It might have been dad who pushed me into my first wave, but truth be told my formative surfing years probably owe more to my mother. Indeed, had my mum not surfed I might never have come to be.
The story goes that it was the late 60s when a young carpentry apprentice headed to Maroubra to see a man about a job. Of course when he arrived early for the meeting he realised the waves were pumping. Crisp lines wrapping into the long, scalloped beach that was bookended by a forest of unit blocks at one
