Gareth Larsen

Story

1986 was a big year for me. I turned five. On my birthday I learnt to break dance winning first prize. That night, having reached the pinnacle of achievement, I hung up my medals to pursue other goals. Soon after, I saved my friend Aidie from her manic dog, and another friend James from a falling wardrobe. I remember my sister rolled chocolate into the shape of dog\’s poo and left it under the computer much to the hysteria of all mum\’s childminding kids. Later I was caught drinking cordial straight from the bottle and was dobbed in by my sister, a story she still fondly retells today. I turned on the outside tap and a spider came out – today I inspect water glasses just in case. And then there was the America\’s Cup.

Living in Peterborough, England, my family would gather around our first colour television and watch the sailing boats in Fremantle, my parents\’ eyes gleaming like the sparkle of the water. Australia was the star, and images like Sydney Opera house were as grand and inspiring then as they are today Ð nothing had seemed so invigorating since Anneka Rice last stepped in the helicopter. To me it was just another TV show, but to my parents it was a glimpse into another world, one that my dad\’s sister Sonia Jones had emigrated to under the 10 Pound Pom scheme a decade earlier, and my dad had visited some years earlier returning for my mother\’s hand, and then life had taken over. Now with a family of four, Australia had once more inspired and we had one-way tickets to a sunburnt country.

Although the first passenger jet was manufactured in 1958, we somehow ended up on a plane with four propellers, each of which I regularly inspected from my window reassuring my parents and other passengers they were still turning. The engines were loud, and there were no TV screens showing episodes of Mr Bean or Faulty Towers to keep passengers entertained. It was a very long trip, but to a five year old plasticine makes it easier, which I shaped into the images I had seen on TV Ð the Opera House and kangaroos, I gave up on the Harbour Bridge.

The first thing we worked on was our tan, we needed to, we stood out abroad like only the Brits can. We used to look inquisitively at Australians sitting under trees in parks, why waste good sunshine? Soon we learnt why and I had my first taste of sunburn, crikey! Australians were friendly and optimistic. The scenery was truly panoramic, no hills, grey buildings or clouds obscuring the infinite horizon. The cities were clean and stylish, and as we headed across the Nullarbor to Perth, we were greeted by a remote and vibrant oasis with the R&I building standing proud at its heart. The view from Kings Park was magical, and every moment was captured on camera as though our relatives would experience our every breath.

Australia has been kind to us. We have been back and forth to the UK, but we always return. Dad always said ‘you can get ahead in Australia\’, and whether he meant financially or the lifestyle, I think he\’s right. I remember seeing my parents on stage during the Citizenship ceremony, but I underestimated the freedom and choice this would bring me in later years. Days spent at Smith\’s Beach and Bunker Bay, walks along the Cape Naturalist coastline, and weekend visits to Augusta made my childhood particularly special. After graduating from the London School of Economics, I returned to complete a Masters in Demographics in the leafy surroundings of the Australian National University, where I met my beautiful wife Jacqueline, born in Sydney, raised in Perth with Assyrian heritage. I now live and work in Canberra, assisting others to holiday, work, study and reside in the lucky country. The stories others tell bring joy to my heart, and richness and diversity to all our lives.

My story is written for my inspirational and encouraging father Graham Larsen, my compassionate and loving mother Sandra Larsen, my sharp and humorous sister Ceri Macleod and my beautiful and gifted wife Jacqueline Joudo Larsen.

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