From my youth I have fond memories of this iconic building, St Johns Lutheran Church. Not Sunday services but the friends I made and the antics we got up to.

I remember climbing that incredibly high ladder up into the bell tower when someone left the door unlocked.

I remember scrawling our names in chalk on the bell. Nothing that would be damaging but enough for others to know we had been there.

None of us was game to actually ring it but a gentle knock on the bell with our knuckles and hearing that soft mellow response barely loud enough to hear was satisfying enough to know we could have if we really wanted to.

Now when ever I visit Tanunda, the town of my youth, the cross atop the steeple of St Johns Lutheran Church speaks to me with nostalgia, “we were there once”.