Sydney in the 1960s wasn't the exuberant multicultural metropolis it is today. Out in the city's western reaches days passed in a sun-struck stupor. In the evenings families gathered on their verandas waiting for the 'southerly buster' - the thunderstorm that would break the heat and leave the air cool enough to allow sleep.

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When superstition is allowed to perform the task of old age in dulling the human temperament we can say goodbye to all excellence in poetry in painting and in music.