My first travel memory was when I was about 3 or 4 in the early 1970's. My aunt and uncle were visiting from the UK and we took a road trip down to Melbourne. There are 3 things that stick in my mind:
Firstly it was hot and as a result we always stayed in motels with a swimming pool. One motel didn't have a swimming pool and I had an absolute tantrum, as only a young child can do! So my uncle, who in this case was fortunately deaf, bundled me up with my floaty rings, and hat and took me to a motel down the road which although fully booked had a swimming pool which they allowed us to use.
On the way back to Sydney we were driving along a beautiful road in our big blue and white Valiant, long bench seats and plenty of room. There was a cliff on the left, and we were winding along the road. I was sucking a dummy and my mother didn't like that I was still using a dummy. So in a flash of a moment my mother grabbed the dummy, threw it out the window and I watched it disappear down the mountain side. I was stunned and then nothing. I didn't miss it and that was the end of that.
The last moment of this trip which I recall was we were on a ferry on Sydney Harbour. I was standing near the railing and the cool breeze felt good on my face. Then in a flash, my favourite pink hat, was whisked off my head by the wind and dumped in the ocean. I watch it sink in the waves off the boat and my hat was gone.
Great memories and good times. Just read somewhere "you forget the things you want to remember and remember the things you want to forget." Hmmmm not sure what I think...
Posted by: TheHairStyler | 21 April 2009 at 12:46 PM