Australia

Kangaroo in My Kitchen by Ethel Sloan review

I was intrigued by this book’s garish 1980s cover and its promise of “one American woman’s devastating experience of life down under”. 

Front cover of ‘Kangaroo in my Kitchen’ by Ethel Sloan

After flipping to a random page where she’s traipsing around town seeking out “dimes” for a washing machine I thought it might be a Karen-esque sort of opinion piece from an entitled person who came to Australia expecting it to be exactly like America.

But what actually is is a little more insightful.

What reviews that there are online comment say “nasty, vicious diatribe against Australia and its people, particularly the women, by a privileged American woman who clearly did not wish to be there”.

It is all these things, but that doesn’t make it a bad book. 

I read in a couple of hours in between other things. 

It’s insightful because it’s not viewing Sydney or moving to Australia through rose-tinted glasses “not even a pinkish hue” as the blurb says.

And this less than rosy perspective is what makes it interesting. There are likely a lot of perspectives of people moving to Australia which are positive, in video or audio mediums those would be the ones that have been preserved. 

But this more critical perspective probably only lives in the letter pages of magazines, letters to family and friends, and perhaps the occasional letter to the editor in a small newspaper. 

Images (aside from the covers) are from Wikimedia Commons from 1970/1971, and one from 1969, to illustrate the environment she probably would have seen.


It’s 1970/71.

Ethel Sloan’s husband Bernard (Bernie to Ethel) has been offered a 2 year placement in Australia with his advertising company. They’re sending him out to Australia to “Americanize” the creative department in Sydney.

Ethel explains that Bernie’s been with the agency for 10 years and she thinks this 2 year move is a chance for him to try something new. Ethel isn’t a fan of new things. 

Ethel by her own admission is happy with a boring life, a samey life, the same discussions, visiting the same places, same friends and parties etc. She’s got her group of friends around her. 

She’s just had their house repainted and got the furnishing and layout just as she wanted it and the bathroom leak has been fixed. Plus they’ve just got new whitegoods!

It’s all just…nice.

And now Bernie is talking about going to Australia for 2 years?!

One of Ethel’s questions in the early chapter of the book was “what about tennis” to which her husband challenges “you think there’ll be a shortage of tennis in Australia?”

This is weirdly something which will crop up later in the book.

What’s interesting in the following couple of chapters in the lead up to the move is the lack of ‘information availability’ as I came to think of it as I read through this thin tome. 

It’s something I noticed reading it from a 21st century perspective, and something I’ve not really noticed reading other history books which are usually published in the last 10 years or whatever looking back rather than a contemporary account.

Ethel doesn’t know what to expect, the information she has comes from the World Book Encyclopedia and her friends.

And the brochures about Australia which simply adds to her concerns / confusion they show surfing but also skiing, she takes many suitcases including her ski gear because she thinks she’ll be able to go from the beach to the slopes regularly (aside from one holiday away it doesn’t seem like she escapes Sydney much). 

The weather in general seems to fill her with much angst, and no one including the company moving them to Australia seems to tell her what to expect.

She speaks to several people who give her conflicting information; it’s warm, it’s cold etc, leave your fur coat at home the Sydney weather is lovely, but you might need it, you’ll freeze at night. 

This latter one does pan out to be true.

She introduces us to her friends who are fine, if unadventurous. 

Waikiki, beach and high rise hotels; Honolulu, Oahu, Hawaii. August 1970. File:Hawaii, United States (28252953655).jpg. (2022, August 12). Wikimedia Commons. Retrieved 05:48, June 9, 2023 from link. Author: Urbain J. Kinet

But she also paints them as widely read / widely informed, especially compared to Australian women. 

The actual travel to Australia Bernie turns it into an extended holiday, first they’re in Maui (rather than Honolulu) which Ethel likens to Georgia.

What contemporary photos I could find from a quick search for both these locations and that Ethel describes it as being mostly under construction (they also stayed in one of the older hotels) I can imagine Ethel’s disappointment.

