past, often a painful exercise, preferring to

live positively day-to-day. But sometimes events conspire to jog the memory banks.

I'm writing this on a busy production

day and my wife Alita, aka the Redhead,

is at the funeral of a family friend, Terry

Henley, who died too young, cut down by

the Big C.

Throwing back the curtains this morning, I looked out on a leaden sky and misty showers and remarked: ''What a depressing sight.''

''Perfect for a funeral,'' Alita said.

Ah, yes, funerals. Perhaps more than any other catalyst, death brings on nostalgia. So do birthdays and wedding anniversaries.

Two weeks ago I turned 64, but feel no differently than I did at 24, after returning

from New Zealand where I'd lived for three

years in the picturesque town of Queenstown.

In those days I was bulletproof, climbing mountains every day and camping out high in the alps, hunting deer - a national pest- for a living.

Today is our 37th wedding anniversary and after the funeral we're celebrating tonight as we invariably do -with a meal at a good local restaurant.

But 37 years! Some might call it a life sentence. Where did those years all go so

quickly? Only seems like yesterday I was

15 and madly in love for the first time.

But to stay together that long, the bond has to be strong.

I was a rebel as a youth, son of a party-

loving businessman. A Catholic school boy, I dumped the church, ran away from home and nurtured the chip on my shoulder until I met Alita, daughter of a South Coast grazier.

Got married later than most of my mates and had difficulty adjusting, but we eventually produced two wonderful kids, the joys of our life and on the verge of starting their own families.

So from a dysfunctional start to adulthood, I settled down as much as I ever would. Looking back, I drank too much during my early media career. Too selfish, I took a long time to learn the art of compromise and understanding the needs of others, the glue that keeps relationships, especially marriage, together, in my view.

Now, it eventuates, Alita's health - and my workaholic nature - may preclude us from ever retiring north, as planned. But what the hell, we're happy enough - and have 37 reasons to prove it.