SUMMER HOLIDAY

 

"I'm very proud of The Curmudgeons Inc.ⓒ  and what they can offer via their respective portfolios. I see myself as a kind of Prime Minister overseeing the cabinet of ministers and guiding them in a direction that, in this case, is of benefit to the blogging community (all of those readers creates a responsibility). The problem is, that with so many curmudgeons I sometimes take my eye off the ball and some get away without posting for a while."   - The Curmudgeon 11 June 2022

Thanks boss. I'll try to keep up, in fact I was about to write a post anyway.

It's been a lousy old couple of days up north. Yesterday it got so cold - 13 degrees! - that we lit the fire in the lounge and kept it going most of the day.

Today, as happens up here the temperature bounced back to 18 degrees so a fire wasn't necessary but it's been raining off and on all day, keeping us inside. Looking for things to do I went through some old photographs that brought back memories and I want to share this one with you and our readers.

This photo shows me on the right with my older brother Terry and our older sister Sharyn. I think that the date was about 1957 but it might have been 1958. I do know that the location was Hamilton.

As a family, which wasn't unusual back then, New Zealand workers had holidays at Christmas and the New year - usually two weeks. Dad closed his business down at that time and he and employees all headed off for adventure. Our adventures  involved packing up the station wagon, van or truck and heading off to a different place each year. After a day's stifling travel ("are we there yet") we would usually arrive at a township by a lake, a river or a beach. We stayed in 'holiday camps' where if we were lucky dad had pre-booked a couple of cabins (one for Mum, Dad and Sharyn and one next door for Terry and me). If this hadn't been arranged or available then the 'trusty' old tent would come into use.

One of Dad's photographs of his crew

The 'trusty' old tent was a nightmare. Dad was proud of it and if he hadn't kept it from his days in the desert in WW2 had obviously bought it army surplus. It was huge, heavy, cumbersome and it stank. It took two weeks for the malodorous odours from previous expeditions, dampness and poor storage to dissipate and by then it was packed up and we were home.

The holiday I'm remembering was when we as a family - Mum, Dad, Terry, Sharyn and me crammed ourselves into a Holden FE station wagon and drove from Wellington to Hamilton non-stop. We hadn't booked in at any camping grounds because we were staying with the 'rellies'.

I guess we left early because in those days the 250 miles (400 kms) took a lot longer than it does today with 'old-style' roading and cars. We did travel through some interesting landscape though, probably going via the desert road, Taupo and even Rotorua but the things I mainly remember on these trips were us kids plaintive 'are we there yet?" wailing.

This was in the late 1950s remember and, while it was a great time to live in New Zealand, things were a bit primitive in regard to hospitality and customer services. Added to that was the fact that, as I mentioned previously, in New Zealand at the time the whole country virtually closed down  for Christmas and New Year holidays and, yes, this included cafes, food stores and sometimes petrol stations.

  Luckily, (or unluckily depending on your viewpoint) Dad had come prepared. Those years in Crete, North Africa and Italy, on campaign, had armed him with the knowledge and the suitable equipment to take advantage of any stops in travel. In our case it was 'rest stops' being pee breaks behind a hedge or copse of trees on the roadside. Note: This is a luxury no longer afforded to the modern traveller as I can attest to when desperately needing a pee while driving along a country road recently. There are very few places to stop and, if and when you do there are even fewer places to have a discreet pee out of sight of the passing traffic, the landowners and any other bloody nosy person who might just be wandering about!

Dad always ensured that he brought the 'big box' on holiday that contained 'brew up' materials. He used this term even though he was in the Divisional Cavalry which was a cousin of the tank regiments and 'brew up' had a very nasty connotation. His box contained some kind of kettle, enamel mugs, tea, condensed milk in cans, bags of sugar and a water boiler. This little contraption would marvellously boil water very quickly fuelled only by a few trigs and sticks. He used to enjoy getting the kit set up and brewing. We hated it and had to race about finding twigs and sticks to get it going. I must admit though, it was very efficient. It was kind of like a thermos in that the outer layer was separated from the inner reservoir of water. In the outer layer, sticks and twigs were placed and set on fire. The fire would quickly boil the water . I guess when speed was of the essence given that 'brewing up' could bring a rain of enemy shells and another sort of brew up, the soldiers were on the go.

Another of Dad's photos, doing a brew up in the desert.

So, whenever we'd stop because someone wanted a pee, Dad would make tea. It must have driven Mum nuts.

Anyway, we would have arrived in Hamilton late in the day or in the evening. When we were kids sleep came easily so no doubt were were packed off to bed and slept through the night wile the old folks had  a catch up, some eats and certainly some alcoholic drinks.

The aunt and uncle in Hamilton at that time lived in Frankton near the railway line. It was an old villa-type house of the kind that I love and which we currently own. Later they moved to a new-built suburban home in a 'posher' part of Hamilton, a house that I hated when visiting later. It didn't have the character of the old house.

I remember, during our week and a half stay, the soulful and wonderful sound of a steam train going past in the middle of the night. It might have been the Wellington-Auckland night train, I'm not sure but the chuff chuff sound of the engine, the rattle of the wheels on the rails and the mournful sound of the whistle are embedded in my memory and probably add to my lifelong love of trains and train journeys.

Even though I was very young - 5 maybe, I remember that summer holiday very well. It was warm and sunny and we spent days in the big garden and orchard or going swimming in the nearby lake. 

We had a day trip to Auckland and, as you did back then, went to Farmers department store which was on many levels with a kids playground on the roof.

Magic!

One of the lasting memories though, triggered by this photograph was time spent on the verandah of the old villa and playing in the garden and orchard. I think that this influenced my love of old houses which we've owned in Auckland, Christchurch and now in Whangarei.