Vale Randolph Stowe. To the Islands!

'Under his sandals, leaves and nuts fallen from the Moreton Bay figtrees crunched and popped. Beyond the merry-go-round was the sea. The colour of the sea should have astounded, but the boy was seldom astounded. It was simply the sea, dark and glowing blue, bisected by seagull-grey timbers of the rotting jetty, which dwindled away in the distance until it seemed to come to an end in the flat-topped hills to the north. He did not think about the sea, or about the purple bougainvillea that glowed against it, propped on a sagging shed. These existed only as the familiar backdrop of the merry-go-round. Nevertheless, the colours had entered into him, printing a brilliant memory.'


This excerpt is from Randolph Stowe's book The Merry go round under the Sea.  Randolph Stowe lived in England for a lot of his later years but has writen some wonderful books with an Australian background. He died this week aged 75 years.