I was rummaging through my files earlier this week, and I came across some photos showing me at my snotty, mulleted best.
The first is of me radding out like the Queen of Radland:
Please note my banging Turtles ensemble, complete with what I think was a shit knock off Turtles baseball cap with a transfer on it. Could also be Rainbow, I had a few. I wish the ‘Computer – enhance!’ thing they do on TV really existed.
Why was it fashionable back then to take bloody diagonal photos?
Also note my awesome and rad Leonardo and Donatello knock offs, purchased from a market stall in Ingoldmells, our premiere holiday destination.
However, please refrain from noticing my crap and lame socks ‘n’ pink sandals combo. This was my mother’s doing, and admittedly does slightly negate the radness of my appearance.
Incidentally, does anyone have any photos of Ingoldmells in the 80s/early 90s? I’d love to see more of it from before Fantasy Island was built. Hit me up if you do anyway, that would be smashing.
Next we have a super fun ladybird ride:
My God I was an ugly kid. Anyway, the main point of interest in this photo is the ride, not me. This was a brilliant ride back in the day, for several reasons:
1. It went round and round and up and down.
2. Not too hardcore for a coward like me. I was far too afraid and small back then to go on rides with names like ‘The Pisswazzer’.
3. Relatively cheap and ubiquitous – could be found at most seasides, and at many car boots, outdoor markets etc. Probably 20-50p a go, so I would probably have threatened to piss myself unless I had a ride.
Last up, Christmas Day!
The audience’s attention will please be drawn first to the cock ‘n’ balls balloons on the wall. No one is telling me that wasn’t deliberate. And I don’t know whose idea it was to sellotape my shit Christmas drawing to the wallpaper, but I bet they regretted it later.
Other than that, here I am proudly posing/gurning with my dad and my haul of presents. Let me tell you, that Bluebird Market Stall was the best thing that had ever happened to me. The fact that all the bits got lost a week later is not important. Also, that dress was really bloody itchy. My mother’s doing, again. Thanks Mummy. And thanks for the supermullet.