JUST ME, BACK IN THE EARLY 1970's - PART 1

Still clearing through boxes in our 2025 downsizing project. Gregg came across these old photos of me, taken in the early and mid 1970's. When he put them in my hands, I could hardly comprehend that they were taken 50 years ago. Who is that young girl leaning against a snowbank? It's me! 

I decided to put them on here, along with the memories of each photo, so that our son could read them in the years ahead and hopefully have a chuckle. Hopefully you will too, or feel to skip most of it. I certainly won't be offended. 

In the next batch Gregg brings in, there were more of him when I asked. The photo above was taken on a walk on one of the trails around Seefeld in Austria. The name of where we stayed just popped into my head. It was the Hotel Hohe Munde. I don't remember what it looked like too much on the outside, typically Tyrolean I would say, but I remember the dance floor and the coffee shop and a wide staircase. I saved for almost two years to be able to go with a group of good friends, hotel and air fare included, plus skiing lessons and our evening meal.

I wasn't fond of the skiing part. In No.1 - it looks like I am trying to figure out which ski goes on which foot. No. 2 - I managed to stay on those feet for a while. No 3 - I finally gave up on the skis for a bit and decided to use this contraption. No. 4 definitely more my style. I would be the one being pulled instead of the toddler shown. I understood why there were skiers who looked so at ease, as if they had been born to it. I saw many a toddler attached to and straddling their parents' legs with their tiny feet resting on their parents' skis as they skied downhill, albeit more gently and slower than they normally would have done, and on the bunny slopes as they were called. The seeds are sown early.

In the next photo I am standing in front of The Golden Roof. It doesn't look so golden, but these photos have faded. I'm glad we found them when we did as they are deteriorating rapidly. What do I expect after not seeing the light of day for all these years?

In those early days, not long after we met, we were talking of places visited and found that we were in Innsbruck about the same time. Gregg was on an exchange tour with the British Navy and had time off. All his shipmates and friends were married and had gone home to be with their family. As it was a fairly short holiday, he had not flown back to the States and decided to see a bit of Europe. Innsbruck was on his itinerary. 

I had gone with a group of friends but decided to take a bus trip to Innsbruck one day, which the travel person at the hotel had recommended. I don't remember going with anyone else and maybe a tourist took this photo of me. The facts seem a bit fuzzy of how-tos after all these years. 

So, there was Gregg looking around the city moreorless at the same time as I was, and fancifully thinking, it was almost as if the fates were trying to tell us something. Two months later we met in my hometown. 

A little bit of history, the Golden Roof was completed in the year 1500 and was decorated with 2,657 fire-gilded copper tiles for Emperor Maximilian I, to mark his wedding to Bianca Maria Sforza. The Emperor and his wife used the balcony to observe festivals, tournaments and other events that took place in the square below. The rest of the history can be read here. Seefeld, the town where I was spending my vacation, was only about an hour. 

I was closer to home in the next few photos, 12 hours plus by car from my home in Devonshire. Friend Moira and I are sitting next to a cannon on the battlements of Edinburgh Castle. This time I was away for a week's holiday. Moira's Dad was going on a business trip to St. Andrews in Scotland, and Moira suggested the three of us (also our friend Geraldine) spend a week in her dad's tent a little further north, and he dropped us off.

 

I had never been camping before and was eager to try it. I seem to remember my parents rolling their eyes when I told them what I was going to do. Dad occasionally would call me a hot-house flower, I liked my comfort too much he said. He couldn't imagine his youngest daughter going all the way up to Scotland and sleeping in a tent for seven nights in some strange place. Mum would fondly nod in my direction, agreeing with Dad. "Are you sure you really want to go camping?" with emphasis on the last word. Except for one long weekend on Dartmoor with a bunch of workmates the following year, I never went camping again. Definitely a hot house flower but that week up in Scotland, I wouldn't have traded that for the world. Enjoyed it from start to finish.

The photo above shows us playing cards in that lovely tent that was our home for a week, by a lovely windy loch, anchored to two strong, solid oak trees. None of us had been camping before and didn't really know how to do a simple thing like pitch a tent. It blew down that first night in pouring rain. Did we care? Not really! We couldn't stop laughing as we struggled to hoist it back up, pouring down with rain, catching all the flapping parts and digging them firmly onto the spikes which we hammered into the ground. Lesson learned, it stayed up for the rest of the week.  

There was a pub down the road and a small general shop. I seem to remember the pub people owning the camping ground. We went to two castles, Edinburgh and Stirling. There was a public bus once a week, which is how we got to these castles I suppose. Fuzzy memories on the hows after all this time. 

We walked down to the pub each night and one evening we were adopted by a young local couple we had gotten to know. The next night they invited us to go to their home for the evening. It was one of those self-entertainment get togethers, where the husband played a guitar, the wife sang Scottish folk songs, which we were invited to sing along to, and another of their friends recited Scottish poetry. We ate bread and cheese, ate crisps and drank pop. The hospitality was outstanding. Didn't want it to end and didn't leave until we were dropping off at well after midnight. Our hosts were only too ready to keep the evening going.

We were the only ones at the camping ground so we could take our pick of spots. We never found it boring. I don't remember much about the meals, but they were simple enough. We cooked spaghetti on a burner with lots of delicious bread still warm from the oven and freshly churned butter from that small shop not too far from the pub, all within a short walking distance. The pub always seemed to be quiet when we were there, with only a few locals.

On the last day when we were waiting for Moira's Dad so that we could start the journey home, a group of army lads turned up and started pitching their tent. They had some free time they said and decided to come up here from wherever they were stationed. We girls looked at each other and rolled our eyes but just as well we were leaving I suppose. A flash of my Dad’s disapproving expression just came to me. Gregg often says I have that same expression. I can hear my Mum saying, “Oh Stanley!” as she wrung her hands with worry. They needn’t have been concerned, but we are parents so we know how it goes. Dad gifted his girls with good head sense and taught skills that I still have today. I also have always had an overly cautious nature. Anyhow, those lads seemed very nice. We waved to them from the car as we headed south. It was a great feeling getting home, the same feeling I get now. Great to see my Mum and Dad again, and my Mum was particularly relieved I had such a good time but was now under her roof. Dad just rolled his eyes as I rolled mine and we had a bit of a laugh. Our dog Jason was filled with joy and his tail was like a whirlybird. He wouldn't leave my side for several days. Yes, it was good to get home.

This is Jason, our golden labrador. He was my baby. He didn't like other little dogs though, and we had to be careful taking him on walks. When he was a puppy and we hadn’t had him for long, we were on the high street in Totnes, and a passing terrier jumped up and bit him really hard on the end of his nose and wouldn't let go. He bled and bled and bled and was in such a state, poor pup. We had to keep him away from small dogs for evermore. I loved him dearly, a real sweet boy and he loved everyone who came to our house with even their dogs, but not terriers or other small dogs.

It's been a bit of a ramble and am sorry it's gone on for so long, but those photos started the memories flowing.

I have more photos and memories to share but I will give you a break and split this post into two parts, sharing the other in a few days or so.

Thanks for visiting and thank you for indulging me in my ramble. Have a great day!