I've always loved to travel, but I'm not sure exactly when I picked up the 'bug'.   It probably began in earnest when I was about seven and Mum and Dad and I went on holidays to Melbourne in our FJ Holden (these are iconic 'Fifties' cars). We spent two days travelling there and over-nighted in lovely grand-looking old hotels along the way: the kind with huge staircases and a beautiful shiny, copper  gong on the ground floor to summon guests to breakfast. These days most of these buildings are'National-Trust' listed and if they're still functioning as hotels or even 'Backpacker lodges', prices have risen accordingly. For me, being in another state and seeing different scenery, towns and people was terribly adventurous and exciting .You'd have thought I'd been to London, instead of Victoria, the state-next-door.

In 1960, at age nine, Mum, Dad, my Nanna and I all took off on holidays again, this time to Sydney. This was partly a working holiday for my Dad, as the company for who he worked had their head office in Sydney. This time around was a camping trip. I was in 'seventh heaven' and yes, I loved camping back then. I thought our large hired tent was wonderful and at that age, it seemed almost the size of a circus tent. I remember my Dad practising pitching it on our lawn, and I'd spend a delightful afternoon playing in it. Once on the road, I'd look forward to every late afternoon when Mum and Dad would drive into  a camping ground to pitch our tent. Of course the adults did all the hard work, while I was free to trot off merrily to the playground; there was just about always a good one, sometimes with other children to talk to. My favourite piece of playground equipment was the swings. I'd swing as high as I could, within my own safety limits, and pretend I was flying, a free sensation I loved. Then I'd return to the nearby tent for tea and a sleep. How I enjoyed sleeping on a stretcher bed in that tent, along with Mum, Dad and my Nanna, even though she snored a bit.

These days, camping would have to take the form of 'glamping, which for those who are unfamiliar with this term, means camping done in style and comfort. Others do the hard work, while the guests just get to look good, smell nice and see interesting places.  Nowadays I've decided I do rather like my creature comforts and am unwilling to go without showers or to prepare a meal at the end of a long day's drive. However, I imagine a 'glamping' holiday would be quite expensive, because of course you have to pay for the pleasure of being catered to. 

One day whilst in Sydney, my Mum and Dad took me out to see the International Kingsford- Smith Airport at Botany. It was impressive to me back then,but you should see it now, it's massive. A Qantas Boeing 707 was sitting out on the tarmac, all sleek and silvery in the sun, waiting to take off for San Francisco in far-away America. The Boeing 707 was a state-of the-art long-haul aircraft at the time; I guess it was the 1960s version of an A380.  I was mesmerized and thought I had never seen anything so beautiful or magnificent.  I can remember being tangibly jealous of the passengers who were heading out across the tarmac to board this plane, so I decided then and there, that one day it would definitely be me.

Back at school in Adelaide, I'd become travel and aeroplane mad.  In Arithmetic classes, which I hated with a passion at school, I'd pull my atlas onto my knees under the desk and try to look at it furtively, mentally planning all the trips I was determined to do one day. San Francisco and London topped my list, and I'd day-dream of flying in a Boeing 707 just like the one I'd seen in Sydney.  Of course, I got found out on more than one occasion by my teacher and was in trouble, with some kind of imposition to be done after school, such as:  I will not gaze at my atlas in arithmetic class, fifty times?  It might have been, but I can't remember and I don't think I cared very much. I have since thought that seeing the streamlined 707 in Sydney that day sewed a tiny seed of inspiration which was to grow and develop into the early 1970s, when my dreams of flying as a career came to fruition.

As you can see, I caught 'the bug'early and eventually, my dreams became reality.

I loved to watch aircraft, whether in the air or on the ground. I can remember often pestering Mum and Dad to take a weekend drive to Adelaide's West Beach airport, so that I could walk out onto the windblown observation deck and gaze at aircraft, hear their noisy engines rev up, both props and jets at that time, and smell the Avgas, which I think must have been flowing in my veins even then. It's so sad that this experience isn't available today.

I was ecstatic, when, in 1964, I'd been staying on Kangaroo Island for a week of the May school holidays. I'd spent a pleasant week with my aunt, uncle and cousins. My Nanna was there too.  The icing on the cake for me, however, was the chance I had to fly back to Adelaide with Nanna, who had booked a flight in preference to the ferry, as she knew how much I'd love it. We flew in a Convair 440 with Airlines of South Australia. The Convairs were wonderful aircraft. They seated about 52 passengers and apparently even had a family compartment, although I wasn't aware of that then. Many of the older ASA crew who I flew with enjoyed relating their experiences on the Convair 440. Apparently the hostesses even used to fly up to Hayman Island with specially made tropical dresses for working in the cabin. 

Anyway, on the Kangaroo Island to Adelaide flight, I had a window seat and was offered some lollies, but I don't seem to remember either of the two hostesses doing a mad dash with a coffee service as I did later, in 1973. It was a smooth flight and we landed at sunset. I relived that flight for weeks afterwards and I think even then my head was firmly in the clouds. Perhaps that was the moment I thought: This is for me.

That moment came in the early 1970s and you can read about it in my next chapter: Fast Forward. I've wondered since whether there's some truth to 'visualisation,' as my dodgy under-the-desk travels eventually materialised and I've been fortunate enough to visit New Zealand, in a Qantas 707, no less; London and Europe multiple times, and the USA and Canada twice. Even after I'd left the airlines, I added Bali, Singapore, Penang and twice more to lovely New Zealand to my list. I have marvellous memories of going 'Here, There and Everywhere.'