Dicky Beach in the late afternoon. I haven’t been down here for a very long time. As I approached the beach I saw the Dicky Beach surf club. I remember playing a gig there when I was in high school. I was never a surfie, and my connection with the skegs (slang for surfie when I was growing up) was music. I used to feel that I was “tolerated”, although not fully accepted, in that group because I was a good bass player, in fact at the time I think I was one of three bass players around my age in Caloundra. The drummer in my first band lived in the caravan park adjoining the beach.
I got drunk for the first time at this beach; polished off half a bottle of scotch. Needless to say I didn’t hold my drink real well. Abused someone, got beaten up for my efforts, and tried to pretend I was sober talking to my friend’s parents on the way home. Crashed and burned at another friends house until I was able to bluff my way back into my own house.
Just after I took this photo, the local surf club’s “little nippers” – young kids that want to learn what’s involved in being surf lifesaver, started their training. There was a cold wind blowing, but it didn’t stop the ten kids from jumping into the surf for their training. Madder than me!