Week 4: Selfie
In the 70s, a "selfie" would have been performed with an Ericofon. Charcoal pencil on primed canvas.
Showing posts with label 1970s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1970s. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Today I picked up my professionally-framed Map of Middle-Earth (by JRR Tolkien), which I have had made up to match the 2010 "Premier's Reading Challenge" poster (starring my school students!). Both framed prints are destined to hang in our new school library when it's finished. The Middle-Earth map used to hang in my bedroom (from el cheapo 70s plastic poster hangers) from 1977-1984, then it got rolled up and shunted off to the garage, where it was badly water-damaged. Two house moves later, it looks even more "antique"!
The local framer has done a magnificent job. I'll post a pic ASAP.
The local framer has done a magnificent job. I'll post a pic ASAP.
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
The 70s called - don't forget to ring back
I've gone all 70s and bought an Ericofon! And it works!
It was in the window of a flea market-style second hand store in Glebe today, with a price tag of $60 - and a little Internet research has just shown me that the current asking price for a reconditioned phone is $AU 289.00!!
"The Ericofon is a Swedish telephone handset created by Ericsson. It was designed in the late 1940s by a design team including Gösta Thames, Ralph Lysell and Hugo Blomberg. A specific feature of the telephone is that the two major components--the handset and the dial--are combined in a single unit. This one-piece design anticipated the evolution of the typical cordless phone and cell phone by several decades. The Ericofon is considered a landmark in plastic industrial design. The serial production began in 1954. The earlier models were only sold to institutions, but in 1956 production for the open market begun in Europe and Australia. In Sweden it is known as the cobra telephone, due to its similarity with the serpent."
When my family moved house in September 1977, we excitedly put in a request for a "Harvest Gold"-coloured Ericofon, like the "Ivory"-coloured ones we'd seen the "Homicide" TV detectives use, but we were notified by the then-PMG that, even though the model was still depicted in the brochures, the Ericofon had just been discontinued. We had to make do with a more standard 70s two-piece rotary dial telephone in Harvest Gold, and my paternal grandmother took custody of the more classic, angular black model the family had used had since the early 60s.
Since I now have a very 70s writing desk with Aussie showbiz connections, I figured it really needed an Ivory-coloured Ericofon somewhere on its surface.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Happy Junk Food Day to me
Yesterday had to be declared an emergency Junk Food Day due to the timing of the staff Christmas luncheon at school - yummo - and my birthday dinner at Victoria's BYO restaurant in Warrimoo in the lower Blue Mountains last night.
At school we do a Good Taste/Bad Taste Kris Kringle gift exchange - two raffle tickets at the door upon entry. I did rather well: a package of body massage creme and other pampering goodies for my Good Taste gift, and a "music of the 70s" Karaoke DVD for Bad Taste. A colleague had no need for her Bad Taste gift of pooper scooper and doggy poo bags, so Jack scored well too.
I've been to Victoria's twice before for staff dinners: once when it was sub-leased as a French restaurant, for a short while and again when it reverted to Italian with the return of the original owners. They run a birthday scheme at Victoria's, whereby on your birthday you're invited to take $25 off your meal. A deal too good to ignore, I reckon. Last night was a cosy group of four friends celebrating my last year in the fourth decade. I had the chicken pancake and the veal, with some BYO Pieroth red. Superb! (I understand they do weekend breakfasts in the summer months. I'm very tempted.)
I hope too much damage hasn't been done to my waistline. I shall know tomorrow. That's when I'm also planning to devour the huge piece of leftover pavlova I was bequeathed from the Christmas luncheon. 'Tis the season to be greedy.
At school we do a Good Taste/Bad Taste Kris Kringle gift exchange - two raffle tickets at the door upon entry. I did rather well: a package of body massage creme and other pampering goodies for my Good Taste gift, and a "music of the 70s" Karaoke DVD for Bad Taste. A colleague had no need for her Bad Taste gift of pooper scooper and doggy poo bags, so Jack scored well too.
I've been to Victoria's twice before for staff dinners: once when it was sub-leased as a French restaurant, for a short while and again when it reverted to Italian with the return of the original owners. They run a birthday scheme at Victoria's, whereby on your birthday you're invited to take $25 off your meal. A deal too good to ignore, I reckon. Last night was a cosy group of four friends celebrating my last year in the fourth decade. I had the chicken pancake and the veal, with some BYO Pieroth red. Superb! (I understand they do weekend breakfasts in the summer months. I'm very tempted.)
