That's me and my mother in the photo on the blog-header, with Dad's car, back in 1963 or thereabouts. Dad brought home the lovely old 'jalopy' one evening right out of the blue, I remember my mum wasn't too pleased and she refused to ride in it for a couple of days. I don't even recall how he came by it...it just arrived, in spite of us being impoverished at the time, hence mum's disapproval. My brother and I went out with him that evening for a drive and I nearly wet myself laughing because not yet being used-to the clutch and gears Dad did 'kangaroo petrol' down the road. He was embarrassed I think, because he shouted and looked stern which only made me want to laugh more, you know how it is? Like when you're in the library right beneath the sign that says, 'Silence' and your mate cracks a joke about the librarians stuffiness.
I think I'm about fourteen in this photo...get a load of those jeans!! You can just about see a little of the lovely old car. Winding windows and a real wooden steering-wheel, no winking indicators either, they were the original little pointy-amber-hands clunking out like ears from the side behind the rear doors. I loved that old car. We felt 'posh' whenever we went out in it, in spite of a few mishaps we had in it. Like the front wheel bowling off down the road on it's own, leaving Mum and Dad unharmed, though she never got over having to come home on the bus in her fluffy house-slippers! She'd gone out quickly without a coat and hadn't changed into outdoor shoes. Then the exhaust fell off completely on a trip to Yorkshire when were carrying an esteemed visitor from France and we had to drive home with the car sounding like a World War Two tank that certainly made an impression we didn't wish to repeat!
