EmBowdend,no OverBowdend Oh what the hell

Bravo! Hugh Encore, I shall here add what little I can to your musings on this period.
I obviously have no memories of Stanley St though I was aware that Mum and Dad had lived there so was interested when in the early seventies I visited an flat there that Harley’s (that’s Harley Gale; dilettante, to you not in the know) father had given him as a morsel of his potential inheritance. I think I did my first kitchen renovation there, so bad that it became a repressed memory which only now returns. Anyway your description of our habitation there raises in my mind a question of space, from memory the majority of flats were one bedroom or bachelor with two bedroom vary scarce. I do hope as a new born I didn’t disturb too many peoples sleeping patterns in this crowed house.
I have limited memories of 73 Bowden St, mostly hazy ones of waiting for Nanette and you to return from school, though I have a much clearer one of trying to climb a broom leant against the outhouse wall and in the subsequent fall putting a tooth through my lip for which I received my first stitches by a quite local doctor on the other side of Victoria Road. I have a much clearer memory during the Ryde time of being taken to the same, Hippocratic Oath signed in blood doctor, to solve the so called problem of my bed wetting. After mum in my presence outlined the problem he dismissed mum and in strict confidence, man to man, what we say will not pass beyond these walls stance, provocatively suggested that I felt deprived of attention. I was not about to argue with this figure of authority and agreed that “yes sir” that was the problem and I ask you, if when asked the same question, who to this day would not agree that they are deprived of attention? Now I was dismissed to play with the blocks in the waiting room while mum was invited in to get the prescription. You can imagine my dismay as whilst crossing back across Victoria Rd, having enjoyed my personal time with the blocks, my mum asked “so you wet the bed because you don’t get enough attention eh?” Is it any wonder that from that day I never again trusted doctors, and indeed began to loose confidence in many other figures of authority?
I have no recollection of the Jimmy Gordon prank though do have a foggy memory of his not being our friend so thanks for the insight. I recall Uncle Frank and Aunty Mary and am beholding to Uncle Frank for all the magnets. The motorcycle folk have also found a part of my memory though none of the others you mention, I’m dying to hear more of Mrs. Winterbottom Oh c’mon Hugh.
Nona and Grandpas place was gorgeous and it was here that I got my first inkling that there were potential joys in adulthood such as sweet tea scones and a log, no probably coal fire. Also here came a strange fellow who brought with him cattle dogs and chaff bags instead of luggage and seemed to live in the foundations rather than inside. He was Uncle Willy and I was encouraged to keep my distance least he or his dogs might bite. Needless to say timid soul that I was, I did and have never ceased to regret the fact that I did not get to know this possibly kindred spirit.
I was always awed by Grandpa’s might and dimly recollect thrilling to his too seldom hugs, Nona hugged often and it was always appreciated as were fondly remembered outings with her to the city where we were all very dressed up and dined out at Coles Cafeteria and caught a newsreel.
The only Bowden St folk that I remember that you haven’t yet mentioned are Graeme Hood (I think) who lived on the other side of the street close to 73 who I went to school with me (I think) Our only mischief that I can remember was going to the corner phone booth and calling Information to ask esoteric questions like what was the capital of Belgium or what was on at the flicks at Eastwood. Pretty lame Ehh Quite surprisingly these operators (not recorded messages) were quite prepared to humor us with genuine and mostly accurate answers, quite obviously they were not as stressed as those people from Mumbai who perform similar functions today
Further along Bowden St on our odd side past the gully there was another possibly ex school mate who was a nerd, had a crystal set, we went tadpole collecting and I at least caused a minor fureoe for being so late home from school. He probably went on to be some famous noble scientist or well compensated public servant if only I could remember his name.
Keep it coming Hugh, my memories can only start getting better.