Real Life Jef

My earliest and clearest memories of my early childhood were of the wonder of the world. The faithful and loving big black dog, Scampy, who just loved Mike and I. Then there were the cats, Ginger and Lucy. I would pet Lucy roughly and she would turn and bite me, little did I understand her actions, because I was terrified of being scratched and bitten by her. But now, as an adult, do I know she did this because she liked it! My brother and I would run along the concrete sides of the Queenslander, chasing eachother around the house again and again - making sure we didn't walk into the bindi patch that always seemed to grow in the cooler, lusher grass that grew in the shade between the fence and the eastern side of the old home. Playing with water, damming beneath the home when it rained were always fun. I also remember the smell of the hedgeflowers in spring, and playing with the frangipani flowers - the treat of watermellons, Grandma and Grandpa, both whom which died when I was very, very young. I remember Grandpa's pipe, and the stubble on his face - he was an avid collector of stones and gems, he'd collect large drums of rocks from trips all over the south-east. I like rambling and remembering all this. I don't often get to relate this to anyone, so this is as best a chance to tell. All I remember was how young I was at the time, how new, exciting and large everything seemed. Softdrink and Boxed Potatoe Chips were weekend treats, and if you were good, a paddlepop. And the rain, it seemed to rain often when I was younger. The heat of the day did not last long, for it was broken, always around 3pm by storms. In the morning, you'd wake to a fresh and clean world. I liked the world I came into.