1978 - Not-so-sweet 16

My father still reminds me about this birthday, which remains one of my clearest and best memories of my high school years in Canberra. He was solo parenting at the time, as my mother had taken one of her periodic trips to India to visit her parents. We'd had a hoot of a time, eating out regularly and going to the movies. I particularly remember seeing Pretty Baby together, no doubt for the New Orleans backdrop he's never seen in real life.



Life was pretty good for me at the time. My mother and I have never been close, so her absence was felt more for the lack of constant bickering rather than a sense of loss. I had a serious boyfriend - Andrew - and the lead in the school play, "Bye Bye Birdie". My closest girl friends all did Drama with me, and so I had the idea of a party that would be a complete improvisation.*



*Cheesy, I know, but I was 16, fer gossake!



I only have a vague recollection about the premise for the storyline, but it involved a death. We all dressed in black and had been summoned for the reading of the will. Of course we were all related to the imaginary deceased man - some as his children, others his wives, lovers, perhaps employees? I still have the photos of Joy in a black hat and sunglasses, and Bernie with a black lace veil. And I remember when someone arrived (was it Cheryl or Cathy?) it happened to coincide with the sound of a chopper overhead - so they played it seamlessly as if it had just dropped them off.



It was that year that saw the blossoming of my interest in the kitchen, so of course I catered the entire affair. My mother was buying a series of magazines from Good Housekeeping (which I have to this day) that offered step-by-step instructions for various gourmet goodies. I can't recall the appetizers (although it would probably have included some dip and cheeses) but I'm proud to recall I produced Chicken Kiev with Pommes Anna and finished with Chocolate Bavarois.



And for the entire affair we were waited on by my father. In his black trousers, stiff-fronted shirt and bow tie. He was addressed as "James" for the whole evening (his middle name) and boy did we keep him busy! I don't have a single picture of him that night, which saddens me. I know this memory will be one I'll keep with me when he dies. The last time he mentioned it to me, he said it occurred to him the other girls' parents might not surrender them so easily to such an affair in these days of perverts-behind-every-bush. But it was the best of times - and no doubt one of the most fun and inventive parties I've ever had.