On from there they go to Tahiti and New Zealand, in the latter she enjoys herself, seeing the natural wonders it has to offer, seeing the sheep that look like fluffy clouds. They go mountain climbing and a policeman on a motorcycle escorts them to the zoo after they get lost, and they enjoy sulphur baths and see a power plant that doesn’t use any oil. 

I suspect if Ethel and Bernie had moved to New Zealand in the 1970s instead of Australia in the 1970s she might have written a more positive book than this one.

Upon arriving in Australia, or just as the plane is getting ready to land Ethel’s angst of appearances rises up

Upon hearing the local manager for the advertising agency would be meeting them at the airport she is understandably anxious, asking Bernie why he didn’t tell her?

“He had the gall to ask me what difference it made. What difference? My hair was a disaster, my clothes looked as if they have been squeezed into suitcases, the boys looked like urchins, we all looked like refugees, and he wanted to know what difference it made.”

This does come off as a bit dramatic, but I think her anxieties are real, and she’s just moved across the globe and her husband has been less than honest with her. His boss meeting them at the airport is not exactly the way Ethel would want the first meeting to happen.

Tom Middleton, the manager of the Sydney agency meets them at the airport.

Upon seeing the Australian men, women and their children waiting for Ethel and Bernie (and their two kids) at the airport terminal Ethel observes they all look like they’re from the 1950s. 

Which is an interesting observation, there’s often accounts of people saying in the past and even recent past that Australia feels like it’s 10 years behind the rest of the world. And in the 1970s coming from the US to Sydney it probably felt like a bit of a time jump in difference. 

Expressway, Woolomolloo (1970). File:70-755 Woolomolloo, Sydney 1970 (51217728742).jpg. (2023, June 3). Wikimedia Commons. Retrieved 05:38, June 9, 2023 from link. Author: wilford peloquin

The drive from Sydney Airport through the suburbs and into the CBD itself is less inspiring for Ethel she comments “not a kangaroo or gumtree in sight”.

She’s transported in a limousine with the Janice the wife of Tom and her kids (Paul and Steven). Bernie’s off with Tom Middleton.

Crossing the harbour bridge Ethel mentions that a bridge in Melbourne (the West Gate) collapsed recently. 

They’re then taken to some apartments after exiting at Kirribilli. 

First thing her oldest remarks on is how cold it is. Which is weird as everyone’s in flowery dresses at the airport. 

And Ethel remarks on the blue skies and sunshine as she’s driven out to their first house.

Janice has helpfully filled the kitchen with the basics in the fridge; milk, butter, orange cordial, sweet cream, eggs and lamb chops (which were stamped with 39 cents a pound). The cupboards held instant coffee, loose tea, bread, Weet-Bix and Vegemite - which Ethel describes as “a mouth burning vegetable extract which Australians smeared on their bread”.

Janice also brings out a quart of Scotch which they get stuck into waiting for the men to arrive.

As they go to bed on their first night in Sydney they both change into their nightclothes remarking how freezing it is. 

It seems they arrived in October 1970 or possibly 1971, (based on the references to the West Gate collapse) being a thing of conversation I'm considering it October 1970.

Looking at the Bureau of Meteorology’s monthly climate statistics for that era in Sydney the maximum mean temperature for October 1970 was 23.6ºC and the minimum mean was 13.6ºC. So while it was cool it wasn't freezing, even drilling down to a day-by-day data level it was only ever just below 10ºC. Perhaps it was just unexpectedly cooler than Ethel had been expecting?

I know Australian houses especially of that era didn’t have the greatest of insulation, but it’s still an odd observation. Unless (as Ethel seemed to lament often) she was expecting heating/cooling in the house to keep it at an even temperature. 

Manly, Sydney (1970). File:70-757 Manly, Sydney 1970 (51218653178).jpg. (2023, June 3). Wikimedia Commons. Retrieved 05:40, June 9, 2023 from link. Author: wilford peloquin

Ethel gets a Mini Minor to drive around in, apparently that’s as much as they think women can handle, and she starts looking at real estate adverts. 

She also gets her kids enrolled in school and faces the public school system where her kids get the cane, it doesn’t go well.