I hope too much damage hasn't been done to my waistline. I shall know tomorrow. That's when I'm also planning to devour the huge piece of leftover pavlova I was bequeathed from the Christmas luncheon. 'Tis the season to be greedy.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Be here now
When I was a teen, a friend had "Be here now" written by hand on her school folder for several years, and I well remember the day Monica was daubing it in white paint, on a soon-to-be-demolished brick building at my high school, during the early hours of our Higher School Certificate year Muck-up Day in 1976.
No one really had to explain what "Be here now" meant, and no one even questioned where the phrase came from but, today, Google tells me it was the title of a 1971 book on spirituality by someone called Ram Dass.
Every now and then, that little phrase comes back to me, but because it's so intrinsically linked to the precise times when I first read - and pondered - it, not only can I be here now, but I am suddenly also there now, too.
No one really had to explain what "Be here now" meant, and no one even questioned where the phrase came from but, today, Google tells me it was the title of a 1971 book on spirituality by someone called Ram Dass.
Every now and then, that little phrase comes back to me, but because it's so intrinsically linked to the precise times when I first read - and pondered - it, not only can I be here now, but I am suddenly also there now, too.
Friday, June 29, 2007
School is: OUT
Here I sit, with the school vacation finally here - two weeks, yay! - and I can't think of anything to post.
I even went through a whole stack of old photograph albums, hoping for inspiration, but every photo I thought of wasn't in the stack that happens to be on hand, or it features someone not easy to track down to ask about putting their photo on the Internet. It's been a long time since I saw some of these wonderful people, and I'd prefer that our first emails in yonks isn't an angry "Take down that pic!" demand. Just because one owns a photograph doesn't mean one took it oneself, owns the copyright or has permission from everyone in it to share it with the world in an electronic medium that wasn't even imagined when the photograph was taken.
Plus, I'm reminded about the terrible condition of my 70s and 80s era photograph albums are. No photo corners of the 60s, all of my albums were sticky-page and transparent plastic albums, and the years have either fused the photos permanently to the album pages, or the stickiness has all dried up the photos slide out onto the floor as the pages are turned. Some of the old Polaroids have turned dark, some of the regular pics have drastically altered colour - and the 3D photos from my old Nimslo 3D camera can't be scanned. (To show those, I'd have to find the negatives and order regular prints from them first, or scan the negatives on my scanner.) And I also get into a panic wondering where a few missing photo albums ended up during the big move of January 2000.
The thought of transferring all my photos to new albums is daunting beyond believe. There are also recent piles and piles of photos, all over the house, that have never been lovingly stuck in albums, or even dated and captioned.
In addition, another visit to my Sitemeter today shows me that each mention of my Andorian costume eBay purchase in the month of June brought in a record number of page views to the blog (for about a week or so), but these new visitors don't necessarily convert into regular viewers. Do I just talk about Star Trek stuff in an attempt to keep them? Furthermore, the 70s photo of Aussie actress Abigail (from her 70s autobiography) continues to be the main way people find this blog.
Sydney's Luna Park - a random, favourite photo
I even went through a whole stack of old photograph albums, hoping for inspiration, but every photo I thought of wasn't in the stack that happens to be on hand, or it features someone not easy to track down to ask about putting their photo on the Internet. It's been a long time since I saw some of these wonderful people, and I'd prefer that our first emails in yonks isn't an angry "Take down that pic!" demand. Just because one owns a photograph doesn't mean one took it oneself, owns the copyright or has permission from everyone in it to share it with the world in an electronic medium that wasn't even imagined when the photograph was taken.
Plus, I'm reminded about the terrible condition of my 70s and 80s era photograph albums are. No photo corners of the 60s, all of my albums were sticky-page and transparent plastic albums, and the years have either fused the photos permanently to the album pages, or the stickiness has all dried up the photos slide out onto the floor as the pages are turned. Some of the old Polaroids have turned dark, some of the regular pics have drastically altered colour - and the 3D photos from my old Nimslo 3D camera can't be scanned. (To show those, I'd have to find the negatives and order regular prints from them first, or scan the negatives on my scanner.) And I also get into a panic wondering where a few missing photo albums ended up during the big move of January 2000.
The thought of transferring all my photos to new albums is daunting beyond believe. There are also recent piles and piles of photos, all over the house, that have never been lovingly stuck in albums, or even dated and captioned.
