to clean, who is presumably paid.



So onto the Layered Salad.

I haven't had it since in my 20's, and my family never has either - because (a) my kids weren't born and (b) my husband was still dreaming of me and how i'd be the love of his life.  Lucky him.
I'm probably much better in dreams.  But anyway.

I've been meaning to make this for OH, 20YRS NOW.

But despite my upwardly trending suburb, I don't know many people with pools having parties, where I can swan into with my delicious dish.  And l'm lazy.  totes lazy.  I'm the chick doing the stop by Safeway where the fam' stay in the car with the motor running and I emerge in under 2minutes flat triumphant with beer and gin and tonic and potato chips and sausages on the way - whoo-HOO!

In my 20's the hot party items were:

- Layered Salad
- a dip made with Worcestershire sauce, cream cheese, spring onions and a hint of tomato sauce.  Maybe some sour cream - i'm not sure, but it's probably still printed on the side of the JATZ packet.

Klassy.

Anyway, it's interesting that my google lead me to the Pioneer Woman .. who didn't exist in my 1992.. but if anyone can layer, it's the Americans ( have you ever had a layed Mexican salad - OMG )

Wish me luck! x

Flattin'

When I first moved to Melbourne as a 21yr old to begin my first job that didn't involve flattering middle-aged businesss men who should know better while serving them parmigianas and gins, I moved into a little flat with no fridge.

I had a 2nd/3rd/4th/16th hand mattress i'd been 'gifted' at Uni, a Papasan chair that was a 21st gift, and some 2nd hand things from a relative that had just got married ( and therefore got new cutlery etc ).
I didn't have much, but I loved my little flat.

I went to work with middle-aged things from the burbs. I think I was a bit of an enigma, and maybe something to be pitied. I'm not sure. They were all having affairs and it was a very secretive place to work, but I only learned this later. Once I knew all their secrets, they finally accepted me as trustworthy, but the thing was, I realised it was better when I didn't know why they didn't seem to include me. Anyway.

I got a flat within walking distance to work, and they could never work out why I didn't take the train or buy a car ( hello, 1. - the train took like 90mins, walking, around 40mins .. and 2. I had no money, I was fresh out of self-funded Uni, and wouldn't pay off my HECS debt for another 10yrs )
Plus, I was living in a very old suburb, and I got to walk past picket fences, and old people tending their roses every morning. It really put a spring in my step, I loved it.
When it rained though, my pants would be drenched from the knee down .. but still, I loved the walk.

At least I gave them something to talk about. Or pity. Who knows.
I guess in my new role as a 40+ suburban mum, maybe i'd pity and gossip about that girl too.
Hopefully though, maybe i'd just be nice to her.
And treat her less like an extra-terrestrial.

Who the Freak can live without a fridge?


Well, i'm here to tell you, that you can. You do. You just manage.
As people do. As they always will.

1. You don't drink milk in your coffee. If you've just come fresh out of Uni, you are used to an "artist's breakfast" anyway, and never, ever trust milk. It's always rancid, and you learn bitter is better. Until you can trust milk again ( for me, this took as long as the HECs debt )

2. You buy daily. It may be more expensive, but then, it may be cheaper. Who knows? I suppose I could embark on a study, but really, I don't care. It won't make any difference to my life right now, or later, so it's a moot point for me. You buy a little bit of food, then you eat it, and it's gone.

3. Again, i'm straight from Uni, so 2minute noodles is fine.
I'm cooking for one, and the key is survival, not gourmet.





So this time it's different, as i'm feeding a family of four, but i'm looking forward to the challenge.
Maybe we'll all lose a few pounds - that would be a nice bonus :)





As you can see, we seem to live on a diet of mayo & alcohol. Schweet! Call DOCs now!
I took the door off the "freezer" bit when we put some icetrays in there, and despite moving them around for 2 days to better please the Gods, no ice was yeilded. It does however create nice frosty wine and tonic, so swings & roundabouts I say.

I'd also like to not be judged on the Philly. I tried them as a cheese/paté subs, and .. no banana.
Sorry Philly. You are however, uber convenient when I am uber hungry, so kudos to that.

So, 6 months with a bar-fridge. I'm not worried at all.
I'm actually a little excited.


xx
Lea

Summer Bay

When I was growing up, we spent 3years living in a caravan.

