being a schoolboy surfer in 1959
We had no time for their Prefects and sport-games, their cadet corps and exams, no time for their rules and commandments, their uniforms, their classrooms and lessons. Their floggings.
Posts from the ‘Bondi’ Category
Sep 19
13 Comments
a lost life
She was a small and beautiful girl, a capricious and effervescent youngster whose light shone bright at Bondi - her shining beacons were of brightness and naivety
les girls, the boys from the cross come to bondi, things do not go well.
1961, bondi is invaded by the transvestite dancers from the kings cross nightclub, 'the all male review' - everybody hurts
a bright future in retailing
Then the hangover stood up and waved at me, waved a big red flag at me. Lots of drums in the background.
voyeurism and the outlaw south bondi boardriders
Everybody fell off in those conditions, and their loose boards smashed and collided their way to the beach - a rolling logjam of splintering balsa and spearing boards
the beating
Somebody pulled him off the still body and everybody drifted away. The big man's wallet lay by his side, come adrift in the turmoil.
the jewish kid, harry
Imagine counting every grain of sand on the beach, and in the park, and all those carried away in cars over the last 30 years. Tourists travelling from here to all corners of the earth. Imagine.
mick dooley cutting back
I don't see anybody doing this manoeuve, even up here at Byron where the waves are so easy you can surf them with your eyes closed
ben buckler, ben the bumpy – the hero wave
Ben Buckler, the world's bumpiest wave. A condensed appraisal.
the balconies
So hard to resist the welcome breath of a summer north-easter, and the allure of that bone white arc of Bondi.
the bondi astra, barry, and the death cut
There was so much sand on the floor of the public bar at closing time that the tiles were covered, and after twenty years all the colours had been rubbed away, sandpapered off by the bare feet of a generation of shoeless drinkers.
another history of bondi
One mile away to the south Bondi would greet the dawn like an overworked whore on a Sunday morning with dozens of French Letters littering her high water mark.
Terry T-Shirt
And when the long awaited set finally did arrive the only person in the right position to take it was Terry T-shirt, every bloody time. He had this uncanny knack of being able to time the arrival of the next set of waves, not only that but until his private alarm bell rang he’d be inside pinching all those waves as well, and all alone.
what surfers drive – the 1964 mini-minor
The ad also displaces the myth that surfers in the sixties all had long bleached hair, as the dudes in the pic are no doubt typical of the era and all have the look of Junior Executives ready for some hang-ten time.
cliques, the bondi variety
These lads are known to meet from time to time around one of the tables of the Great Northern in Byron Bay with their part Filipina grandchildren squabbling around underfoot, and they mutter and grumble over their drinks about typhoons and squalls, and Catholic wives.
petebowes.com 