I think I was probably about 10 at the time. We took a family holiday to Woolongong to visit family and friends of the family. Over the course of my childhood we probably took about two or three trips like this. My memory of these family holidays is quite vague, however there are some experiences that come to mind very vividly. Such as our visits to Gibsons. Gibson was a friend of my fathers, they grew up together getting into all kinds of mischief, as was devulged to us kids when the grown ups were drinking and laughing about their younger days. It was amazing to hear the outragous stories of violence, sex and drugs, the era my parents grew up in was iconic, they were rebels, hippies, they seen the side of the 70s I could only imagine based on what I have seen in movies and in footage of Led Zeppelin and ACDC concerts. My dad actually seen ACDC live at a bar for 2 bucks, insane. What a time to be alive, so much freedom, so little accountability. No body, no program was tracking your everyday movements and actions electronically.
Seeing my parents with their friends, seeing that glimpse of carelessness was a great experience, there was a genuineness to it I won’t see in the world again, but I do feel a piece it was passed onto us kids in a way. 
Gibson had two daughters and a wife. His wife, whos name escapes me, was a childhood friend of mums. The group were really tight, they shared a rich history and that was something us three brothers shared with Gibsons daughters, a rawness, a rebelliousness, and as a result the five of us kids had some wild adventures. 
I remember at night while the grown ups were partying, us kids snuck out into the streets in search of trouble. The girls were quite badly behaved and while it was shocking for us otherwise sheltered country kids, it was exhilarating. I’ll never forget Kylie hocking up a big loogey and spitting it into the change dispenser on the ticket machine at the train station so that innocent people would come along later to recieve their change with a handful of snot, disgusting yet hilarious. Then there was the fart-bombs, the girls were huge advocates of fart-bombing, in particular the fart bombing of the asian houses on the street. The girls were quite racist, although not in a hateful way, just childishly. So we all hid behind a tin fence down the road while one of the girls ran to the front door of the victims house, she would drop the bomb, stomp on it, knock on the door then run back down the street histerically and hide with us behind the fence. We would watch on in total ecstasy while the asian man would shout and rant very typically of an angry asian man, and I have to admit, there is something hilarious about that I just can’t deny.
It was valuable to me to get that exposure to mischief, especially for us being so isolated in our upbringing. It was probably just another day for the girls but for us three boys, those experiences were monumental.

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