In 1987 my mother took my sister and I to Sydney for a week. We took the bus from Adelaide because Mum couldn’t afford the plane tickets. Mum wanted to show us Sydney because she was thinking of moving us there for a better life. My sister and I weren’t convinced. In fact we were ardently opposed to the idea. At 14 and 15 you can imagine why.

We stayed at a friend’s place. Someone my mum knew through work, so no one we knew really. They had a rambling townhouse in Glebe. It was comfortable enough except that they had no TV and this was a problem for me.

The week we were in Sydney was the same week that Jeff Fenech was fighting Greg ‘the Flea’ Richardson and I wanted to watch it. Yes. I was a 15-year-old boxing fan. I’ve always loved boxing. Don’t ask me why. I’m not a violent person but there’s something about boxing that has always enthralled me. And no one more so than the Marickville Mauler, Fenech.

So mum, doing her best to make the trip a good experience for us in spite of our protests, rented me a television. It was an old box style TV that was delivered on a stand to the house. We had it for one day and it probably cost about $100. This is 1987. Before the Internet. Before Aldi was even thought of and discount TVs were decades away from being on the shelves.

I have no memory of watching that boxing match. But I do remember that TV and how my Mum rented it just for me when she couldn’t even afford the airfares from Adelaide to Sydney.

Mum died 14 years ago today. But it’s memories like this one and random things like televised boxing matches that keep her close.