Dolly Diary
This week Doll performed at the Boyne Valley Music Campout in sunny, downtown Ubobo - the friendliest little camping joint in our region.
It’s a tribute to the organisers, artists and locals that this little festival attracts so many regulars returning each year to enjoy catching up and listening to some great music in a genuinely friendly part of the world.
Turning Back Time
To celebrate the other states turning back their clocks to NORMAL Time from Daylight Savings Time (last weekend… ok, I’m still catching up), I thought I’d go for a little stroll back in time… to the 1970’s!
Enjoy!
In the Home:
Shag pile carpeting (which would catch any chipped toe or fingernails and tear them clean off) was de rigeur, ditto for crocheted pillow covers, cathode ray tube TV’s, Hi Fi record players (admittedly these are selling again nowadays… don’t ask me why?) and I think that’s a red Dalek on the table top too (or possibly an ancient sex toy?)
Moving right along…
In the Kitchen:
Crock pots, electric can openers were the wonder of the day, and I can actually still taste milkshakes from aluminium containers… (note: the American spell check on this site kept insisting it’s spelled ‘Aluminum’. I wonder if ‘Sodium’ in the US is spelled ‘Sodum’? It would make sense…)
Games:
Monopoly. Hated it. Still do. Wish it would go the way of the Dodo. Probably the reason we have a housing crisis now, all the little hoarders grew up to be greedy property investors and are now lording it over the losers… until the inevitable row erupts.
Mr. Mystery. You’d use an invisible ink pen to reveal the correct letters or clues to solve the mystery. Note: being the 1970’s the ink was probably very toxic… possibly radioactive. Ditto for the chemistry sets sold to children.
Smash Up Derby. After six months you’ve have lost half the pieces or the cable tie had worn out. Plus the dog was a nervous wreck from being chased by multi-coloured cars.
Things That Will NEVER Return:
Racist ashtray holders.
Pay packets full of actual cash (in paper money), before the bank could charge you for taking and handing out your own money (which is now made of thin air or electrons I think?)
Your household rubbish being picked up by footy players being paid to train all year round by running through suburbs carting heavy, and smelly, bins.
And if you didn’t leave them at least one tallie of beer on top of your bins at Christmas time, for the next few months your empty bins, and severely dented, bins would left much further down the street for you to collect.
Phone number flippers, which also doubled as catapults to send toy soldiers flying across the lounge room.
Also, I hope to never see one of these things again (kids, it’s a crocheted toilet doll which sat on every toilet cistern around the country to hide a roll of dunny paper).
Do you know how hard it is to ‘go’ when you’re being watched by one of these dolls. Even worse was sitting with your back to it and suspecting it was making stabbing motions with one arm.
I’m also delighted to report that these finger, hand and arm flatteners have also vanished from sight:
Also, no more waking up in a warm, wet puddle (non personal bladder related) after springing a leak in the dead of night:
And these have been consigned to the Dust Bin of history too:
Australasian Post mag: Full of interesting articles, plus I used to love Zmud and the Ettamogah Pub cartoons, jokes page, Mr. Wisdoms’ Whopper Crossword and photos, and yarns, of exotic places from around Oz I hoped to visit, with a nice girl in a skimpy bikini when I was old enough.
Actually, I’d even dreamed that one day, when I was adulting, to make a living writing for the mag as a travelling photo-journalist; exploring the country on my yacht (with motorcycle), accompanied by ‘a nice girl in a skimpy bikini’.
It’s probably not going to happen now… well, that and my other dream job of being the person to rub oil on the legs of the Hot Gossip women dancers from the Kenny Everett Video Show.
Witchetty’s Tribe: I have several copy’s stashed away still, and occasionally I’ll thumb through them. Ironically, most of his fans were First Nations peoples who would write to Mr. Joliffe to thank him for the memories of their childhoods.
On the Small Screen:
Blankety Blanks. I used to enjoy this show while we ate dinner, (possibly because Graham Kennedy and Ugly Dave Gray were always pushing the boundaries of good taste and humour… and getting away with it), but it’d be pretty cringey to watch now I suspect.
Speaking of which…
Kingswood Country: Each week we’d tune in to see what was flaming Ted Bullpit’s (no, it’s Bull’P’itt) anger levels to the point where he would yell, “Someone should blow up…” (insert any of the following here): Catholic school kids on pedestrian crossings. Wog son-in-law wanting to borrow his car. Politically correct son. Over the top womens’ lib daughter. Alcholic Nuns. Idiot wife and the neighbours’ three legged terrier, Jack, peeing on the concrete aboriginal in his front yard, etc.
Funny? It sure was back in the day!
But not so much now…
Time Please:
There was so much more, e.g. Black and White Minstrels, fibre optic lamps, disco clothing, etc. but time and space…
Speaking of which, nearly forgot this from 1977:
Happy Snaps
Big contrast in weather this week, from rainy and muggy to clear and cool.
Welcome back Autumn… Summer, take a hike pal!
From this Monday afternoon:
To this Tuesday afternoon:
Then Wednesday evening the cold air rolled in:
As did this seaplane (which took me by surprise so I missed a close up of it):
This also took me by surprise (caffeinated hair?):
Ok folks, thanks for dropping by, see you next week!
Cheers,
Greg