I lived in Narrogin until I was two and something years of age. I know that we were still living there in April 1979 as I have a photo of me, my brother and Carl (family friend) standing on a verandah. It's my favourite photo. I'm staring off into space (as usual daydreaming), my brother is looking at me, and Carl is looking at my brother. We're dressed in the epitome of 70s childrens fashion. I'm rocking a burgandy pinafore, Carl's got on a tight mustard yellow tshirt and my brother's wearing a matching blue on blue polo shirt with massive collars and short shorts with a belt. If you look closely at the photo you can see two other random things; a white jelly bean on the verandah table and a lone thong, laying abandoned.
I remember some things about Narrogin still. I remember the first house we lived in had multicoloured striped carpet, predominatly mustard, brown and turquoise. I also remember our house being next to an empty block and walking across that block with my brother and our Great Dane dog to the neighbours house. I also vaguely remember peacock feathers in a vase on a hall stand in a neighbour's house. At that same neighbour's house (who were Carl's parents) I remember sitting in their childrens' activity room cutting out paper shapes with a pair of Wonder Woman scissors. I also remember crawling through the hedges on their front lawn, emerging from the dark and damp maze covered in dirt, scratches and my mum telling me off for going missing.
I don't remember leaving Narrogin, or moving out of our house, but I do remember moving into our new house in Perth. I remember being very excited. I remember my dad's Ford Falcon. I remember liking our new mission brown letter box. Number 8 Eskdale Street. I'd look down the hill and across what to me at the time was a huge expanse of trees and valley and to the other mountainous side of the valley. These days I know it to be a mere hill with an oval inbetween. But to me as a two year old it was the universe, I might as well have been looking out towards Mars, for all my ability to make it there at the age two.
I don't remember trip down to Perth, it's like the trip was just so traumatic my little baby brain turned off. Which might be explained by the following. My father somehow bamboozled my mother into transporting in her two door hatchback Celica the following items:
1 x five year old
1 x two year old
1 x Great Dane dog
1 x cat
various kitchen paraphenalia
As you can imagine, that three hour trip must have been quite...eventful. No wonder I can't remember it. I most likely tuned out or went into a protective coma.
My dad somehow made the trip down to Perth with nothing but an empty sedan and airconditioning.