My first memory is from when I was 6 months old. 50 years later I told my mother what I had seen and she was able to pinpoint the date, time and place. The memory begins in a small church, me clothed in white, held in my father's arms seated next to the entrance. I looked up and saw my mother standing in the wedding party on the bride's side. I recognised her and began to cry. My father carried me out of the church, walked along a loose white stone path, crunching under foot. He then proceeded across a narrow footbridge where a river flowed underneath. He may have walked on further, I don't recall, but I remember the walk back to the church. Apparently, my mother had been matron of honour at her best friend's wedding at a church in the suburb of Kew, near the Yarra River, in Melbourne.