One of my few childhood photos in which I try smiling.
That's me on the left.
I've been reliably informed that I was a pretty solemn child after my parents separated and this is shown in my many generous attempts at smiling for the camera resembling something closer to a Gaze Of Death.
The reddish hotspot burned into this photo looks strangely like a Kirlian actualization of my Grimace of Joy, beaming it's way to the photographer.
This was taken in the idyllic suburb of the Laverton Airforce Base where my stepfather was posted. The boy next to me was possibly named Damien, but this is unlikely due to the fact that my appalling memory for names is only surpassed by my appalling memory for birthdays, tunes and jokes.
As I have arguably grown into a well-adjusted adult, I can look beyond my clenched teeth and uptight posture and, looking closely at the Fibro Housing Estate, can quite unequivocably state that Laverton was an ugly shithole.
