A story first, to set the scene.
After my father recovered from his jukebox business going bust at the end of the fifties, he returned to being a salesman, as he’d done before the war. He teamed up with a small commercial refrigeration manufacturer, and became their roving sales rep, checking out new shops and following up leads, trying to explain why a custom-designed and specced ‘fridge or cool-room was better than a standard model from a big company.
This often involved going to the Queen Victoria Market (‘Queen Vic’ to Melbournites) to meet with the country growers before they got busy with customers. I remember us leaving home at three or four in the morning, driving through dark streets, and stopping at red lights when there was no other car on the road – and asking that typical little kid question: Why?
