I was brought up mostly in the Catholic school system, although I completed high school in the public school system. The Brothers at Servite College were mostly American, taught us vital things like the three letter abbreviations of the states of the USA along with Babe Ruth’s statistics! I was academically smart, and I learnt to play tennis (on grass courts) and field hockey reasonably well. I also sang in the choir, often getting solo parts, and learnt how to march and play a snare drum for special occasions such as ANZAC day. I also experienced the change from imperial measurement to metric. The imperial would come in handy when I moved to the US.

By the time I got to high (public) school, I was less interested academically and coasted through to graduation not really applying myself or even understanding the need to, after all there were more interesting pursuits for a young man like me. I achieved my mum’s predictions that going to a public school would morally bankrupt me.

It also shaped me for who I would become. I prided myself on my ability to have a foot in all camps, it didn’t matter to me whether you were a surfie or skeg, a bodgie, a sharpie, a rock, a goth etc. It didn’t matter what ethnic blood you bled, I got along with all. I learnt to parle. The son of an immigrant, a wog, I wore it with pride.

In 1976 I left school behind armed with an equal degree of excitement for the next phase, and a healthy dose of guilt and shame from my early career in Catholic school.

I sat on the beach at Scarborough*: What do I do now?

*Every time that I go back to Perth, and I have been doing that annually now since 2005, I make sure I don’t leave without diving into the surf at Scarborough Beach in the Indian Ocean.