By Lisa Johnson

Copyright smh

I fell instantly in love with Mr Redford, as only a teenage girl might. There he was, on the big screen, in his white navy uniform, his tousled blonde hair accentuating that jawline. His voice, like warm toffee. No other actor came close to winning my affections.

I professed my undying love over the years that followed, at our continued meetings. He maintained the “looking good in white” theme in The Great Gatsby in 1974, which led me to the novels of F. Scott Fitzgerald. On a Friday night in 1976, I saw the critically acclaimed All the President’s Men at the cinema in Parramatta. I’m embarrassed to say I dozed off for a while. As a 15-year-old, my grasp of American politics was scant. Yet a spark was ignited that night – an interest in politics.

Disco, Saturday Night Fever, senior school and a part-time job at the new fast-food “restaurant”, McDonald’s, consumed much of the last years of the 1970s. And my relationship with Redford was pushed to the background through teachers’ college.

It was Out of Africa in 1985 that brought him hurtling back – not least into my journey of learning, to understand more about colonisation and discover the writings of Danish author Karen Blixen.