Peter Goers

You know, never hugged me or indeed seemed to value me at all.

You know, whatever I did was not good enough.

I knew he loved me, but whatever I did was not good enough.

And I was lazy and indolent and so forth, even though, you know, I think I had six jobs before I left school, delivering newspapers, selling newspapers, et cetera, working at John Martin's as a shop assistant.

And still he'd say, you couldn't work in an iron line.

You know, that sort of thing.

And then at the memorial service for my parents, his friends would come up to me and they'd say, do you know, every time we saw your father, all he could talk about was you.

and how proud he was of you.

And I was glad to hear that, but I was also affronted, really, Richard, because I thought, why didn't he tell me?

So that's the perversity right there.

That's the perversity.

But it was very common with men, particularly of that generation.

But he was still loving in his own way and appreciative, I think.

How about your mum, Margaret Leonore Dunstan?

I adored my mother.

She was a good woman.

She was a strong woman.

She was... There again, it's generationally sad that she was an intelligent woman...

raised by a countrywoman, a housewife, and her father was a First World War digger who was a clerk at Elders.

You can't get more South Australian than that, to be a clerk at Elders.