I sent my brother a copy of Wild Boys the other day, and in return he sent me this photo, taken at Seven Mile Beach on the south coast of New South Wales:
In his message, my brother said that he thought the spirit of our father – who we always called ‘Pup’ – was smiling on the beach that day. When Pup died in 2008, his ashes were scattered into the ocean at Seven Mile Beach. I think he would have liked Wild Boys – he was a bit of a wild boy himself during the Second World War in Amsterdam, and he was never one to miss an opportunity. He was also one to always ‘call a spade a spade’, and I guess I’ve inherited that trait from him. Like many of us, my father struggled to be a good parent when his children were teenagers, and he made a few mistakes along the way. I’m sure he’d be the first to acknowledge that he was pretty hard at times, but he always did his best. Anyway, I felt very happy when I saw this photo because it just seemed so ‘right’ to see Wild Boys in the place where my father’s spirit remains.
Love it! I’m sure Pup is smiling down on you – proud as punch!