In Memory Of June Tate A Life At Sea - Sailing Aboard World Class Ships The Queen Mary and the Queen Elizabeth I used to hate PE lessons at school, being more mature for my age than most of the other girls and much taller, I felt very self conscious and was no good at sports and hated physical activity. I was naturally slim and could not see why any additional exercise was necessary. I was brought up in a village in Hertfordshire in the 1950s and 60s. I lived with my mother and sister, my dad having taken off to find some excitement when I was quite small. My sister Sally was about a year older than me. Sally tended to look down on me, both because of her age and the fact that I was a mere male! Mum, while she was very kind, was very Victorian in her outlook. She tended to regard any discussing of sexual matters, almost anything below the belt, as rather dirty, and never tried to give me even the slightest hint about puberty or the ‘Facts of Life’! Some time later I sneaked into the washroom and carefully rinsed out my underpants with plenty of hot water. It would now be easier to fib and say they got muddy. The consequences of returning home with cum-filled underpants was beyond my imagination! One contributor said the word is "a cross between the words cungie (a sponge type sea creature) and speedos or swimmers". Do with that what you will.

I remember staring at the fire for hours, comforted by the dull glow from it being banked up at night. I suppose I must have read books by the score and listened to the radio but it is the fire and the persistent cough that seemed to dominate that time. A major piece of history occurred while I was ill. I was lying in bed in the kitchen-cum-sitting room, listening to the radio, when the broadcast was interrupted by the news that King George VI had died that morning. With little better to do, I followed the royal events as they unfolded, feeling very much a part of it. On 16th October 2014, I had the pleasure of interviewing one of my all time favourite singer songwriters, poet and author Ralph McTell. It was one of the ironies of winning the Second World War that, from about 1948 onwards, Britain was actually worse off than the Continental countries it had defeated or liberated. so it’s official. I guess the Queenslanders were wearing far more sensible, bike short style scungies? Runners, QLD.

Chunders, VIC.

Sally and I lived in a sort of truce most of the time, with a battle likely to break out at any minute, while our mum tried to keep the peace. However, Sally was a clever girl and eventually went to college to get a degree. She also had inherited Mum’s fastidious attitude to hygiene, washed her hands frequently, and she bathed far more frequently than was necessary in my view! She also changed her clothes frequently, especially her underwear. This was to my advantage as she put her discarded underclothing in the laundry basket in the bathroom. I had no sporting ability or skill and found the teachers to be discouraging, so I never really engaged with lessons throughout school. Outdoor activities took place in all weathers, and you usually ended up sweaty, muddy or wet, and sometimes all three. There never seemed to be enough time to change or shower afterwards and the showers were really grotty anyway. I could not for the life of me find out what you guys call these. If you played netball in Tasmania or the Northern Territory, let us know in the comments section! Bloomers, WA. Outside of school, I briefly dabbled in dancing, karate, running and took swimming lessons up until the age of 12. In fact, I found this photo of me and my Dad taking part a local fun run in 1993. I believe it was 4 miles, but it felt like a marathon at the time!

Farnworth Grammar School broadened my education in more ways than one. Being very unworldly, never having had any close friends, I knew almost nothing about life. Mum had, almost hesitatingly, told me about menstruation, because she hadn’t wanted me to find out the hard way as she’d done. She was nearly 17 before she’d had her first period and thought she had injured herself in some way. The girls at school talked about all sorts of things besides periods. Rather than risk their ridicule of my ignorance, I kept my mouth shut and gradually, by listening, I was able to piece together nuggets of information, the rest I filled in by guesswork. It’s a wonder I haven’t ended up with all sorts of hang-ups because, listening to their stories, I was horrified. I remember thinking, with some embarrassment, that my parents couldn’t possibly do things like that, not any more, for surely they were too old. A crammed car park in the height of summer. We spot an area of scrub at the far end, pull in and park next to a van. There weren’t any explanations online for this, but this Queensland-based dancewear store has a whole section called "bummers" featuring dance shorts,It all began when I started at senior school. There was so much sport and hobbies in my life that I had not really bothered very much about girls, except for the usual kissing and snogging, and they had remained a total mystery to me.

It’s been a while since I posted a memoir-based blog (apart from last month’s ‘Stranded in New York City’), the last one being ‘Four Schools in One Term.’

Bloomers, WA.

My sister made good her promise to totally ignore me in the future, while my mother reminded me of my sins on a daily basis for many months. In the end, completely fed up with the nagging and bad atmosphere, I went into an Army recruiting office and signed on with the Boys’ Service. My mother readily signed the approval forms, saying that it would make a man out of me! Since reading Anna Kessel’s ‘ Eat Sweat Play‘ I’ve been thinking about my relationship to sport and exercise throughout my life. It seems a fairly common experience to have detested PE lessons at school.During my secondary school years, I wasdefinitely more arty and musical than sporty. Whilst I never actually bunked lessons, I would put in as little effort as possible and avoid getting sweaty or muddy. Suddenly I almost jumped out of my skin and my heart stopped as the bedroom door opened, and there in the doorway staring at me, was my mother, with my sister Sally peering right behind her! This has to be the weirdest term for sports underwear simply from a "where the hell did this come from" perspective. So I investigated. According to the Macquarie Dictionary, scungies is slang for men’s swimming briefs - yep, budgie smugglers.