Blurry Memories of Tents (Sepia Saturday 569)

The Sepia prompt for this Saturday is a man in a raincoat standing outside a tent. I can't recall any camping photos from my ancestors' photo albums, and myself I never liked camping. On holiday trips in my childhood with my parents we used to stay at b&b hostels or cabins - no luxury, but at least a proper roof over our heads in the night.

So - how do I even know that I don't like camping?

For a year or two when I was 10-11 years old, I was a junior girl scout (brownie). As long as we kept indoors in a basement room tying knots on a rope and playing games, I don't think I objected too much. But the summer before I turned eleven, I was sent to a Big Summer Camp for a week. I hated it. Everything from carrying my dad's backpack (much too big and heavy for me), to the uniform (blouse, belt, skirt - all a bit too tight for comfort), to sleeping in a tent, to cooking outdoors, to the primitive outhouse toilets, to being around lots of people all the time. And at least one night it rained enough for everything in our tent to get soaked.

My memories of details are as blurry now as the photographs I took with an old camera of my dad's. 55 years later I don't think I have to worry much about anyone recognizing themselves (or anyone else) in these photos, should they ever happen to accidentally come across this posts.

Greeting the Flag in the morning

Lots and lots of similar tents...

 

My own version of a tent (drawn in my album)

For some obscure reason they had named it the Eskimo camp.
Well, I do still kind of shiver just thinking about it...!

Campfire at night. If this was a recent photo my impression would be everyone was staring at their mobile phones and tablets. But as there weren't any such things back in 1966, it must have been something else! (Perhaps the Scout Song Book?)

I never went on another scout camp or overnight hike; and can only remember two more occasions, up in my early twenties, when I tried spending the night in a tent at all. Both times, it was just for one night. The second time, it was meant to be two nights, but I got bad reactions to my grass allergy. There was a gang of us and somehow we managed to rearrange things and I went back home early with some other people than those I came with. I've never made another attempt at camping since!

 Sepia Saturday 569

 

Slow Progress

Horse Chestnut tree

Spring is making slow progress here this year. While some years, everything seems to explode all at once, it's been quite the opposite this year, with very subtle increase of greenery from one day to the next - or indeed, from one week to the next.

Myself I still seem to be in "slow" mode, too, recuperating from the vaccination last weekend. While the worst side-effects wore off in a day or two, I've still had some lingering "harder-to-pin-down" kind of (perhaps) symptoms, like a bit of headache and general tiredness; plus the injection spot staying red and sore and itchy longer than I recall from any ordinary flu-shot. (The latter reaction seems finally to be almost gone today, though.) It's not that I've had any real difficulties coping with things I've needed to do. It's just like everything has seemed to require a bit more effort and "self-peptalk" than usual. 

 

The Vaccination

Last week they opened up vaccine-booking for age group 65+ here.  I checked out the website the same morning I read about it in the local paper, but then there were no time slots open. I tried again in the evening, and then there were lots of times for Sunday afternoon, and I managed (2nd attempt) to book one. The next day I mentioned it on Facebook, and then a friend pm:d me and offered to drive me = transport solved.

So my friend picked me up on Sunday afternoon and drove me across town to the vaccination centre set up there. We arrived 25 min early, but there was no queue and I was allowed in straight away. Got my shot (the Astra vaccine), sat for 15 minutes in a waiting room afterwards (that's to make sure no one gets a severe allergic reaction) - and was out again before the original time I had booked. My friend was waiting in the car and drove me back home. The whole adventure took less than an hour. (Well - that part of it, anyway.)

On Monday, I did go through some side-effects, but I was prepared for that to happen. It started around 12 hrs after the injection (i.e. in the middle of the night) and involved slightly raised body temperature (with some initial shivering), tiredness, headache, and general muscle ache. As I have some chronic pain problems, primarily in my right shoulder/arm, I had asked to be given the shot in my left arm. Even so (but not really surprising to me), it was still primarily my right side that reacted with increased pain. (A rather odd feeling, hard to describe: knowing that there is a spot on your left arm that is 'rightfully' a bit sore, but it's still the right arm acting 'drama queen'...)

So I had a quiet Monday, just resting with audio books, radio and TV. (Heated up some soup for lunch.)  Towards evening I was feeling better, and on Tuesday morning my temperature was back to normal. I'm still kind of feeling a little bit 'off' in a hard-to-define way, though. The injection spot is also still red and sensitive to touch, so I guess my body is still working away at trying to figure out what on earth hit it, and how to best deal with it. 

 

I hope it will be done with the processing soon and then continue to quietly build up a good defense for possible future attacks; as my next shot won't be until the beginning of August. (Vaccine deliveries were delayed earlier in the spring, and it seems the current priority is to give as many people as possible their first shot.)

***

Photos: Playing in Picasa with photos from the recent "We Knit For Peace" exhibition.

No.3 is from the waiting room after I got the jab, though. That was a bit surreal, too. People came quietly one by one and took a seat, and every now and then someone quietly rose and left, as their 15 minutes had passed. No one spoke; it was like a ritual of a short silent meditation...)

Sepia Saturday 567 - Men On Horseback (1925)

There are very few photos of horses in my old photo albums, and even fewer of people riding one. The only one that comes to mind is this photo from my grandfather's album, with the subtitle "On horseback. Kviberg 1925". Kviberg was a Swedish artillery regiment in Gothenburg. Obviously this is where my grandfather did his mandatory military service. In 1925, he was 21 years old - the common age for conscription back then.

Who among the men on horseback is my grandfather? I know he must be one of the four in the middle, because there is another photo of him in that kind of uniform (but no horse):

My grandfather to the right,
a friend of his to the left.

I'm hesitating whether my grandfather is the 2nd or the 4th man wearing that kind of hat in the "horseback" photo. Hard to tell as one face is rather blurry, and the other has his hat pulled down over his eyes. Both seem to have the kind of oblong face that my grandfather had.

Whether they had any choice as to what kind of military service to do, I don't know. But I know that my grandfather's grandfather (with whom my grandfather grew up) used to be an artillery soldier. Back in his day, military service was organized a bit differently, though.

 

 Sepia Saturday 567

Sepia Saturday 566: Piano

The prompt picture for Sepia Saturday 566 is of a "living room with grand piano". This made me go looking for pianos in my own childhood photo albums. I can't recall any "grand" pianos from back then, but I know there was a piano in my maternal grandparents' living room. It was an upright black one, and I remember it well, but I don't seem to have any photo of it. In my other grandparents' living room (which was smaller), there was a small pump organ (harmonium). I have no photo evidence of that either - the images of it are only stored in my brain. And who used to play it (besides me, at a very young age) I don't know. I don't think I ever saw my grandmother or grandfather use it, and I can't recall ever seeing my father play either.

The only piano photo I find in my album from my early years is from my father's uncle's living room, Christmas 1957. This is me, 16 months old, playing a duet together with my mum, and then a solo performance. (Be thankful that there is no sound!)

When I was around ten, we moved to a bigger house, and then my parents also bought their own piano. Mum did play a bit (as can be seen above). I took (was forced to take) piano lessons for a while (grade 4-6), but I never had any natural talent for it. My brother did inherit the musical gene, though. Below is a blurry photo of him at the family piano, about six years old at the time. Unlike me, he kept on playing; switching to electronic keyboards up in his teens, and combining that with various intricate computer programs to produce all kinds of sounds. (Put me at a piano now, and I'm no better than at age 1½ ...)

 Sepia Saturday 566