Wow, not 7 anymore, now I am 8 and obviously grown up. Grown up enough to have heckled Dad for
months to drive myself and a around 8 others to Luna Park where fairy floss and
hot dogs could be consumed all at once before rides which hopefully would not
tempt the contents of my stomach to deliver the second coming.
It all started well until Dad’s company car died and he was
presented with a Hillman Minx as a temporary replacement. The Minx was half the size. No longer could we fit 5 kids across the back
bench seat with Dad and another 4 smelly boys in the front. No seat belts – no
issue.
But in the spirit of collective insanity 8 boys were
delivered to our home by not-so-keen fathers after seeing the magnificent Minx.
We all fitted. The
back seat became a veritable tangle of 6 boys all practicing for the national ‘passing
of wind’ competition. An experience to
remember. Needless to say Dad’s window
was always down as he inched his nostrils towards clean air freedom and he had
another 3 boys with him in the front determined also to keep the ‘passing of
wind’ practice alive or, dead. Something
must have died in the car, surely.
Still we got to Luna Park and spilled out of the Minx only
to be confronted by, ‘heaven’. Hot dogs,
fairy floss and coke all to be consumed at once and at speed in the hope for
more of the same. Then the ghost boat ride which frightened the
crap out of us but never never admitted it followed by the spinning room where
the floor disappeared whilst we were glued to the wall and then the Big
Dipper. Stomach, not too bad but
tender. Next, the moving floor required
balance and lots of personal movement. This spelt trouble but bravado won through.
Sort of.
Dad, in his infinite wisdom, could see the complexion change
of 9 boys from sort of suntanned to ghostly pale and he knew it had nothing to
do with the ghost train. Oops. The
inside of the borrowed Minx was in trouble.
Funny how 9 smelly boys went quiet-ish.
I remember Dad asking us, with smirk, if we wanted anything
more to eat and we just looked at him in disbelief. Couldn’t he see we were slowly dying?
After a brief colour returning respite sitting on the
footpath outside Luna Park we bundled back into the mighty Minx for the ride
home. The out of control very loud tangle
had turned into a messy but quiet jumble looking forward to standing on solid
not moving ground.
What a day! Turning 8
with a bang and that memory has survived 69 years. Wahoo.