Back in the mists of time, before sputnik, before The Beatles, when Eisenhower ruled from The White House and Menzies was ensconced in The Lodge, three boys lived in Hunter Street, Hornsby, in red brick bungalows, behind white picket fences with neatly trimmed front lawns. Henry and Robert lived on the east side with a squeaking gate that Robert’s father had installed in the shared fence. James lived on the west side beside the house belonging to Nurse Towells.
Each morning Henry, Robert and James would walk to school together, holding hands as they crossed busy George Street then up and over the narrow railway pedestrian walkway. They arrived at the public school on the highway just as the bell rang for the 9 o’clock assembly.
The trio is oblivious to the passage of 55 years, content with their volunteer role with the Maritime Museum, and with their easy friendship.