Not really from any archive, but from my mother’s letters, here’s this gem. In 1972, when my nephew Matthew was five years old, my mother was told of the following conversation – not (‘of course’) by any of the protagonists. The only background you need to know is that Matthew and his family had Oxley Creek flowing past the back of their Brisbane home, and there was a little rowboat pretty much permanently moored at the bottom of their yard
Matthew: Daddy, I can swim.
Michael (Matthew’s father): How do you know? It’s winter and the pool is empty.
Matthew: I fell out of the boat.
My mother’s comment: ‘Thank God he could swim, eh?’