It's all about me

Box Brownie Photos: A little me

BELOW: This photo was recently given to me by my Auntie Joan. I don’t know how old I am – I will ask mum when I see her, soon. It was taken with a Kodak Box Brownie camera by my aunt at my grandfather’s place. Grandpa trained trotters. That’s why there is a sulky in the background.

Christine, young


FEATURED: This other image is possibly one of us with mum. I think it is me. Auntie Joan was not sure if it was our family. Again, mum will know.

Thanks for looking. Have a good day. 🙂

Bite Size Memoir

Bite Size Memoir: Bad Hair Day

Posted for Lisa’s Bite Size Memoir: Bad Hair Day using the 10 ‘I remember’ statements instead of 150 words.

“Velvet”, 5 blocks of yellow soap in single bar, wrapped in red & blue printed paper… From the Powerhouse Museum Collection, NSW, under Creative Commons License: Attribution Non-Commercial

I remember when my hair was washed once a week, on Sundays. Mum used yellow Velvet soap as there wasn’t shampoo those days. Velvet (now made by Pental) was sold in Northern Australia as Sunlight soap.  Do you remember how hard soap was, once? Nowadays, I remove the packaging right away, to let it dry  out.

Velvet soap, a later style

I remember my sister usually kept her hair short. One day she told me how she had always felt disgusted, standing behind me on the school bus, looking at the dandruff on the shoulders of my high school blazer.


1969, pigtails

I remember wearing my hair in plaits, a ponytail, or pigtails – kept under control with rubber bands, ribbons, scrunchies, hairclips, or headbands. My aunt fixed it in a bun a few times, and I pestered mum to do it every morning before school until the novelty wore off.

1971, single pigtail

I remember the first time I had my hair styled. It was for my first wedding in 1973. It was lovely and boofy for days.

April Fools Day, 1973

April Fools Day, 1973

I remember how your scalp itches like mad as soon as anyone mentions nits or lice. I don’t recall having them at school, myself, but the pesky little critters swept through my children’s primary school. We took preventative action.

I remember cutting my fringe and trimming my hair for years. I thought I did a pretty good job, too. Nowadays, I still just hack at my fringe when I feel like it. Who takes notice of someone nearly sixty! I intend having a trim for my sixtieth.



I remember putting colour rinses  and permanent colours in my hair, usually chestnut or cherry – never ever blonde. The closest I ever got to blonde was tips in the late 80s. My sister peroxided hers, but the idea just never appealed to me.


1989, with blonde tips

I remember the first time I had a perm, an afro of course, about 1980. The hairdresser commented on how uneven my hair ends were. Not surprising. I began using conditioner for the first time after my perm. I still have my afro comb.

1980, with my Japanese penpal. The afro is half grown out by now.

1980, with my Japanese penpal. The afro is half grown out by now.

In 1990, I remember seeing a barmaid with a glorious head of hair of all shades of brown and grey, and I thought to myself, if I go grey like that, I will be happy. Now, in full sunlight, my hair gleams silver.

2011, with my self inflicted style

2011, with my self inflicted style

I remember my sister’s memorial service, one of my nephews saying: “Oh yes, Christine, of course I recognize you. Still got the mullet, I see.”  I had it cut shortly after that.

2011 - shortest haircut - ever

2011 – a few days later with my shortest haircut – ever

Bite Size Memoir

Bite Size Memoir: Crazy!

BITE SIZE MEMOIRBelatedly, this is for Lisa’s Bite Size Memoir: Crazy! (in 150 words). I thought of some really crazy stuff, but decided to play crazy-happy – instead of crazy-stupid or simply crazy-crazy!


As the Footloose Bus approached Queenstown, New Zealand, I rashly declared my intention to Bungee Jump. Only a few weeks before, at home, I’d scoffed, said I wasn’t that crazy.  Apparently I was.


Lined up on the platform to the right … try again, shall we? 5 – 4- 3 – 2 – 1 … …

The waiting was the worst, queuing seemed hours of being deaf and denture-less.

Eventually I moved into place; my ankles wrapped in towels. I didn’t like the way the little frayed hat-elastic ends swirled in the breeze on the sides of the elastic they bound around my ankles.  When I spoke, the attendant laughed and said he would be expecting a huge Australian scream from me. He counted backwards, twice, before I found courage to launch myself into space.

Jumping off

Jumping off


Heading straight down

Heading straight down

Jumping off that bridge, 143 feet above the river, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I heard my scream echoing off the sides of the ravine.


coming back up, still screaming


flicking back up under the bridge, second freefall


Getting lowered down to the inflatable, to be deposited on the bank for the climb back up – to a point a bit lower than the bridge level.


I still can barely believe I did it!

1989 - aka The Ouzo Lady - New Zealand.

1989 – aka The Ouzo Lady – New Zealand.