Life was so different back then, you have no idea. When I was in year 11 and 12 (5th and 6th form back then) we had our own common rooms, one for the smokers and one for the non-smokers. The smokers were Westies, rough, bikie-chicks, sharpies, non-virgins, or just too cool. The non-smokers were arty, nerdy, odd shapes and sizes, virgins, and a scattering of lesbians.
I was the only surfer, I was in the non-smokers but I sort of fitted in wherever I went. I was popular without trying. I worked in a jeans shop on Thursday nights and Saturday mornings, and if the surf was pumping I’d wag school. Somehow I was voted in as a prefect and a house captain. Shit, all I wanted to do was go surfing, not organise training sessions for athletic carnivals and break up bitch-fights in the toilets. I still have my badges and think of the poor girls who would’ve busted their guts to be house captain. I didn’t even turn up for the carnival. I went surfing. I knew my priorities!
My vice captain took over all organising and seemed to relish the responsibilities. When I was there, I made pompoms, and sniffed pink zinc. We became great friends. Our house won both the athletics and the swimming carnival. I was told that my pompoms were the fluffiest there.
I sailed before I surfed. My parents wanted us four girls to have some sort of weekend recreation. We tried horse riding first but my sister wanted a dog, we tried tennis but I couldn’t hit the ball, ballet was next but my sister broke her arm, then it was ice-skating, and my sister broke her leg! So we tried sailing. We’d often be black-and-blue from bumping ourselves and capsizing so often, but we never broke anything (except a few masts, rudders, batons etc). We loved it, and we met boys. I always loved the water, but sailing introduced me to the sea and the wind, and there is nothing like a shy-run, with the spinnaker flying, the boat planing out of the water, leaning out on a thin plank or a trapeze, with spray flying in your face and your whoop, whoop, whooping without even realising it. It’s almost as much fun as surfing!
My best friend in my sailing days, beside my boat, was my pushbike. None of my sisters had a bike; I bought it from this funny skinny boy. I payed 10 bucks for it, a rip-off back then but I would’ve payed 20. I was crazy on my bike, I’d skid, do wheelies and crash, but I never hurt myself … and then my surf mat became my best friend.
I got chundered a million times, gasping for breath before the next wave drilled me into the sand, eventually coming up, my bikini tops and bottom hanging off me full of sand, seaweed wrapped around me, looking like a wild sea creature. Phew, I’d get my breath and then paddle out for more! Boogie boards weren’t around then; the only other alternative was a Coolite board. Mats were popular with chicks, they wrapped up in your towel, or could hide in your school bag. How portable is that!
