Ballina Boy

The water was as smooth as glass, and with a hint of diesel oil on the surface I could see all the colours of the rainbow … we were not there just to catch fish but to dream.
This is the story of my childhood in Ballina in the 1950s. Packed with adventure on the bustling Richmond River; filled with fascination for my father’s medical practice, despite its intrusion into our family life; and enriched by his enquiring, scholarly mind, these years offered a way of life that I loved, and that exists no longer.