Flashback FridayJen always does a Flashback Friday post, and this week M has done one, too.
I normally just read these, because all my family photos and family memorabilia are back in Australia under lock and key.
But today, M was talking about the eighties and I remembered I had my wedding photos here!Here we are, in April 1983, in the backyard of Dave's old family bungalow in Dalkeith. I had a jawline and didn't wear glasses except to read. That little tacker peering over the edge of the picture is my son, Simon, who was six, and just a few days earlier he'd got himself ready for the big day by cutting his own hair!
Of all our friends, we were pretty nearly the first to get married at home, in a civil ceremony with a registrar.
Dave was working in rock and roll then, so a couple of his beefy roadies came by and rigged up some very flattering pink spotties in the jacaranda to shine on us so we looked gorgeous while we were taking our vows.
As soon as we were wed, the skies opened and it absolutely bucketed down, so everyone fled into the marquee. And as my mate Dace said, according to the Latvians (she's one), rain is good luck on your wedding day!
I was never one for the most extreme fashions of the eighties, though there are obviously a sturdy pair of shoulder pads in my lovely silk chiffon dress by George Gross. The hat was made for me by one of the lovely Kailis women, who owned the store where I bought the dress. Roxy in King Street. I had Mum's pearls on and my grandmother's old gold watch.
We had a fab day — we had a harp and flute playing during dinner, and , when the party started, a jazz band.
There was one major drawback to having the wedding at home, though — during the afternoon, my sports-mad in-laws, en masse, disappeared into the TV room to watch Robert De Castella run in the Rotterdam Marathon.
Which, like an awful lot of the marathons he ran, he lost.
I still have my dress — in fact, my hat is here — and Dave still has his suit. Though these days, Will has claimed the wedding suit jacket and waistcoat for himself:

Triple swans
Here's a pic of Matilda Bay on the Swan River, with Perth in the background. I even managed to persuade a couple of black swans to glide by!
I'm back in San Diego, after a long and wearying flight that included a five-hour stop in Brisbane very early in the morning. I think that was yesterday, but once again I arrived in Los Angeles before I'd left, and I'm still a bit dazed and a bit stiff after the long flight. Oh, my poor old knees!
It was very hard to leave Dad, and we had a bit of a weepy farewell on Tuesday night. He's still in hospital in Perth, but is doing really well and getting ready to move to a smaller rehabilitation hospital where he'll get the constant and intensive physiotherapy and occupational therapy he needs to build up his strength and get home.Though the circumstances were dreadful, we had some great times visiting Dad, and on several occasions he had lots of his family around him. Here's my gorgeous brother giving Dad a shave!
We were lucky the staff encouraged Dad to get outside as often as possible, and they'd hoist him into a wheelchair and wrap him up so we could get out for some air and sunshine. The duck pond on the edge of the hospital campus was a favourite spot, and Dad enjoyed a lot of icy-poles in this spot.Whenever it was too hot, we'd walk the long corridors inside the massive hospital, which has its own art gallery on the ground floor, complete with this cheerful Chagall/Picasso-style mural.We even managed to have a party for Dad's birthday, with a big cake, most of which ended up in the nurses' staffroom, much to their delight.
Dad's nurses and other medical staff have been out of this world. I got pics of only a couple of Dad's favourites. This is Cora ...... who is from Germany and a fire-fighter when she's not on duty at Charlie's (pet name for Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital). She's wonderful - caring and compassionate, and with that awe-inspiring combination of qualities that you see in the very best nurses, of knowledgeable efficiency, warmth and humour.
We also are big fans of Jeremy, Monica and of Hayley and Ben (below). Ben and Dad struck up a great friendship and Ben even visited Dad when he'd been moved to another ward on another floor.
This last pic is proof that Dad is finally and firmly on the long road to recovery...
I always maintain that physiotherapists are miracle workers, and Ben and his student, Saskia are exactly that. They kindly invited Mum and me to watch this session, when, with the aid of the complicated-looking hoist, they managed to get Dad to his feet for the first time in more than three weeks. There were lots of cheers as he stood there, pretty shakily, and viewed the world from this position, knowing he was truly on the mend.

:: And very big and heartfelt thanks to all my friends in Perth, and in blogland, who looked after me and my Mum, cheered me up, fed me, talked to me, distracted me and kept me going with phone calls, text messages, emails and blog comments. Thanks. You are absolutely the best.
More on all that later!