It’s a few hours from the Goldfields, where I live, to Rye, where my boyfriend Frank lives, but also a few decades. For a Brit like me, this coastal Victorian town is like wandering into the pages of Puberty Blues – and exactly how I imagined Australia to be, back before I actually moved here.
Most of the Mornington Peninsula (or Ninch, to locals) might be undergoing one long facelift, but Rye – in particular the back beach area – is an enclave that has held fast to its wild and woolly roots. Tradies who moved here in the 1990s for the surfing lifestyle are now sitting on properties worth a million-plus, but most aren’t budging – and neither are their kids.