In addition, another visit to my Sitemeter today shows me that each mention of my Andorian costume eBay purchase in the month of June brought in a record number of page views to the blog (for about a week or so), but these new visitors don't necessarily convert into regular viewers. Do I just talk about Star Trek stuff in an attempt to keep them? Furthermore, the 70s photo of Aussie actress Abigail (from her 70s autobiography) continues to be the main way people find this blog.
Sydney's Luna Park - a random, favourite photo
Monday, June 04, 2007
Puss in boots - and other fabulous felines
Now that I have my pro account with Flickr!, I really must do something about my tragic collection of photo albums. Most of them date back to the early 70s and were the then-innovative, original plastic sheets (and no-glue) technology. Sadly about ten years ago, most of the pages have oxidised badly - and many pages have either lost their self-adhesion, or refuse to give up the photos now seemingly bonded to the pages.
Here are three favourite cat photos!
Tiger-striped Dugil (left) was born in late 1978, and moved with me from the family home in Kingsgrove to my new Lakemba flat in late 1984. He lived a much longer life than his alley cat siblings, whom I'd tried to catch first, mainly because he was a dead ringer to my first cat, Meggsie. Named for the newspaper of the Guild Teachers College ("Dugil" is an anagram of "Guild"), Dugil loved playing "Puss in Boots", or sitting on any important sheets of paper!
Meggsie (right) was Dugil's older brother from an earlier litter. Meggsie ended up in my care in 1976 as a two-day old kitten, and was a traditional ginger tabby whom I raised on an eyedropper (during the crucial Higher School Certificate examinations). He survived our family's move from Rockdale to the new house in Kingsgrove, but lasted only three months before being skittled on Stoney Creek Road at age fourteen months. He's seven weeks old in that photo.
The black and white photo (below) illustrates a familiar Winter scenario, which we always called "frying your eyeballs". My younger brother would stretch out on the floor in front of the heater, preventing the rest of us on the couches from most of the benefits of the radiated heat. Mac, our German Shepherd/Boxer cross, would sneak between Brian and the heater to "fry his eyeballs". And then Meggsie would slide into place in front of Mac, to "fry his eyeballs".
Here are three favourite cat photos!
Tiger-striped Dugil (left) was born in late 1978, and moved with me from the family home in Kingsgrove to my new Lakemba flat in late 1984. He lived a much longer life than his alley cat siblings, whom I'd tried to catch first, mainly because he was a dead ringer to my first cat, Meggsie. Named for the newspaper of the Guild Teachers College ("Dugil" is an anagram of "Guild"), Dugil loved playing "Puss in Boots", or sitting on any important sheets of paper!
Meggsie (right) was Dugil's older brother from an earlier litter. Meggsie ended up in my care in 1976 as a two-day old kitten, and was a traditional ginger tabby whom I raised on an eyedropper (during the crucial Higher School Certificate examinations). He survived our family's move from Rockdale to the new house in Kingsgrove, but lasted only three months before being skittled on Stoney Creek Road at age fourteen months. He's seven weeks old in that photo.
The black and white photo (below) illustrates a familiar Winter scenario, which we always called "frying your eyeballs". My younger brother would stretch out on the floor in front of the heater, preventing the rest of us on the couches from most of the benefits of the radiated heat. Mac, our German Shepherd/Boxer cross, would sneak between Brian and the heater to "fry his eyeballs". And then Meggsie would slide into place in front of Mac, to "fry his eyeballs".
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Peter and the Wolf and The Weird Coincidence
Well, it's happened again. Blog about a series of coincidences often enough, and surely there'll be more coincidences. (And don't call me Shirley.)
A week ago, one set of metal shelves, from a forgotten corner of the school library, collapsed, spilling their contents of bulky, excess, to-be-deleted teacher reference materials all over the floor! I immediately put in a request for our general assistant to re-bolt the shelving to the wall, and they were repaired with great efficiency. However, the piles of scattered resources had to wait a few days for my undivided attention.
On Thursday, my school has a troupe of puppeteers visiting, to perform Sergei Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf" for the students. Last Friday, one of the teachers said she'd scoured her own book collection, wanting to find a text version of the classic story. (She'd been playing numerous variations on the spoken-word-with-musical-accompaniment version.) On Monday morning, a different teacher mentioned that she wanted a text version, too. I typed "Peter and the Wolf" into OASIS Enquiry, but... "Computer says 'No'!"
