Canberra - Seventies Book

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It Happened in the Seventies - Sea Change Story

An intriguing story of risk-taking, self-discovery and profound change.

Arriving in Brisbane -The Seventies - Book Snippet

It Happened in the Seventies - Book by Dieter Luske

Gold Coast - Brisbane

Tweed Heads was next on our map. We stayed for a couple of days and even tried our luck fishing until a guy came and said, “No fish here, mate”. I believed him.

Everything looked different from around Tweed Heads and further on as we left New South Wales and drove  along the Gold Coast in Queensland. Even a couple of high-rise buildings, golden beaches and places with enticing  names such as Surfers Paradise. We walked around for a while admiring the beach before settling down for the night at a well-groomed camping ground on Main Beach.

After our brown rice and vegetable dinner, I developed a nasty toothache. I tried my home remedy of gargling with whisky to dull the pain when a fellow camper told me we could get free dental care in Brisbane. I didn’t need to be told twice; we went straight to Brisbane the next morning.

We parked on a reasonably busy city street but worried someone might pinch belongings from our roof rack. We had no choice; I needed to see a dentist quickly; the pain had become unbearable. We asked for directions to the dental hospital.  I couldn’t believe my luck; without waiting, they took me in, and 10 minutes later, the offending tooth was gone. Unbelievably, the cost for this operation was only $3.50; that's what I call affordable dental care.

Emergency over, we wandered the streets of Brisbane; not a modern city, but we liked it. It had the laid-back feel of a big country town and was less hectic than Sydney. We dressed casually, in cut-off jeans, a T-shirt, and thongs. We were not dressed to impress. No wonder we were surprised when from a passing car someone waved at us. It was a well-dressed guy. He stopped and called out to us, “You are Germans, aren’t you?” Oh my God, do we look that much like Germans? He turned out to be Austrian and invited us for coffee in the afternoon. “Please call me in one hour, my wife and I will be home by then,” he said, handing me a card with his phone number, and drove on.

Giselle and I looked at each other. Was that for real? Maybe he was a serial killer, or wanted to share more than coffee. His invitation took a while to digest, but in the end, we made that call from a phone booth. A minute later, we had their details and street directions.

We found their house and parked on the driveway. It was an old Queenslander, high set, with plenty of space underneath between concrete stumps. We walked up the wooden staircase; Heike and Gerd were at the door to greet us. Apart from beams of light streaming in from the doorways, the hallway was dimly lit. The whole set-up was a bit spooky.

We sat at their large kitchen table, drinking coffee and chatting animatedly. We seemed to hit it off nicely, and they decided we had to stay for dinner. We obliged. Gerd left to buy beer while we talked to Heike.

He returned with the beer, each 500ml bottle disguised by a brown paper bag. The first bottle, Victoria Bitter, emerged from the bag. That dinner was especially welcome, not only because it was delicious, but also because it was our first home-cooked meal in quite a while.

By now, it was dark, and the house appeared even spookier than before.

We were comfortably settled in the living room, drinking more beers while our topics gradually switched to the spirit world. We had an affinity for ghost stories and the supernatural; no wonder our stories became more involved and took on a reality of their own. We were having a good time,  but something in Gerd's demeanour stopped us from feeling fully relaxed.

Gerd was a representative for a pharmaceutical company. The subject of ‘the pill’ came up. Gerd clearly felt strongly about it, warning us of the terrible side effects it would cause. I didn’t want Giselle popping those nasty-sounding pills. And sure enough, the conversation was taking on a slightly sexy topic, discussing alternative contraception.

Come bedtime, we would happily have returned to the comfort of our car, but our hosts insisted we use the spare bedroom.

I woke up hearing footsteps. "Did you hear that?" I asked, waking Giselle. "What?" she asked.
"Psssss – someone is walking, listen.” There it was again, definitely footsteps. I got out of bed, crept to the door, and listened intensely. I couldn’t hear or see a thing; it was pitch dark. I went back to bed. “It must have been something else; I don’t think it was Gerd sneaking around,” I said, but the weird walking noises continued.

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It Happened in the Seventies

A Memoir of Love, Colliding Worlds and a House on a Hill

An intriguing story of personal risk-taking, self-discovery and profound change.

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...available as e-book - paperback & hard cover

Dieter Luske -> Author Profile

Published by LU-Books

An inspiring read of a life-changing escapade Down Under

Phil Brown – Arts Editor

Canberra - The Seventies - Photos:

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Surfers Paradise - The Seventies

Brisbane - The Seventies

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