Apparently her kids in the US went to a school with a TV studio and pottery kiln. 

While at the first school she sends her kids to, they’re expected to go across the road to the milk bar for lunch and they’re given free “curdled milk” twice a day.

That night Ethel goes home and cries about all the Australian kids who go to school to learn and instead are “were treated as animals to be tamed”. 

Again I wonder if this is hyperbole or genuine concern / culture shock for Ethel. It’s certainly insightful regardless. 

She remarks “We had moved not only to another continent, but another century.”

Then she tries the private schools:

  • Knox is booked out till 1984

  • Barker has forty-five children to a classroom

  • Pittwater drilled boys daily and sent them on survival weekends

  • "Progressive Wahroonga taught the boys sewing and the teachers wore saris"

  • "Masada was the nearest thing to an American school"

Eventually some Australians recommend the “avant-garde” Sydenham.

From there the book is about her settling in, if that is how to describe it into her life in Australia. 

Eventually after looking around Ethel finds a house, it’s a battle-axe block in Vaulcluse.

81a Kurrakirri Avenue, Vaucluse to be exact. 

Australia Square, Sydney (1970). File:70-783 Australia Square Sydney 1970 (51219510295).jpg. (2023, June 3). Wikimedia Commons. Retrieved 05:43, June 9, 2023 from link. Author: wilford peloquin

It doesn’t exist. Googling it was the first thing I did when I saw it written in the form of a letter addressed to Ethel. The road doesn’t even exist disappointingly.

But there’s enough detail about the house, the area and the people around that it definitely existed somewhere in Vaucluse.

Ethel goes on a hunt for tennis courts, finding them all booked out, but does eventually find somewhere to play.

The most interesting thing is that in these games the women going are going to mostly socialise, the tennis is just a framing for them to do so.

At the break they bring out the tea, scones, jam and cakes etc.

Meanwhile Ethel sits to the side with her yogurt, fruit and vegetables. 

This is one of the interesting insights in the book from a contemporary reader looking back. It was very modern of Ethel, being 39-40. She was fit, eating healthily (she even laments later when she hurts her back and starts on the valium) that she was putting on weight.

When she speaks to her neighbour (Kath) who sits by the pool tanning and smoking, Kath muses of herself that she needs to go on a diet for the coming season of socialising with her husband.

Ethel corrects her and says she can’t just diet she needs to exercise, something Kath seems surprised by the even concept of.

Again it’s this little insight into Ethel, that kinda reveals a lot.

Kings Cross, Sydney (1970). File:70-631 Kings Cross, Sydney 1970 (51218652878).jpg. (2023, June 3). Wikimedia Commons. Retrieved 05:45, June 9, 2023 from link. Author: wilford peloquin

She’s focused on her health, and when she injures herself even the doctors remark on how good she looks for 40, that she wasn’t one the “wrinkles” as Ethel describes the women of similar age to her that have been in the sun.

She didn’t have any cancers “burned off” as those of the other wives of the company men have. 

Ethel laments the lack of a PTA (Parents and Teachers Association) as that was where she did a lot of socialising and work. Instead she has to work in the tuckshop along with the other well off ladies who arrive in Mercedes, Volvos and Jaguars.

One of the people (or rather one of the kids her child meets) invites him to a birthday, their father’s name is Sir Whitlam Malcomb, which is definitely a made up name. Ethel describes him as newspaper, magazine and television tycoon.

I’m wondering if this was Kerry Packer?

There’s not that many newspaper, magazine and television tycoons who’d be around in 1970s Sydney.

Their house on Kurrakirri Avenue gets burgled at least four times, and while they do install an alarm it doesn’t really deter people. 

By the end of her two years also her Mini gets stolen.

If this is true, and it’d be weird for her to add in this to colour up her story, I can appreciate the trauma she feels of this frequently happening.

They go on a holiday to Alice Springs, there Ethel observes it looks like California because it was built for the American missile base. She sees her first “real” (ie American) supermarket. 

There’s air conditioning here and there.

