Scenario: A soft focus screen wipe.
Soundtrack: Embarassingly wistful sigh.
As a young, pimply teenager assaulted with the usual slew of rampaging hormones, I had the good fortune to be friends with a family of tall, loud and happily welcoming Dutch folk.
They had four strapping sons - a word I wouldn't normally use unless it successfully carried all the implied masculine trappings of a blacksmith's sweaty bicep - all of whom were handsome, bearded, athletic and intelligent.
For the sake of spending time in their company I forswore my naturally sulky teenage slothlike angst and learnt how to ski, surf, kneeboard, hike and go bowling.
These two are the oldest and youngest of the brothers. Here, I was idly swinging my gangly legs off the tray of the jeep after surfing Phillip Island in harshly chill weather, when we both drew our cameras simultaneously.
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