Now, my last time in a school library was a decade ago, but I often find myself remembering the collection of my last school library. There, we had a set of about a dozen picture books based on famous musical works: "Coppelia", "Swan Lake", "The Carnival of the Animals", "Peter and the Wolf" and many others. Published in the early 70s, the internal artwork was of a Japanese inspiration, often using collage. In fact, when I mentioned this series to my current colleagues, they were sure that this library used to have them, too.
A search of classroom collections uncovered first one, then three more, books in the series. They'd been deleted, and moved out of the library years ago, due to lack of their circulation in the system but, today, as I finally got to those unwanted piles on the library floor, I found nine more books - including the elusive "Peter and the Wolf"!
You know, if that shelving hadn't collapsed on cue, I would not have gotten to that dusty, to-be-deleted shelf until the visiting puppeteers were a very distant memory.
And again: doo doo, doo doo, doo doo, doo doo...
A week ago, one set of metal shelves, from a forgotten corner of the school library, collapsed, spilling their contents of bulky, excess, to-be-deleted teacher reference materials all over the floor! I immediately put in a request for our general assistant to re-bolt the shelving to the wall, and they were repaired with great efficiency. However, the piles of scattered resources had to wait a few days for my undivided attention.
On Thursday, my school has a troupe of puppeteers visiting, to perform Sergei Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf" for the students. Last Friday, one of the teachers said she'd scoured her own book collection, wanting to find a text version of the classic story. (She'd been playing numerous variations on the spoken-word-with-musical-accompaniment version.) On Monday morning, a different teacher mentioned that she wanted a text version, too. I typed "Peter and the Wolf" into OASIS Enquiry, but... "Computer says 'No'!"
Now, my last time in a school library was a decade ago, but I often find myself remembering the collection of my last school library. There, we had a set of about a dozen picture books based on famous musical works: "Coppelia", "Swan Lake", "The Carnival of the Animals", "Peter and the Wolf" and many others. Published in the early 70s, the internal artwork was of a Japanese inspiration, often using collage. In fact, when I mentioned this series to my current colleagues, they were sure that this library used to have them, too.
A search of classroom collections uncovered first one, then three more, books in the series. They'd been deleted, and moved out of the library years ago, due to lack of their circulation in the system but, today, as I finally got to those unwanted piles on the library floor, I found nine more books - including the elusive "Peter and the Wolf"!
You know, if that shelving hadn't collapsed on cue, I would not have gotten to that dusty, to-be-deleted shelf until the visiting puppeteers were a very distant memory.
And again: doo doo, doo doo, doo doo, doo doo...
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Neato!
Over at Drift, Nash is pondering quirky, antiquated, everyday phrases.
My younger brother used to get into trouble in the late 60s/early 70s for saying "Fab!" all the time - and it took me years to realise that Mum was assuming he was using "Ffffffab!" as a swear word, ie. as an alternative to a certain four-letter word. (And I guess he was, but it was all quite innocent, in that he was just repeating his friends' schoolyard catchcry. As soon as she banned "Fab!", he substituted "Fit!" instead, and still got into trouble. (The two girls who lived next door used to say "Sssssugar!" and "Schweppes!" as their secret swear words.)
I can recall "The Brady Bunch" repeats on TV keeping "Groovy!" in vogue long beyond its "Use By" date.
In the 70s, "gay" was definitely not yet in vogue as an alternative for the term "homosexual". More often, someone was said to be "camp". There was a fascinating article in an old "TV Week" or "TV Times" that talked about Joe Hasham (who played Aussie homosexual lawyer, Don Finlayson in "Number 96") having a gay time at a party. ;)
"Neato!" I first heard during a one-night stopover in Hawaii in December 1983. I was able to meet up with an art class fellow student, who happened to be there to run in the annual Hawaii Marathon, and he explained it was the current "in" word. I started using it myself all 'round the USA - complete with phony American accent, and I was surprised that it did end up in use in Sydney a few years later - but usually just as "Neat".
And "Neat!" was totally overshadowed by "Sad!" (meaning "Good") in the 80s, "Cool!" (or indeed "Kewl") in the 2000s, and "Sick!" and "Fully sick!" in 2006.
