I love my son’s tattoos. The latest addition is the word 'imagine' on his right upper arm.
Despite my stage fright, a dodgy monitor and a handful of fluffed lines, my little trio are sharp enough and together enough to sound OK.
In Hamlet, Polonius says to his son: Neither a borrower nor a lender be/For loan oft loses both itself and friend
One of my strongest memories is the pure joy we got out of making each other laugh. Belly laughs that happened while you hung upside down on the monkey bars were even more hilarious.
“The White Album,” my son said one night. “Fair bit of filler on it. But I’m keen to learn more about George Harrison.”
Chris Mangan Maternity ward, Melbourne 1964 It would be hard not to think of The Beatles upon hearing the perfect chord that introduces the song A Hard Day’s Night, the perfect chord to symbolise a worldwide phenomenon, and the perfect fanfare for a newborn life in Melbourne 1964.
Bea Jones Wellington, New Zealand. 1963 In my first tentative relationship with a fellow student I felt I had found my soul mate. where the rampant hormones were matched by our mutual passion for art; many Sunday afternoons spent wandering the back streets of Wellington, sketch book in hand.
Stephen Andrew Yarra River, Warrandyte, 8 December 1980 Word comes from a car radio in the riverside car park. Calling out, surreal, to nobody, “John Lennon has been shot”.
Tony Wright (National affairs editor of The Age) School cadet camp, Australia 1967 Epiphany, complete with a solo trumpet fanfare, emerged from my transistor radio as I lolled beneath a big old gumtree in a forest, munching Fantales and wearing jungle greens.
Maria Majsa Pakuranga, Auckland 1967 There is a radio in a brown leather case on the bench. My mother turns it on during the day when my father has left for work and the house feels different.