Flashback Friday.

This week, My Dad.

This is Dad, with his mates, loitering in the streets of Warrnambool, Victoria, some time in the 60's. (he's the one on the right)

From what i hear, Dad was exactly what he looks in this photo; a country boy, one of the lads, who got up to all measure of trouble whilst hooning around on the weekends. I know he was at least personally responsible for setting half the beach on fire, and tying his best friend, drunk and naked, to a lampost in the centre of town. (and check out those cars!)

My parents met (or got together) at the Palais, the local dance hall. A quick survey of the other kids at my high school told me that about 80% of people's parents met at the Palais. Kind of like a random parent lottery, eh?

Dad was raised by a horse racing family. Apart from tending horses, he has also been a butcher, a welder, and a dairy farmer.
Endlessly practical, he can build anything. We once took a tour of all my parents' old houses, and most of them were falling down, except for the chook houses, which Dad built. When he and my mother were planning to buy a camper trailer, he told the salesman all the reasons why the trailer wasn't built well enough, and they offered him a job.

He showed his love for us by working like a dog, alongside my Mum, on a farm that yielded not much other than shit and pain and strife, for close to 30 years. But since he's retired, he's gone all soft, especially since my sister had her kids. It's one of the most fantastic things to see a big, gruff, hard as nails farming man rolling around on the floor with his grandkids.

He and my Mum are still together. I am lucky to have them as my parents.

You can see other Flashbacks at Flashback Friday