During this trip Ethel does wonder some questions regarding "Aboriginal peoples", whom she and her children wanted to see. They’re told if they want to see them in their “natural state” they would need to go to Arnhem Land.

Uluru, 1969. (Couldn’t find any 1970 images)

File:69-1263 Ayers Rock, Australia 1969 (51215930168).jpg. (2023, June 2). Wikimedia Commons. Retrieved 05:56, June 9, 2023 from link. Author: wilford peloquin

They visit a cattle station in Ross River, they have an adventure to get to Uluru (or Ayres Rock / the Rock as Ethel describes it).

Out of everything in this book chapter 20 detailing her trip is possibly the most detailed. It’s got the most observations packed in, and if I’m honest I skimmed it before re-reading it while preparing to write this up.

In the end Ethel doesn’t feel a lot for Australia, when asked when she returns to the US was she glad they had done it?

The answer was yes, because it made her more of a patriot, made her appreciate all the advancements and everything that USA had. 

It’s…an interesting observation and I can sort of see why this book annoyed a lot of people who read it.

Back cover of ‘Kangaroo in my Kitchen’ by Ethel Sloan

I do kinda feel for Ethel, I think people who read this book ignored the trauma and anxiety she felt moving to Australia without a lot of assistance. Assistance the company had promised her and her husband which didn’t materialise. And all without much of a safety net. 

Information availability is this concept I keep thinking of when musing on this book. 

That she didn’t have a lot of easy available information to access to salve some of these concerns she had. Just an out of date World Book Encyclopedia (from probably 1968 with maybe a year in review update for 1969) along with a mix of local newspapers and various people’s opinions. 

Which I guess was what was available then.

I think it’s a great insight into one person’s experience.

I don’t know why it was published or how she got it published, but it’s been preserved as having been published.

It’s a decent enough read, some insightful observations and you can read it in a short afternoon.

Retail experiences late-2013

I was going to post a couple of individuals posts concerning a few retail experiences I’ve had of late but thought I’d wrap them all into one post as none of them really met the threshold I have for being long enough to post.

Like others at this time of year I’ve been shopping for gifts and in general just out and about shopping and had a few mostly negative experiences. The positive ones have just been things by the way side, those no one needs to hear about, as a positive experience, unless it’s something really exceptional isn’t notable. A positive experience is just a...a non-event.
A negative one makes you change your decisions.


Retail experience #1 - Shaver Shop

I went into the Shaver Shop earlier this week with the intention of buying a product for which this shop is named.

I’d done my research online, actually, I hadn’t as reviews for shavers come down to a personal choice and a decision in general between Braun and Philips for the most part. Then there’s the unhelpful forums where people say ‘this doesn’t answer your question, but why don’t you just use a razor?’, that’s not helpful mate.

I had a question and an intention.

One of the guys who works in the shop wandered over within at least 5 seconds of me walking into the shop, so no time for me to browse, though I didn’t really need to.
Then he opened his mouth.
Bah.
Smoker’s breath.
Intense smoker’s breath like wading through second hand smoke when he was speaking to me.

I don’t begrudge someone deciding to have a cigarette. I don’t actually care what they do, as long as I don’t have to walk through second hand smoke to get anywhere, what people choose to poison their bodies with is not my concern.

However, if you’re in the retail industry, chew a mind or something. Especially if you’re wanting to project a keen and helpful air and approaching customers quickly when they enter your shop. Chew a mint, use some breath freshener, do something.

I did try to power through. I asked my question (concerning the “cleaning station” that some shavers have and if it’s worth it), he did answer my question honestly, without trying to push me towards it (as those with the “cleaning station” are the most expensive).

I considered remaining, to continue to power through and purchase the product I was there to buy, but it just wasn’t worth the unpleasantness caused from the smell of smoke emanating from him.

I will likely take my business elsewhere, maybe to the quite useless and almost incompetent Myer who never seem to have staff to help you. Perhaps The Good Guys stocks what I want, or maybe it will mean a return the the den of low false ceilings and fluorescent lighting that is Harvey Norman, I will just have to make sure I check the price online first and be prepared for them not to try and charge me a different price from that.



