Growing up in the old family home in New Zealand was an amazing adventure, although Archie didn't realise it at the time. This particular suburb was on the country's least desirable list where a high level of crime was reported daily to which he, and a few mates, contributed depending on the weather and other circumstances. Subsequently the inhabitants were under constant harassment from young men on pushbikes sporting pristine white shirts and large black Bibles determined to alleviate their suffering - it didn't help, them or the residents. The front yard of the house looked like a train wreck with uncut lawn and dilapidated vehicles. The backyard was worse with a plethora of unfinished projects everywhere, more cars in various states of repair, numerous motorcycles, a speedboat and a small beer garden with a mountain of beer bottles signalling its presence. Life was good then.