Down Memory Lane

We went for a big long drive the other day, and the journey took me all the way down memory lane.

Actually the journey was to my folks' place in Palmerston North, which is about seven hours south of where we live. We packed up the car to the gills, strapped eighty five bikes to the roof of the people mover and set off to see the grandparents. My mum was in the car with us for the journey. {Long story. You don't need to hear it.}

I practised snapping pics of grand mountains from the window of a speeding vehicle. I should have saved my batteries. Yes, that's right. I took my new flash camera minus the battery charger (or any spares). So guess what? A photo-less weekend. Almost.

The kids managed to steal my camera and snap these gems...

That's me and my four extra Christmas kilos standing in my mother's kitchen. Beautiful. And those guilty culprits, aren't their self-portraits sweet?

Just before the camera battery died I managed to squeeze the last of the juice out of it and captured these old family snaps, for you to have a giggle at. Actually I lie. They are for me to have a giggle at...

Aw look at me. Aren't I cute? That's my mum holding me top left. And my spunky Buddy-Holly-dad holding me bottom left. What can I say, it's 1970.

Here we are at the beach, 1971. I think It's Waiheke Island. My mum is trying to capture a picturesque moment. "Smile Simone," she kept saying as I set on the shells in the waves. I did my best to smile, honest. But there were leaches sucking onto my butt, so it was kinda painful. Or so the story goes. No mystery where I got my Japanese-tourist tendencies huh?

Now it's 1974. Or 1975. I encouraged my cousin to swing on the clothesline and he fell off and broke his leg. Oops. And look at my dad's groovy Aff. We were very cool back then. Oops, no, just noticed the sandals-n-socks combo. Not so cool.

The unsmiling child with the pigtails is not impressed. I have now entered my awkward phase. And one of mum's friends who was apparently a hairdresser (??) cut all of us girls' hair short. I'm sure she didn't check with me beforehand. Grrr. So began my haircut phobia... Poor little me and my bad hair days...

Things obviously got worse before they got better. Look at me in the 80's. See that triangular-shaped bob on the ski field? My younger sister's handiwork.

Oh and look at me being a little Arab girl. It was some kind of theme night. My dad's face was painted with coffee. Mine too. I remember that moment well. I got caught up in the moment and grabbed the microphone... only to have a mind blank and stand there looking very very silly. Ouch. Those awkward teenage years.

Seventeen. I kind of like this photo. The bad home-job bob is growing out.

Those were the days.
I don't miss them. Oh no. I wouldn't go back to that younger me if I could. Even if you paid me.
I don't miss young shy nervous introverted Simone. (Er. What's changed?)

But I do miss being 25... 15... 10... 4 kilos lighter...

*really really really big sigh*

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