At ANZAC reunions and marches I’ve heard my late father referred to as a hero. I’m not much for the Aussie hero moniker, neither was Dad.
I went with my mum, Bonnie, to Chaddy (the shopping centre) to the record shop, trying to look cool with Amco jeans, granny shirt and hair as long as it would stretch and browsed ... seriously.
We play a lot of good music, drink far too much, eat fabulously. Most of all we keep stoking the fire to keep the old house warm and our friendship ablaze. A good red helps with that.
The next time Razor’s Edge played he loudly sang the line about getting a letter from Davey. I usually shut up for a few minutes. It was that line that cut me up a bit, it still does.