Retail experience #2 - Culture Kings Melbourne

Just slightly too loud.

I went into Culture Kings in Melbourne during this past week.

I could possibly be outside their target market, I went in there to indulge my interest in shoes, amongst other things. I also find the clothing range they, and similar shops have to be comfortable and practical.
Mostly because the ‘street-style’ genre of clothing has lots of pockets, is easy and comfortable to wear and more or less practical for my day to day life.

The music inside was just slightly too loud.

I did consider asking to try a pair of shoes on, or rather ask them to find my size. But didn’t, mostly because the music was just slightly too loud making it just slightly unpleasant to be in there.

I’m not being grumpy or “old”, well not deliberately. But the music was of a loudness that, were you to attempt to talk it was above that of a raised voice and edging towards shouting.
I can deal with loud music, hell, I’ve stood next to speaker stacks when at some gigs. But, in a retail environment, I think there needs to be a balance between creating an ambiance for the space and it being over powering.

From visiting Culture Kings today it made me not to want to go in there again and instead visit places like; Fast Times Skateboarding, Blindside Skateboarding and other more shoe-based shops like Platypus and Hype DC, and even to an alternate extent General Pants Co and places like that.


Retail experience #3 - Il Papiro

I’d often walked past Il Papiro in the past, and this year I wanted to buy a notebook / journal as a late gift of a birthday present for myself.

I asked 2 questions of the lady in the shop, neither I thought were particularly odd questions and neither I thought odd nor worthy of getting shitty with me for.

I went into Il Papiro to get a refillable notebook, because I write and scribble notes quite a bit, and if I am to spent $100 or so on a leather bound notebook then I would want to be able to take the guts of it out and put more paper into it.

The first question was ‘which of these notebooks are lined?’, as in which of these have lined paper? That’s not an unreasonable question, I thought and that was answered simply and finely.
I had a look and couldn’t quite find the one I wanted, but was willing to make a compromise on one or two, they were seem to recall  $76 and $96.

Then I asked what was the fateful question which made the lady get quite curt and uppity with me. I asked, what I thought was a reasonable question ‘are these notebooks refillable?’.
No. Was the answer. ‘we’re a bookbinding and paper business, we don’t do refillable notebooks. It’s because there’s the finery of bookbinding with the materials...’. I’ve added the ellipsis in there as I don’t recall any further of her answer to the question, the tone was quite clear.

Okay, fine.
I understand that, the tone and curt nature of the answer not so much.
I didn’t buy my notebook in there.

Now, looking at Il Papiro’s website the front page states:

In the heart of Melbourne's laneways, you will discover a little paper shop. Reminicent (sic) of a time gone by, its shelves are full of leather journals, marbled photo albums, watermarked writing papers, wax seals, inks and quills - all handcrafted in our Florentine work shops, according to traditional techniques.

If your business is paper, then it is not out of the question that you might sell paper for a journal. Also journals that can take some of your paper, over and over again.

After some searching online I did find for myself a notebook that did suit my needs and idea of a notebook that I was looking for. A French-made refillable notebook from a company called La Compagnie du Kraft. Everything including the paper is French made. I didn’t buy the notebook from the company’s website as the postage was something of a killer with the notebook costing €45 from La Compagnie du Kraft’s site and then there was another €50+ on top for postage to Australia which brought the approximate total to around $137 AUD (there were 3 different postage prices; 2 by Fedex and 1 by UPS). Instead I bought it from Kaufmann Mercantile, a US-based website, which had the journal for $70.40 AUD (which is $1.88 AUD more than the French site), whilst the postage was $32.20 AUD. Bringing the total to $102.60 AUD. Their site incidentally went to AUD and announced that it would ship to Australia, La Compagnie du Kraft’s site was a little more oblique about shipping and while their site is available in both English and French their address entry form is only in French, requiring a little visit to Google Translate as my high school French has mostly deserted me.


