Summer in Sydney means ... the surf, southerly busters, ferries and mosquitos

What does Sydney mean to you?

Southerly busters, drinking from a bubbler, the smell of rain on the road, going under the hose (even now as an adult) and floating idly in the pool or sea, sticky fingers from ice-cream and suntan lotion, family and memories of parents who are not around any more, beach, books and more books and days reading, pre-Christmas angst of obligation and organisation, Christmas day crepes and memories of turkeys that were undercooked that stuffed my plans, happy children who were then teens and now happy adults opening presents, post-holiday stupor and relief, weekends up and down the coast, prawns and oysters, and slow wanders around galleries with air-conditioning and movies in cool cinemas.

Harbord Beach back in the 1970s.Credit: Fairfax Media

First memory of Sydney?

Going to Harbord Beach with Dad and Lolly. Lolly was a tiny Australian terrier who liked to jump out the car’s window at busy intersections on our way to the beach.

In those very olden days, we had an even older Holden that had no air-conditioning except holes in the floor. And long before the Keep Australia Beautiful campaign, my brothers and I liked to squeeze rubbish out those holes. There were no iPads or phones to keep us otherwise occupied.

If the windows of the car were rolled down, Lolly would fly out when we stopped at any intersection, and Dad would have to chase the silly heel-biting dog across the traffic. Keeping Lolly secure inside the car meant sweltering with the windows rolled up.

When I was a very little girl, Dad would take me out the back of Harbord on his shoulders to catch a wave. Those rides to the shore seemed to last forever. It felt like we were bobbing in the middle of the Pacific, so far away from the shore and my younger brothers on the sand.

As an old man, he still loved body surfing. He is now dead, but every time I get a wave, even one that involves a faceful of sand, I think of how going for a surf – and a walk and talk – was something we loved to do together.

And Lolly, the escapee, came home dead one day wrapped in newspaper like fish and chips. I opened the door to a woman asking, “Is your mum home?” Before I could reply, the woman thrust the bundle into my arms and left with rushed apologies.

First place you take visitors?

On the ferry. It is the cheapest therapy I know, with the best views, that improves anyone’s mood. Try Rose Bay to Circular Quay, the Quay to Milson’s Point after a night out, Pyrmont to Balmain or a trip up to Parramatta.

Best summer food?

The best meals every summer are with friends. The first is a day or two before Christmas when we buy baguettes, slather them with fresh butter, and add prawns and rocket. Later in summer, we always go down the coast to gorge on more prawns, often local school prawns, and oysters.

Worst thing about summer?

Mosquitos, the smell of bushfires, and the news of people who have drowned.

Guilty pleasure?

This year I am escaping my usual frenzy of organising Christmas by driving across the Nullarbor with a friend and her dog. I am hoping like crazy that when I return before Xmas, the tree will be up and decorated, with at least one bauble hanging, presents will have been bought, food organised and the house clean ... If we can believe briefly in Santa, surely I can hope for this. (PS. The road trip was brilliant, open horizons. As for the jobs, the tree was decorated but a new kitten kept climbing to the top which meant only one garland survived. The house was tidy and clean and the entertaining successfully outsourced. I’d say mission accomplished.)

What should always stay the same?

I wish Dad was here for just one more surf, walk and talk.

Summer in Sydney is a series where Herald staff reveal the best – and worst – of our city in the hotter months.

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