My younger brother used to get into trouble in the late 60s/early 70s for saying "Fab!" all the time - and it took me years to realise that Mum was assuming he was using "Ffffffab!" as a swear word, ie. as an alternative to a certain four-letter word. (And I guess he was, but it was all quite innocent, in that he was just repeating his friends' schoolyard catchcry. As soon as she banned "Fab!", he substituted "Fit!" instead, and still got into trouble. (The two girls who lived next door used to say "Sssssugar!" and "Schweppes!" as their secret swear words.)
I can recall "The Brady Bunch" repeats on TV keeping "Groovy!" in vogue long beyond its "Use By" date.
In the 70s, "gay" was definitely not yet in vogue as an alternative for the term "homosexual". More often, someone was said to be "camp". There was a fascinating article in an old "TV Week" or "TV Times" that talked about Joe Hasham (who played Aussie homosexual lawyer, Don Finlayson in "Number 96") having a gay time at a party. ;)
"Neato!" I first heard during a one-night stopover in Hawaii in December 1983. I was able to meet up with an art class fellow student, who happened to be there to run in the annual Hawaii Marathon, and he explained it was the current "in" word. I started using it myself all 'round the USA - complete with phony American accent, and I was surprised that it did end up in use in Sydney a few years later - but usually just as "Neat".
And "Neat!" was totally overshadowed by "Sad!" (meaning "Good") in the 80s, "Cool!" (or indeed "Kewl") in the 2000s, and "Sick!" and "Fully sick!" in 2006.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Any faded surfers out there?
I have a really great idea for a piece of fiction I'm working on, and I'm hoping to find a few genuine Aussie surfies (from the 70s or 80s) with whom to have some dialogue.
Is there anyone reading this who was heavily into that unique subculture in the late 70s, and through the 80s and early 90s? I'm interested in learning about you, your surfing techniques, "rules" of the "tribes", the beach fashions of the day, and hairstyles. Perhaps I can also build up a glossary of surfer terms, but specific to the 70s and 80s, please, and examples of comradeship with other surfies. Even surfie games and initiation rites would be excellent, or is there a code of silence like that of biker groups and freemasons?
I could read a book on Australian surfing culture, I suppose, like "Puberty Blues", or rummage some second hand bookshops for old surfing magazines, but I'd rather hear something first hand, and from the male perspective. (Frankie Avalon/Annette Funicello beach party movies aren't going to be much help for what I have in mind.) Please let me know...
Is there anyone reading this who was heavily into that unique subculture in the late 70s, and through the 80s and early 90s? I'm interested in learning about you, your surfing techniques, "rules" of the "tribes", the beach fashions of the day, and hairstyles. Perhaps I can also build up a glossary of surfer terms, but specific to the 70s and 80s, please, and examples of comradeship with other surfies. Even surfie games and initiation rites would be excellent, or is there a code of silence like that of biker groups and freemasons?
I could read a book on Australian surfing culture, I suppose, like "Puberty Blues", or rummage some second hand bookshops for old surfing magazines, but I'd rather hear something first hand, and from the male perspective. (Frankie Avalon/Annette Funicello beach party movies aren't going to be much help for what I have in mind.) Please let me know...
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
PURLs before swine
After starting up my blog last year, I was excited to discover that numerous friends - from various stages of my life - had blogs of their own. But sometimes I found that their online presence had been abandoned after only a few weeks or months of blogging; my messages of greeting and hopeful reunion perhaps never to be found. Sigh...
I sometimes find myself pondering what would happen to my various websites should I suddenly not be around any more.
Luckily for one of them, way back in 1999, my Number 96 Home Page was catalogued and "captured" for inclusion in the online PANDORA Archive. It was quite a thrill: my home page was selected for the first exclusive group of (three) Internet sites about Australian television programs to appear in the National Library of Australia's online public access catalogue, alongside the official websites for The Panel and the long-forgotten Good Guys, Bad Guys! In 1999, The Panel and Good Guys, Bad Guys were both current shows; my site honours an Aussie soap opera from the 1970s, and the site has been running since "the Year of '96" (wink).
NUMBER 96 HOME PAGE
PANDORA has since catalogued many other Australian TV show websites. They simply web whack* the site as it existed at time of cataloguing (ie. mine on 26 Nov, 1999), but once only, and give it a PURL (persistent URL). They also provide a hot link to the current updated site (if it continues to exist, which - so far - mine does). The Panel's URL now only links to Working Dog's production house site, and the original Good Guys, Bad Guys website has vanished completely! ("Why wasn't I told?" Dorrie would ask.)
Even if, somehow, Ian McLean, web composer, vanishes, the Number 96 Home Page shall continue forever!
