Thinking how it used to be
Does she still remember times like these?
To think of us again?
And I do.
Does she still remember times like these?
To think of us again?
And I do.
Showing posts with label 70's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 70's. Show all posts
Monday, July 28, 2008
Love this Song
Although the song doesn't really gell with any particular time of my life (I hasten to add), the girl in green at 2:15 is stunning, as is the song.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Language !
Overheard in a packed lift today at work.
Her
"I see you haven't attacked that stubble on your face again today Glen"
(silence)
Him
"No Laura, but it's nice to see you've had a shave this morning"
(deafening silence)
I love a good comeback, especially when people on attack often use an awkward moment to point score. The guys was so obviously indifferent as he shuffled out of the lift; a winner in every possible way.
Years ago I would hate having to be polite when older relatives or parents friends would come out with the most inappropriate comments like;
"God you've put on weight"
"Haven't you got a girlfriend yet?"
"Goodness, where did all your hair go"?
Part of me just wanted to tell them to get fucked and die, but children brought up in the 60's and 70's were often seen and not heard.
Old habits die hard it seems.
Fuckers.
Friday, January 11, 2008
End of the Golden Summer
Around this time of the year I'm always reminded of the long trip home after the summer holidays. Just prior to Christmas we would pack up the Holden and travel to Westport to stay with my grandparents. Weeks later we would pack up and do the whole thing over again.
It took nine hours to get from Westport to Dunedin, not on interstate motorways but instead by roads built along the sides of mountain passes. In a country where air conditioning meant winding the window down more, and on roads that could be better thought of as secondary to pot holes, nine hours in a car was extreme torture to anyone, let alone a ten year old.
As a child I remember thinking that if I could just get to sleep, the trip would pass faster - all assuming you or your siblings didn't get car-sick along the way and set everyone else off. It was all in vein - someone always got sick, and usually after waking from a deep sleep.
The first part of the trip through the Buller Gorge was amazing, but as the family car hit the Canterbury plains the scenery slowly changed from green to brown and the hot "nor-westers" blew relentlessly through our windows, as we slowly baked under the midday sun.
After Christchurch we knew we were over half way, yet still had 4 hours to go. The roads south from now on were straight to the point of absurd. We couldn't wait until we hit the winding roads around Oamaru just to break the boredom. Sixty minutes from home we sat, eyes glued to the front windscreen, playing the age old game of "First to see Dunedin". No one cared who won, because thirty minutes later we would be home.
We always complained that the butter tasted funny after 9 weeks in the fridge, and the first dinner was limited to what what was in the pantry, because in the 70's there were no 24 hour supermarkets, and even the dairies closed in the early evening.
Behold New Zealand in the 70's - where all coffee was instant and milk was 5cents a pint. I know because I put the coin in the glass bottle we left for the milkman at the letterbox, sure in the knowledge we'd have a bottle of milk for our breakfast WeetBix the next day, unless (obviously) it was a Sunday. Because no one worked on a Sunday.
For better or worse, I think I miss that part the most.
It took nine hours to get from Westport to Dunedin, not on interstate motorways but instead by roads built along the sides of mountain passes. In a country where air conditioning meant winding the window down more, and on roads that could be better thought of as secondary to pot holes, nine hours in a car was extreme torture to anyone, let alone a ten year old.
As a child I remember thinking that if I could just get to sleep, the trip would pass faster - all assuming you or your siblings didn't get car-sick along the way and set everyone else off. It was all in vein - someone always got sick, and usually after waking from a deep sleep.
The first part of the trip through the Buller Gorge was amazing, but as the family car hit the Canterbury plains the scenery slowly changed from green to brown and the hot "nor-westers" blew relentlessly through our windows, as we slowly baked under the midday sun.
After Christchurch we knew we were over half way, yet still had 4 hours to go. The roads south from now on were straight to the point of absurd. We couldn't wait until we hit the winding roads around Oamaru just to break the boredom. Sixty minutes from home we sat, eyes glued to the front windscreen, playing the age old game of "First to see Dunedin". No one cared who won, because thirty minutes later we would be home.
We always complained that the butter tasted funny after 9 weeks in the fridge, and the first dinner was limited to what what was in the pantry, because in the 70's there were no 24 hour supermarkets, and even the dairies closed in the early evening.
Behold New Zealand in the 70's - where all coffee was instant and milk was 5cents a pint. I know because I put the coin in the glass bottle we left for the milkman at the letterbox, sure in the knowledge we'd have a bottle of milk for our breakfast WeetBix the next day, unless (obviously) it was a Sunday. Because no one worked on a Sunday.
For better or worse, I think I miss that part the most.
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