The Height of Luxury

Do you remember when you were small coveting certain items? Holding them in high regard? I used to think if you had a swimming pool you were rich, the luckiest kids got trampolines and that the fanciest of ladies had coloured cotton balls.

Yup coloured cotton balls. When we lived in Adelaide my brothers teacher, Mrs Aston, tucked us under her wing as we lived far away from family. I remember she always smelt of Tweed talcolm powder, had jars of small soap; shaped like sea shells and flowers, those cotton balls that I Ioved and always made us self-saucing pudding; at lunch! A hot dessert! What a luxury!

I can't see banana trees or a large macrame hammock without thinking of her garden, or look at my tiny phone that can access the world and think back to her massive computer that had a special desk and took up most of her sunroom, Mrs. Aston would always let us play on it; she was good like that.

At the end of lunch just as we were all saying our good byes she would press a tiny soap into my hand for me to take home. I would smuggle it into my bedroom and hide it in my top drawer away from my little sisters curious hands.

Isn't it amazing how smells can take us back in time? A soap, a roast, a certain washing powder. My Mum always uses Oil of Olay and even today a quick whiff whisks me 1350km away to my parents farm.

Now as a grown up I still love fancy soaps, I have one or two in my top drawer. I have been looking for the fairy-floss cotton balls but haven't had much luck. I have a pool but I'm not rich and I don't want a trampoline and can finally appreciate why my parents thought they were dangerous.

What did you love as a kid? Did you have a trampoline?