UNDER 3

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Sometime around late 1961 this photo was taken of my brother Åke, me and some of the girls from the neighborhood in Cottesloe, with all of us, as you can see, dressed up for a masquerade party or gathering.

No place on earth could have given us boys from Sweden a greater pleasure than those sunny Western Australian beaches where we could play around all day, try and tackle the surf or go beach combing for shells and capsules. In  those early days of innocence and laughter we  became almost  as amphibious as a pair of frogs, prob- ably spending more time in the water than up on land.

Or even doing things which little girls are more into, like going out with a pram or two!

And this is me posing with my dearest pos- session, that well beaten Australian football of mine. By this time we had moved away from the city to the small, rural town of Katanning. Life was nice and kind of slow there though a little bit rough, while my father had finally gotten himself a steady job teaching woodwork to the kids at high school. But inevitably our hearts still yearned for the ocean and so eventually the family purchased a summer residency in Kwinana on the west coast.

The family out with the first car we had, heading down Albany way while passing along side of  Stirling range, which I was deeply fascinated by.


Here dad and a friend of the family are burning off dry grass just prior to the summer season. It's something every house owner had to attend to in order to prevent unexpected fires from blazing up around their property.

If you couldn't make out who the boys were on the previous shot, here's a better presentation!

And fairly soon we had gotten acquainted with most of the kids in the area, playing "cowboys and indians", "simon says", "hide and seek" and doing most of the things boys do, like wrestling for instance.

This is my first chance meeting with a koala, even though this photo was taken at  a zoo somewhere near Perth.

Here's my dear mother perched on a fallen gum tree somewhere in the vicinity of Katanning or there abouts.

Once again here is my mother, this time holding my youngest brother Niklas only a few days after he was born, thus being (or once having been) the only true fair din cum Aussie of all our family members! In the background is our Chrysler Valiant which regularly carried us vast distances from our habitat in the wheat district all the way up to our summer residency in Kwinana and then back again.

Sometimes it could get out of hands as one had to pay close attention to how and where the wind was blowing. No easy match for a beginner, but an obligation one just couldn't escape from if you didn't want to get interrogated by the local authorities!

   And  down below you can see our summer house in Kwinana where we spent long, hot summer days and
sticky summer nights while great big huntsman spiders chased around the walls jumping on to
prey at no less than lightning speed.

Here is Ruth (who I was secretly in love with), her naughty brother Colin, our dog Candy (the mail man's worst fear) and me, all of us happily posing in front of my daddy, the camera man.

From left to right are two brothers Morffit and Peter, Åke and Niklas Lindahl, all of us enjoying a spree out in the sunshine. Make note of that no one is wearing shoes, something which was taken for granted  in those days whether it was summer or winter; or at least it was with us Lindahl boys. Also you can see me wearing my school uniform sweater which shows how proud I was to be a student of Pinjarra high school.

One day I hope to be able to put on display some more photos taken during the last part of our Australian days when we were living in Mandurah, which is a fair distance down south from Kwinana. Dad continued during this period to teach woodwork, this time at Pinjarra High school where I also attended class for a year and a half. During this period I gained some of the best friends I've ever gotten to know, from left to right Jeff Carroll and Melvyn Tuckey, with whom I am still in contact though it took me more than forty years to find them again. To the right is a small image of my old class mate Melvyn in the year of  1965.

It was a lovely place to go on holidays, seated in a really wild coastal area where I believe today the industrial complex and residencial habitats of New town have spread out. While to the left you can see parts of the family gathered together with a few visiting friends and in the foreground me patting our kelpy named Candy (a descendant from Misha, the dog snitching a ride in that cart on the previous page), later quite unexpectedly becoming a price winning champion among sheep dogs of the greater Katanning district.

The family picking wild flowers along one of our many car trips when we were living in the agricultural town of Katanning.

Now to the left is one of a series of photos taken around the mid 60s in Mandurah and Pinjarra of Western Australia, this image delivered to me just recently by my old friend Melvyn Tuckey who still lives in Mandurah. While below is a photo taken by the custom officials just as we (the family) were leaving on our long journey back to Sweden in July 1966.
To the left is my father Sven looking as straight faced as ever trying on this occasion not to reveal that he was actually not wearing any pants, these having been accidentally stowed away somewhere among our luggage! While at his side is little old me waiting to get on board the ship taking us all the way back to Sweden.

So this is where we leave Western Australia behind, the image up to the left showing my parents and me in the dining hall of the passenger ship called "Fairstar", while the pic up above, on this side, is a shot taken from the Fremantle wharf just before our departure. In the midst of the waving crowd is my mum and brother Åke looking smug as ever and happily unaware of the terrible storm we were to face within the next week on the leg of our journey which took us from from Adelaide to Melbourne.  It was an unhappy ending to our 5½ years in OZ which took us for a rough and tumble ride  that  went on for a whole night and well into the next day, giving us a really wild and horrifying perspective on the full throttle power of a  Roaring forties winter hurricane.

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