There are winners, and there are losers. Missing out twice in the past two years to enter the Battle of the Bands was killing us all inside. The first year was due to the Mark and Lucy incident. The second year, I ended up with influenza, couldn’t sing, and barely get out of bed. It was the start 1986, the year of the tiger in the Chinese year. Our year. Summer holidays passed. We went to visit Dad at the farm, then to Uncle Charlie down in Millicent and spent some time down at Beachport. Fishing, swimming, jumping of the jetty, riding bikes in the sand dunes at Southend, playing with Rusty, hanging out, and camping sitting around the fire playing music with Dad were the best. Uncle Charlie would tell all these weird and wonderful stories about them growing up as kids. His humour was left