And no, not one of those luxury models with a toilet and shower, or with an annex built with permanent framing almost like a house with fancy furniture in it ( like those rich people a few sites down ) .. no, we lived in a small HOLIDAY sized caravan .. 2 bunks .. a kitchenette with a tiny tv* ( showing either Daktari or Mike Willesee, The Muppets, or news on the Azaria Chamberlain trial as I remember it.  )  When it rained, our canvas annex flooded.  When we need to pee at night, we did it in a bucket.  When we wanted to shower, we took a key to the ablution blocks and risked perverts, and wore our thongs/flip-flops in the shower.






Being high maintenence was not an option.  Owning things was not an option, possessions were sparse and at Christmas my mum would find an interesting dead tree branch and spray it silver and hang baubles off it.

My dad shot rabbits and went fishing.  Buckshot from the .22 in your meal was a nasty reality, even though mum did her best.  We ate fish/rabbit/fish/rabbit.  Every frikken night.  Or so it seemed.
I don't remember being happy, but I don't remember being unhappy either.  It was just my life.






I wasn't invited to other people's homes to compare and get jealous ( I only just thought of this then - funny?! - maybe I was the only one that didn't know I was trash .. or maybe I just wasn't allowed to have friends.. or maybe it was easier.. friends were dangerous .. can't have people knowing too much about us, best not make any? ) but we were new in town, and there was always new kids ( transients ) to play with in the caravan park .. and my sister.  I don't remember feeling teased or unliked.  That shit could wait to high school.







We arrived in town in Grade 4.  My father uprooted us in the middle of the night from our former home/town due to reasons unknown even today.  Personally I think someone was going to smash him for any number of reasons, so we just took off.  We lived in a house then, and we just left everything .. proper furniture .. the lot.  Still, it wasn't the first time we'd moved, and I don't remember missing anything.  You learn not to grow attached to things. 

I just remember coming home from school to find it pretty much empty and my prized Hanimex Camera was on the mantle, in a new brown vinyl case *squinty suspicious eyes*.  That meant something was happening.  I knew not to ask.  Questions get you in trouble.  I was 9yrs old.
I didn't get to say goodbye to my friends, or tell my teacher.  I just suddenly wouldn't be at school anymore.  Just like that.  Howdy Doody.







So we moved states and ended up in some town my parents travelled through once.  I don't know - I was probably excited.  I don't remember.  I guess it was an adventure.  I still have a good deal of 'pick up and leave and don't tell anyone and start a new life somewhere' in me, so it might be genetic**

So yeah, the caravan.
Grade 4 to Grade 6, maybe only 2yrs then .. but i'm sure it was 3.  I'm pretty sure we got a house before High School, which was a big relief, so maybe I was more aware of being trailer trash than I admit to.

Anyway, back to my present, we need to move out of the house come January.  We're knocking out some walls, getting a wardrobe, a functional kitchen and prepping the ceilings for an upstairs in the fure.  We can't afford the upstairs just yet, but since the ceiling has to come off anyway, they're putting in the foundations for a 2nd story.  Or something.







Which means we have to find alternate accoms.
At one stage I thought it would be cheaper to BUY a caravan on eBay and live in our driveway.
Which made me lose a day in an alternate universe and googling to find OUR caravan.

I lost a whole day of work.

I mean, we must have had only 2 sets of clothes each to fit in there?  And no toys.  I remember matchbox cars, but, having no friends ( or poor friends? ) I guess I had nothing to compare to - didn't everyone pee in a bucket?  I know I wanted a Baby Alive more than anything, but she never came.

We lived in a caravan.  Mum & Dad slept down their end, a mere 2 metres max from óur end' which was a set of bunks.  Me on the bottom, and my sister on top.  Our kitchen/living room was in the middle and 'bedtime' meant the vinyl concertina door would be slid across, thus blocking the light, but not the conversation.

It was probably weird.

I envy normal people.  People that grew up not weird.  I do.
I think they can smell the fraud on me ..



I got lots of stories.



When we moved to the house, I missed the sound of the crashing of the waves.




















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*As an interlude, that TV also introduced me to Elvis movies, Gidget and Doris Day/Rock Hudson.
I first saw Lucille Ball movie on that tv. No I can't remember which one, but it was HILARIOUS, and no, I am not a gay male.


**I think i'm on my 5th life now, but i'm not dodgy.  Only changed my name once ( gladly ) to be married, but i've left whole lives behind me, personas that were me at the time that didn't fit anymore, friends I never really liked that liked me more ( but never knew the inner me, so didn't really know me at all ).


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Note : All images in this post were found on eBay and caravan fan forums.  I couldn't find our exact caravan, but these come pretty close .. the textured fake glass/perspex with the bottle bottom imprint .. the fancy knobs on the siding doors where our clothes were stashed.. the fold down table that doubled as a bed for guests ( lucky them! ) .. the brown ..