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1964

By comparison with 1963, 1964 was a non-event for the World, unless you count the introduction of birthday-ballot for the conscription of 20 year old boys in Australia to allow us to commit troops to the escalating Vietnam conflict.  My birthdate did not come up so I missed out on a free trip to Vietnam, as did my brother, a couple of years later; unlike a number of our ex-classmates from high school. 

1963 was my last year of technical, if not legal, childhood.  1964 was my first year at University with all its new experiences and revelations. One excitement, that we superior beings at University looked down upon, but still became involved in, was the arrival of a band called The Beatles.  They caused a virtual riot among hormonal teenage girls, some of whom, we had to admit, were rather attractive.  Damn English mop-heads turning up and turning the heads of our women! 

My schoolboy fantasies remained in tact until the last day of the year, when on that balmy New Years Eve, on a blanket, on Sydney's Newport beach, they were made real by a young woman called Elizabeth, who shared many of Christine Keeler's alluring attributes. She taught me a lot, including that The Drifters hit song that year: Under The Boardwalk  should carry a sand alert:  'On a blanket with my baby' is not always 'the place to be'.

Thereafter I preferred The Stones' contemporary version of Little Red Rooster.

 

 

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