January 22nd Freaking Flashbacks in Clarence Street

Well today is a blast from the past. I had to attend a Specialist's appointment (nothing major, they were just checking if I have a brain), and when I looked at the street name, I thought whoa I used to live in that Street. This was approximately 1975 to 1976, it is that long ago that I can't remember how long we stayed there or even the house number - and thought nothing of it. Until I got there.

Then deja vu hit me. This was a house we rented, which eight of us shared. This was the house.

No wheelchair ramp back in our day. Just the steps. That window you can see at the front steps was my bedroom.

I am so glad I was early for my appointment, as memories came flooding back. Whilst living in this house, I was working sole charge for an Accountant - a very grumpy old bugger with huge big bushy eyebrows,  (as this blog is public I won't name names as he may still have descendants here in Hamilton). As well as that job, from Wednesday to Saturday evenings I was waitressing at the hippest (and only) night club in Hamilton - 'The Lady Hamilton'

OK I know those of you  who know me, can't picture me as a waitress. I did it with the goal of saving funds for the big OE across to Australia, gasp - that was a big adventure (now we can pop across for a weekend).  Although I recall one night telling one patron to fork off (but I didn't use the work fork), as we wore these silly frilly aprons with long ties at the back and he tied mine to a post in the booth.  And then there was the sweet taxi driver who used to drive me home every night I worked, absolutely no strings attached, as he was concerned for me leaving after midnight to head home. Which looking back now was a cool thing for him to do.

Anyway I am digressing as I head down memory lane. Here is the reception area, and my bed (ok I was young and broke and it was a mattress on the floor) was under this very window.  I almost wished I could secretly carve somewhere in that room - Irene Slept Here. Yes, here is my bedroom....

And finally the driveway from hell. Looks innocent doesn't it. But can you imagine being tipsy, ok remember I was young, and I admit to being quite drunk, and walking down that driveway in 6 inch wedge heels and the front of the shoe curved upwards (ie didn't touch the ground).  Grant, whom I later married, walked me down this driveway with me clutching on to him for dear life. Whenever we went out after that, he asked me to please not wear the wedges - I wonder why?

Oh memories, how sweet and funny they are. I never thought I would see the inside of our Clarence Street house again.