We loved going with my Grandfather to the shops at Kingsgrove. Being country children the walk down the street, past all the red brick and tiled bungalows, gave us plenty to gawk at.  Reaching the shops from the rear we would walk through an arcade to the main shopping precinct. 

When we went with Pa our excursion took us to different shops to those we went to with Grandma. He took us to exciting shops that had plenty of items for sale that interested us. The newsagent had books and colouring books whilst the hardware shop had equipment that we had never seen; our father having no idea how to do anything handy.

My Grandfather and brother spent hours in the toy shop, fixated by the tiny metal pieces that could be purchased to expand the meccano set that had been a present to my brother from Pa when he was three. I found out later in life that my mother had always wanted a meccano set but as she was a girl my Grandfather would never give her one. When my brother was born  Granddad was thrilled because finally he had someone he could fulfill his construction dreams with. This really rankled with my mother.

The place I liked best however, was a shop on top of the shops which lined the arcade. Crowded in this smoke-filled room were many men of my Grandfather’s age standing around a huge railway track. It went up hills, through tunnels, over bridges, and had many tracks and points to turn trains to a new line. There were stop and go lights, railway stations filled with tiny people, level crossings, cars on the roads, trees and bushes, houses and of course, locomotives with carriages chuffing around thanks to the hand-held remote controls. The men would have races and get very excited. Sometimes tempers flared but when they did my Grandfather decided it was time for us to go home. It was a world unlike any we had encountered before  and we were as good as gold whilst there so that Pa would stay longer.

One day, on our way to the train shop, we passed a dress shop and I saw a red suit that I fell in love with. It had a pleated skirt and a collared coat which did up with four buttons. It was the first time I desired anything in a fashion line and hankered after it long after it was out of sight. On our return home I described it to my mother and whined about it all evening. 

The next day my mother took me to the shop and I tried it on. Although the coat sleeves were too long I still wanted it badly. My Mum complied and bought not only the suit but also a matching red had with a huge pom-pom in its centre. I thought I was the ants pants. I donned it the next day when we travelled by train to town (Sydney) and of course I wore it to church when we returned to our small country town. It held its appeal until it sadly no longer fitted.

Another aid to memory is to visit the place that events happened. It is amazing the memories that come unbidden when you stand in a street of the past, look at a house, a shop or re-tread a path that you had trod many years earlier.