I was brought up on 5 acres in the Valla hinterland. The pic above is of dad's factory/shed. What you can't see to the left is the other half of the shed where we lived.
This pic brings back a lot of memories for me. Resin smells were never far away and dad was always pedantic about me never leaving the door open between the living area and shed... I had to be very careful around the boards... and I shouldn't touch anything. Which was sort of hard because when you're a kid, beautiful wet, shiny resin looks like great fun to touch. But going into the shed was serious stuff and dad made sure I was aware of the gravity of the situation.
Another memory this pic brings back to me is waiting while dad would finish making my boards. It always felt like it would take him forever. When i turned 7 and I could finally swim 50 metres unaided at the local pool I was awarded my first board... 4'9" double flyer with a winged-keel. I did some of the artwork on the foam myself. A few years later I was watching dad sanding a new board for me which I had been waiting for, for a while ... and it was taking him ages. I remember looking up at him ( he looked a lot bigger back then) and suggesting that he hurry it up a bit. He looked at me a bit taken-aback and explained that he was sanding out all the bumps. (Childspeak for fairing the form I guess). I told him that I didn't care about the bumps and that I just wanted to ride the board. Dad looked at me with a very serious face and in a dead-pan voice told me "You might not care about the bumps but I do". And that was that.
I like this shot of dad. I think the sign sums up a major part of his philosophy.