In November of 1963 we left Williams Lake and moved to the southwest corner of the province, and the little seaside town of White Rock. Florrie and Frank, and their daughter Jean, who my mother had been friendly with on the ship coming over from England, had moved there. Florrie kept in touch with my mother, and must have convinced her that she would feel more at home in White Rock. Our belongings were all packed into the old Pontiac, and away we went. We travelled down the Fraser Canyon, and the road was narrow and perched on the edge of the cliff in places. I can't imagine what my parents must have thought of it. It was nothing like the highway it is now.
We rented a little house, and Frank made a table and some stools for us, and somehow we rounded up enough furniture to get by. My dad had trouble finding work at first, and things were a bit difficult. I remember going to the beach and collecting driftwood to burn in the fireplace.
Spring of 1964, stood on the boat dock at the end of the White Rock pier
I think there was an event at school that I decorated the doll's pram for.
Stanley Park and Lumberman's Arch, in Vancouver
Sorry for the lack of posts recently. We have been in Oliver for the last nine days, and are heading home on Friday. Right now, since I don't have a laptop (yet), and only have an ancient flip phone, my internet access is limited to an hour a day, five days a week, at the public library. Kind of a nice change in a way, but awkward for doing posts, and I'm never organized enough to get posts written ahead of time. This post I did manage to upload the photos ahead of time at least, so finally managed to add some text to it today.
I did get five books read though!