How fondly I remember those early days of excitement making movies. Gunslingers we felt like.
Your house in Newtown with cardboard boxes filled with papers and writings and books scattered all over the floor and a cold bottle of beer to share.
We also shared a couple of movies playing brothers in Blood Money (did we get paid?) and, of course, in Albie’s Palm Beach.
And still we keep going – you being the academic and commenting and me making the bloody things.
There has to be a million worse things and maybe no better thing than to be involved in telling stories. A blessed place to be no matter where our interests lie.
Let’s talk on your 90th.