Australian summers conjure up all sorts of images, mostly favourable, especially now that la Niña has passed. Of course, nothing can topple the edifice of cold seafood, fizz and heat, beach and beer, that dominates this time of year; the familiar rewind across extended periods with family. These are the tattoos of summer, as much as the mozzies, mangoes, frangipani and wafts of eucalyptus oil, coloured with memories, mostly wonderful. In my case, walking barefoot along an interminable dirt track, swatting flies to the sickly smell of strawberry wax melting from my surfboard. Peering over a sand dune and glimpsing the surf at last, my walk would turn to a sprint as euphoria took over. In that moment, young or older, I felt an overwhelming sense that being alive is…