I had a birthday, never mind the number. As is usual, Prue gave me books, feeding my reading habit in the best possible way.
While we are away on holiday in Auckland and other northern parts, I’m starting my reading with Rachel Kushner’s The Flame Throwers. Nineteen seventies New York, with artists and motorcycles so far, reminding me that my 1970s were spent in the suburbs of Auckland, teaching primary (grade) school and coming home to my own two children.
This era, the 1970s, is now treated as history. When I see an exhibition of ephemera, or photographs depicting events of this time, I want to say, “that’s not history, that’s my life.” Which in fact it never is, unless the items relate to suburban life in Auckland, New Zealand.
I’m away on holiday as I write this, and don’t have a way to add photos, so I’ll include the one I took, as always, of the birthday book pile, next time.
out there 