No more genuine a person. With our thanks to Stockland.
Some of the kids had many miles to walk to school. It was a special thing to have a bike, not many kids had one in those days. I remember my first one, it was blue. I rode it everywhere. There were lots of skinned knees and elbows.
Our home had a veranda all the way around it. I think my father built it, from what I heard. It was on a slope of about 45 degrees and we had about two acres. I think dad owned more land than that originally but he swapped two and a half acres for a radio!
There was a beautiful view out of my bedroom window. From the foot of the Blue Mountains, I could see, on a fine day, the skyscrapers of the city. It was quite isolating, but I made the most of it, spending lots of time outside with my dog and discovering nature. I used to wake up to the sound of bell birds every morning. When the paddocks were covered in grass I used to go running through them and then flop down on my back. You’d have a wall of grass all around you and just stare at the clouds. It was wonderful. I always appreciated it.
My childhood was the smell of rain after an extremely hot day, the smell of the bush, the smell of fresh water trickling through earth. If you’ve never smelt that you are missing out.
When I was older I moved to Sydney but went to visit my parents every second weekend. I got there on my motor bike. I first decided to get a bike because my father didn’t drive very much; I’d catch the train, then he’d collect me from the station. To get in the car with my father once he was that age was to take your life and nerves into your own hand. He’d sit right back and only just be able to see over the steering wheel. He’d be wearing glasses he hadn’t cleaned for months (to say the least) and they were hazed right over. He wouldn’t stay on the road but would start to veer. So I knew I needed transport as soon as I could!