Shaped on a holiday

Again it is not surprising that it is the harsher memories that one tends more easily to recall. They obviously have left a deeper trench in the furrows of the mind and body (literally). There were some wonderful moments growing up with my brothers and sisters, and several terrible moments (as would be attested by my younger brother who, as this current blog thread unfolds, was lying in a hospital with a serious head wound). But engagement by my father with the children was isolated to few of those actual moments. I mentioned earlier that we did not have a vehicle so, we tended not to travel anywhere as a family, particularly for any holidays. Nothing more than a day trip to the beach across town on the bus, or later we kids would make the 12km ride on our bikes. We did have one holiday with our father and some of the younger children. When we were in Dunedin itself, where my father was Postmaster at the main post office. We had the opportunity for a weeks holiday at a post office holiday home at Waikouaiti, up the coast from Dunedin, about 30kms out of the town. I believe my mother wasn’t with us, as she had to go in to hospital, so the opportunity was taken for a week away with our father.

We had to travel up on the daily Christchurch-bound main highway bus, travelling north and late in the afternoon we walked from the bus stop to the small cottage near the beach. A long sandy beach stretching north and south with a strong sea breeze buffeting us as we stood at the top of the dunes. Of course, like any excited holiday children we wanted to go for a swim straight away. No. That may happen tomorrow we were told. There were bunk beds in the room and after a simple dinner, whose preparation was supervised by our father, we eventually went to bed, where after several threats to be quiet from our father in the adjoining room, to finally fall sleep full of excitement at the prospect of the week ahead.

We woke the next morning to the sound of rain smashing against the windows. A serious storm had driven in from the sea and was crashing against the cottage. The temperature was cold (not that unusual for the south of New Zealand) and we were going to be stuck inside as the storm was going to remain for the entire day. Banging against the side of the cottage, which creaked and shook somewhat in the gusting winds. There were a few board games which we soon had out after breakfast and began playing and by the early afternoon there was a certain rise in the ‘tension in the air’ as our father, never a fan of being alone with the children was forced to endure the usual arguments over dice rolls, cards collected or moves made. Tensions were rising, as children’s tend to do, over minor decisions. Our father’s over forced enclosure.

(Continued tomorrow)