Christmas Day, Bondi Beach.
My mother watched from the shore, as she had a broken foot, and stitches, but we still played in the water, oblivious to her desire to be with us. We swam out far, I mean my father swam with me on his back, as I was only four years old.
We reached a sandbank, and the waves towered over me, and knocked me down every time they hit me. I laughed and splashed, while my brother was tumbled as if he was in a washing machine.
Our fun was cut short as a helicopter flew overhead, announcing a Great White Shark. It had been spotted just off the beach. It was time to go back to the beach. Barbeque time.
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