I was only just turned 6 and my memories are not strong. After we disembarked at Outer Harbor I vaguely remember waiting for a train. I think of it like a desolate scene from a western movie, tumbleweed blowing and and a railway track leading to the unknown. We headed to the migrant camp of nissen huts where fortunately we didn't have to stay too long. We lived in Para Hills and then Glenelg. Seven and a half years in Adelaide then two and a half in Melbourne. The older children (of a family of 6) had left and then I returned to the UK with my younger brother and parents on my 16th birthday, 1971. I grew up with the problems of identity with people and place that many migrants face (I have an entry in the book 'Ten Pound Poms: Australia's Invisible Migrants' which explores these themes). I have returned to Australia many times, 3 times attempting a permanent stay, but I have always been drawn back to England. It seems I am more comfortable living in England and returning to Australia in my mind rather than the other way round. With different twists of fate it could have worked out differently. And so the migrant is a wanderer!


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