Growing up in a three-bedroom house on Larkins Crescent right on the doorstep of
the Power Station the air would often be filled with the sounds of Slim Dusty as my
father sat shirtless with his old Maton guitar while mum busily repainted the bedroom
walls full of expectation and hope. In the lounge hung Frederick McCubbin’s The
At home and at school I’d hear grand stories of these courageous, larger than life
men who pushed through major adversities, risking everything to create a better life
for their families.
It was incomprehensible the daily challenges that rose to meet these explorers on
their voyage to greatness.
We lived in an inhospitable land and it needed to be subdued.