Still early memories flood in

 

 
    The rain is pouring down, and walking the mile or so to school at the corner of Owairaka Avenue and Richardson Road is impossible, so Dad gets out the newly purchased second-hand Austin Seven (1929), with its collapsible hood of canvas and celluloid, bought from a younger friend on final leave for five pounds, and uses some of his precious ration of petrol (one gallon per month) to ferry us to school. He puts Olwyn and me and four or five other neighbourhood children in the car and drops us dripping wet at school.

  I am sitting in the Sandringham church building writing answers to questions in the Sunday School examinations, questions about Bible stories, this year from Genesis. We have been coached by the minister for several weeks to make sure we know the answers.

 

      It is school holidays, and we are staying, as we often do, with Granny and Grandpa Gaze at their Milford bach. The whole family has come down to Milford Beach for a swim, and then I can play my favourite game on the beach, which is to find an old piece of wood, make it into a tram, and lay out the whole Auckland tram system on the sand and run the tram along all the routes.

Doing this I am happy as the day is long, except for inconsiderate strollers who scuff the sand as they walk over my tram system and wipe out miles of it! But, of course, we have to go home for lunch at some stage and we all pick up our things and drag ourselves along the road to the bach.

 

      It is Saturday afternoon in winter. The tennis/basketball courts next to our house are seething with life, as various basketball teams compete in a tournament. Mummy and her friends are playing in their black gym frocks and Dad is looking after us and (presumably) looking after the afternoon tea for the players.

 

     We are at school at lunchhour. We are playing a game of cops and robbers in the hedge and the air-raid shelters down the side of the playing fields at Owairaka School.