Little people have such fat, fumbly, adorable hands
We had a final year 12 assembly today, and I had to rummage through old picture collections to find a few baby photos. Thanks to the flatbed scanner in the art room, they've been transformed into ones and zeroes. Consecutive order, folks.
That's my brother, Michael. He would be about ten or eleven in these pictures.
Hehehe. :D
'
I want that guitar back. :D
Outside North St, Fitzroy. We lived opposite a park, Red Symons walked past once and remarked upon my cuteness, I remember that fence vividly. Pants = Hotstuff, and the absentmindedness is revealing itself early, we see.
I is drawing at Creche. We had a teacher with a leather jacket and a motorbike, everyone would crowd against the fence each afternoon and squeal as he drove away. There was a nasty boy who would chase me around and shout, "You've go-ot boo-bies, you've go-ot boo-bies!" W
We would climb up giant browny peachy carpeted stairs, into the big kids' kinder, and sing The Lion Sleeps Tonight, and see who could close both eyes and who could wink (not me) and I remember writing my name. I did humungous colourful paintings.
Mum sewed me many clothes, including this tshirt. I remember the fabric. She sewed a hundred pairs of undies out of a sheet (or shirts?) and she sewed my older brother and sisters and I fluoro bikeshorts.
On the footpath outside North Street. I'm wearing my ballet costume, and this is my family (though at that stage, I was only one of five.)
Near Piedemonte's? I remember the tiny lady who would always exclaim every time I saw her, about how much bigger I had grown. At this point we were the same height. :) This was my school dress cum art smock.
