Fancy How Time Flies - my little Girl turns 50 today!

My gorgeous Girl

It was back in the dark dim ages of scant television (live concert transmission on a tiny 12 inch black&white screen) on a bleak December day - Dec the 14th to be exact - that in mid-evening the girl's mother decided, after the regulation gestation period, to go into labour.
In those days telephones were something only politicians and rich people had. I hot-footed it down to the nearest phone box and rang the hospital. Being twenty years old at the time I didn't have much of clue what was going on, but the duty nurse 'grilled' me sufficiently to instruct me to bring the girl into the hospital.
It was a miserable dark, cold and wet evening. Being young and fearless I walked the girl to the hospital, almost 1 kilometre away. They checked her out and said: "Yep, she's in labour. Go home and ring about seven in the morning to see if anything has happened."
None of this present day 'nonesense' of husbands staying with their wives to go through all the labour pain and gore that follows. One just went home, had a stiff drink, set the alarm and got up the next morning to make the trek to the phone box to find out if there had been any positive results of the 'arduous!' fertilising task.

Telegram to Tante Gisela about the birth

Low and behold there had been! I was informed that a baby girl had been born at Frederiksberg Hospital at 02.25 AM, weighing 3,250 grams and being 52 cm long. Not a bad effort for an overnight journey on a sleeper train.

15 Dec 1963 Frederiksberg Hospital

I was told I could visit after 8 AM to see mother and child. All very well, mother was doing fine and baby was in the nursery section. I was only allowed to view her through the glass window - no touching or contact, just in case I'd pass on some germs or other horrible diseases. - we only bathed or showered once a week in them days. When I saw 'My Little Girl' for the first time I got a tremendous shock!
She had this large purple lump on her head. I raced in to see her mum and enquire as to what had happened. I was informed that Dorit was an ostropoulus little witch that would not eject from the womb! Thus they had to use a suction cup, just like what the plumber uses to clear the drains, to extract her! 

Let's back-track a bit to reflect on how the 'fertilising' happened. Her mum and I, then my girlfriend, were living in Bad Godesberg near Bonn (then the capital of West Germany), at the beginning of 1963. We decided to go back to her mum's birthplace for various reasons. We booked a 'Wagon Lits' compartment for the overnight journey from Cologne to Copenhagen. Being the fancy-free 60's we got a double berth compartment (bunk berth) - goodness knows why. Being young and amorous we only needed one berth. And that is where Dorit was conceived! Must have been the gaps in the rail lines that added that extra BUMP to make it all happen.
After we got to Denmark my then girlfriend informed me, a couple of months later, that she was pregnant. So, what does an honourable young gentleman do? He told her 'we're getting married'!

Omi teaching Dorit manners

Dorit's Godparents - Fritz & Birgit

My mum was not amused about the whole caper and stopped communicating with me for a while, hence the Telegram to my sister - Tante Gisela. However, once the little critter with head damage was born my mother, know to everybody in our families as Omi, relented and travelled to Copenhagen for the Christening. What a blessing that was! Omi took one look at our living arrangements, a two-room flat with a small kitchen and no bathroom shared with my in-laws, and declared: "you can't subject the baby to that!" Being a foreigner I was not entitled to a state housing flat or house. Omi advanced us some monies to put a deposit on an 'own your own' apartment. It was on the third floor, no lift, had a large living room, small bedroom, tiny baby's room and small kitchen. Still no bathroom BUT at least an inside toilet - very smick. That is where we resided and Dorit spent her early formative years till she turned four. By then I had decided that Denmark was not for us (i.e. me) and made applications and arrangements to migrate to Australia. 

In the meantime life proceeded and Dorit grew up - to the extend that she became a very early long-distance communicator, which most likely explains her 'addiction' to the I-Phone these days. Look at her here - making calls to her .... who knows what!
She also developed a very early taste for adventure and foreign lands, having travelled from the time she was barely a year old, at that stage only to Germany and Sweden. A bit later she expanded her horizons and ventured to Italy before coming to Australia.

Tillykke med Foedselsdagen min lille pige