My dear Mum popped around the other week for a visit and bought me a little surprise
- a little pile of photographs of me that had fallen out of their albums over the years. You remember those old photo albums with the sticky pages and the clear plastic film over them? Yeah, those don't age so well, so lots of Mum's photos have come loose and been orphaned in such a manner as the pile she brought me.I haven't actually done a photo blog before so I thought this might be an opportunity to show you a select few photos of me over the years with a little commentary.
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The photo at the top of the page is me as a baby in 1971. I never really quite grew into that huge head, but it has had lots and lots of room for some really good (and really bad) ideas over the years. [smirk]
This photo is me having a bath the following year. Notice how high up that bath is. You'd be shot for putting your child in that situation these days, but note that I am very much alive and suffered very little because of this incident. :)
This one is of me with my triplet brother Lincoln (on the trike), politely (I'm sure) asking him can I pretty please have a ride of his (his?) trike. My memory is littered by such moments as this - not having terribly much so having to share just about freaking everything with my brothers (and later a sister, six kids in all!)
This is of me (on right) with my brothers Lincoln (left) and Kenneth (centre) playing in the creek that ran directly behind our pool in Normanhurst in Sydney. The year is 1975, and we're three years old. The creek is Coups Creek and it literally ran through our backyard, a fact which blew our little minds every time we thought about it. Lincoln and Kenneth were identical, with me being the 'different' looking one. Kenny is no longer with us, having crashed his altogether too powerful motorbike in 2006, but his memory lives on in photos such as this, and in the hearts of those he left behind.
This is me with my Dad at the end of 1975, so I'm four years old. He would have been 28 in this shot, probably watching the new colour TV that he laid carpet for many weeks and months to be able to afford. In those days you had a copper aerial that looked like a science experiment and if there was a storm or any other interference your chances of watching the telly were buckleys and fuck all. Dad has all but lost his mind and body these days due to a lifetime of quite successfully abusing alcohol, but photos like this remind me that he was once fit and lucid.
Fast forward to 1986 and this is me in a rather snazzy looking suit all set to go to my year ten formal. Check out that bloody haircut. I am fifteen years of age at the time, and like many of my peers I have already planned the post-formal party. The beer and change of clothes are at a mates house, and the LP records (Midnight Oil, The Angels, The Radiators etc, wish I still had them) have already been dropped off at the after-party house. In those days you could drink two or three beers and be absolutely blind drunk. Six people could throw in a few bucks each and have a great night. It took a lot of us a while to realise that it was the company we craved and that the alcohol wasn't necessary, but it was fun nonetheless.
Last photo in this set is me reading the paper at my Mum's house in Bradbury, near Campbelltown in NSW. I could be anywhere between 20 and 23 as I can't place the time, although I loved that shirt. I remember it cost me an arm and a leg and I wore it until it literally fell apart. I'd left home at 18 to live in the Eastern Suburbs and it was always nice to return home to the relative calm of Campbelltown. It has changed from a semi-rural town to a satellite metropolis over the years, but I suppose it will always be home.
Thanks for stopping by. You're awesome.
