A lady called Daphne phoned to buy Sex in Your Seventies. The money arrived and I dispatched it promptly. After about a week, she phoned to say how she had enjoyed the book, and wished to order four more. She asked a prudish friend if she had read it?
‘What on earth would I read anything like that for?’ the friend, widow of a parson replied.
‘It’s a good read! I’m giving this copy to you!’ The widow lady pursed her lips in a staid fashion, and reluctantly accepted the book.

Daphne went on to tell me how she saw her friend some days later, asked her how she liked the book. The friend replied, with a smile, that she was enjoying it immensely, and that she should have read it years ago!

Daphne asked if she could put my name forward as future guest speaker (about Barefoot in Logan Village) to her church group, the very church where I was christened all those years ago? Of course, I replied.

And a relative of hers on the North Coast wanted me as guest speaker, topic Sex in Your Seventies, to her social group. And that’s the way it goes. It all happens by word of mouth.

The first half of my talk is about my life, the early years on the dairy farm, walking barefoot three miles to school at Logan Village, the subsequent move to Brisbane, and the advent of World War II., which interrupted my education; the move to North Tamborine when I was 65, and my being accepted to study at Griffith University when I was 71; obtaining my BA, then my BA (Hons).

The second half is about Sex in Your Seventies, and I discuss briefly each chapter, some of which are quite funny, a couple sad (like the homosexual man who generously told me of his life). There is a lesson in each chapter. It makes you think, makes you ask yourself, ‘What would I have done?’