Every Saturday in 1945, my mother and her sister would travel from the farm to the small town of Tocumwal on the Murray River for a dance held at the local hall. The return trip was full of gossip about the night and anticipation around the following week. Years later, in Bendigo, at another gathering in another hall, my parents met. Dad asked Mum to dance. She took the offer, returned to her teacher’s college after curfew and was grounded for two weeks. He waited each week. She didn’t show. Six years later with a lot of dances and halls in between, they were hitched. And that’s a recent story.…