Right now I am going through my dad’s photos, writing, and notes. The time is right. Towards the end of his life, with the help of wonderful carers, dad put together photocopies of his favourite photos of my sister Rob, my mother Jill, and me.
I do not recall whether this was my ‘favourite’ toy. But from what he says in his caption, the popularity of this toy spread well beyond me. Clearly it was a neighbourhood favourite.
Perhaps my life-long love of horses stems from this toy. When I was five we moved, and the neighbourhood kids used to set up horse jumps in our garden, pretending to be horses cantering across the lawn.
For some reason, the neighbourhood kids congregated at our place, dispersing only when mum rang the old brass bell that signalled dinner time. Perhaps it was because our garden had trees to climb, space to run around, and a cubby house that was also made by Dad and some mates.
As an artist, I value handmade things, so I this appreciate the little horse, even though it longer exists. It speaks of care, love, and pride in workmanship, as all handmade things do. What a wonderful gift for a little girl.
Aside : ) I chuckled at my husband’s sense of humour. He sent this scanned page of the rocking horse in an email with the heading “The Lone Ranger.” (Actually in some ways it’s an apt moniker.)