* "Web whacking" is when someone downloads a copy of an entire website to their hard drive. Of course, doing that means they never get to see any future changes that are made by the web composer. But it does preserve for posterity an early version that even the website owners might not keep in their files.
I sometimes find myself pondering what would happen to my various websites should I suddenly not be around any more.
Luckily for one of them, way back in 1999, my Number 96 Home Page was catalogued and "captured" for inclusion in the online PANDORA Archive. It was quite a thrill: my home page was selected for the first exclusive group of (three) Internet sites about Australian television programs to appear in the National Library of Australia's online public access catalogue, alongside the official websites for The Panel and the long-forgotten Good Guys, Bad Guys! In 1999, The Panel and Good Guys, Bad Guys were both current shows; my site honours an Aussie soap opera from the 1970s, and the site has been running since "the Year of '96" (wink).
NUMBER 96 HOME PAGE
PANDORA has since catalogued many other Australian TV show websites. They simply web whack* the site as it existed at time of cataloguing (ie. mine on 26 Nov, 1999), but once only, and give it a PURL (persistent URL). They also provide a hot link to the current updated site (if it continues to exist, which - so far - mine does). The Panel's URL now only links to Working Dog's production house site, and the original Good Guys, Bad Guys website has vanished completely! ("Why wasn't I told?" Dorrie would ask.)
Even if, somehow, Ian McLean, web composer, vanishes, the Number 96 Home Page shall continue forever!
* "Web whacking" is when someone downloads a copy of an entire website to their hard drive. Of course, doing that means they never get to see any future changes that are made by the web composer. But it does preserve for posterity an early version that even the website owners might not keep in their files.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Mego Museum freebies
In the mail today came my complimentary set of fourteen Mego Museum trading cards, #39 to 52 inclusive, featuring the highly-coveted Mego 8" Star Trek action figures from the 1970s. All one had to do to get these cards was send both email and postal addresses to the guys who run the Mego Museum website.
The photography is very nice. The designers and photographers have managed to get those early figures, including the ultra-rare Andorian and Romulan figures, into some great poses. The monochrome cardbacks feature "Mego Facts", and trivia questions and answers. Too bad the mailing list has been closed off for now, or they'd be swamped with more word-of-mouth orders.
The photography is very nice. The designers and photographers have managed to get those early figures, including the ultra-rare Andorian and Romulan figures, into some great poses. The monochrome cardbacks feature "Mego Facts", and trivia questions and answers. Too bad the mailing list has been closed off for now, or they'd be swamped with more word-of-mouth orders.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Purple and gold in 1975
Okay, so I was searching through my old photograph albums and this Polaroid fell out from its position on a page marked "At home - 1975".
It's the bedroom of my teenage years, when we lived in Highclere Avenue, Rockdale. Thankfully, you can't see the purple chenille bedspread or the gold net nylon continuous curtains. But you can see: my then-newly-purchased b/w portable television set (for watching "Number 96" and all-night Saturday movies); flocked creature from the Sydney Royal Easter Show; a souvenir temperature gauge from Canberra; Mickey Mouse poster (also featuring much purple and gold); a little flocked purple cow; a larger flocked gold bull money box; matching flocked purple bull money box; and (barely visible at the bottom) a glow-in-the-dark Kooky Spooky finger puppet from Christmas 1969. Her name was Grandma Macreak! (Grandma is still with me, and worth a small fortune on eBay, I understand.)
"Grandma Macreak"
Kooky Spooky (1968) retailers ad
With thanks to the gang at the Universal Monster Army BBS.
It's the bedroom of my teenage years, when we lived in Highclere Avenue, Rockdale. Thankfully, you can't see the purple chenille bedspread or the gold net nylon continuous curtains. But you can see: my then-newly-purchased b/w portable television set (for watching "Number 96" and all-night Saturday movies); flocked creature from the Sydney Royal Easter Show; a souvenir temperature gauge from Canberra; Mickey Mouse poster (also featuring much purple and gold); a little flocked purple cow; a larger flocked gold bull money box; matching flocked purple bull money box; and (barely visible at the bottom) a glow-in-the-dark Kooky Spooky finger puppet from Christmas 1969. Her name was Grandma Macreak! (Grandma is still with me, and worth a small fortune on eBay, I understand.)
"Grandma Macreak"
Kooky Spooky (1968) retailers ad
With thanks to the gang at the Universal Monster Army BBS.
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