Before I tell you the story of the Secret Park, I will give you some personal background. I am a baby boomer, born in Mackay when the sugar industry was ‘king’. My father was the Chief Cane Inspector for Farleigh Mill, which is situated about 8 miles north of Mackay. Thus my early childhood was spent in a large colonial-style house that sat in an acre of grounds. This was my first park. Until I went to school, I used to follow the Mill gardener, Mr Wagner, while he worked, and as I ate his morning tea, he ate mine. He capably mowed our large front lawn of quarter of an acre with a scythe. My eldest brother remembers my father's passion for large-scale planting ― the whole front yard planted once with tomatoes and once with pansies.