On a final note, I did look on Australia-based websites for a leather refillable notebook, but did not find one that completely suited what I was looking for. I found one or two that was sort of what I was looking for on NoteMaker.com.au but none that I found on there were exactly what I was looking for. I also, once I had found La Compagnie du Kraft’s notebook did attempt to find it available on an Australian site, the store finder on La Compagnie du Kraft’s site did list an Australian website someplace. However they only stocked a notebook with a paper cover rather than the leather one I was looking for.

Australia spied on Luxembourg and Iceland Prime Ministers

No.
Not really.

That would be surprising.
That Australia spied on the Indonesian President isn’t remotely surprising. It’s odd that people are reacting as though it is.

Australia has intelligence agencies. We have the Australian Secret Intelligence Service (ASIS) and the Australian Signals Directorate (ASD, though they were formally known as the Defence Signal Directorate (DSD)).
Intelligence agencies collect intelligence or “spy”.

The Australian Signals Directorate even has a catch phrase under their title "Reveal Their Secrets - Protect Our Own”. Which is a fairly interesting catch phrase. ASIS doesn’t it just says “Australia’s overseas secret intelligence collection agency”.

The basic difference between them is the ASD is a Defence organisation and ASIS isn’t. Which would likely explain the slightly more aggressive "Reveal Their Secrets - Protect Our Own" summary of what they do.

Looking at the overviews of what they do provided on ASIS and ASD’s websites they explain what they do, in no really clear terms.

ASIS site says:
“ASIS's primary goal is to obtain and distribute secret intelligence about the capabilities, intentions and activities of individuals or organisations outside Australia, which may impact on Australia's interests and the well-being of its citizens.”

While ASD’s site throws a few more terms in there:
“The Australian Signals Directorate (ASD) is an intelligence agency in the Australian Government Department of Defence, with its headquarters in Canberra.

Our mission, ‘Reveal their secrets, protect our own’, accurately summarises our role. ASD:

  • collects and analyses foreign signals intelligence, known as Sigint
  • provides advice and assistance on information and communications security, known as InfoSec.”

What they do should come as no surprise.
They’re intelligence agencies, they spy, they gather information.
They protect Australia’s interests.
That Australia has spied on Indonesia should be no surprise. If it’s revealed that we’ve spied on other countries in the Asia Pacific it shouldn’t be a surprise either.

However if it comes out that ASIS or ASD have been spying on Jean-Claude Juncker (Prime Minister of Luxembourg) or Sigmundur Davíð Gunnlaugsson (Prime Minister of Iceland) then I will be surprised.

Also, a little bit intrigued.

Girt - The Unauthorised History of Australia review

“Australia owes its existence to tea, tax evasion, criminals and cannabis. With these four sturdy pillars as its foundation, what could possibly go wrong?”Girt - The Unauthorised History of Australia By David Hunt, pg.96

This book grabbed my attention because of its title Girt. As the name of this blog shows it’s a word a rather like and think should be used more often. Surrounded is such a long word and in many (fine a few) situations girt could be used. Of course, then to anyone outside of Australia you’d need to explain to them what “girt” means, but language should be used, it’s in the Australian anthem and should be used in more places than just “Advance Australia Fair”.

I was quite surprised by Girt, by its humour and what I learnt from it.
In short it makes early Australian history funny and interesting via the characters of history.

The tone of Girt is relatively light and the footnotes make it slightly comedic. The footnotes that are on almost every page are a sort of commentary of the text itself.

Girt is also fully indexed, which was something of a surprise that it was when I reached the end. So I imagine that university students when needing something to liven up an essay about Australian history can turn to Girt to fill up their reference list.

Girt was incredibly easy to read, with each chapter easily flowing into the next and everything told in vivid and amusing detail.
From Girt I have learnt the etymology of the word ‘grog’, who Trim was and that Bligh was a bastard who no one liked.

There are excerpts from letters throughout the book that help further illustrate the people that it covers and illuminate their thoughts and psychology a bit more than the writer’s commentary provides.

Some of the history in Girt I recognised, having learnt it in the long since past history lessons in primary and high school, but Girt really brought to life the characters of Australia’s history. Whilst reading Girt I felt more like I knew the men (and occasionally women) of history that fill the book (and history) and that should anyone mention Macarthur, Bligh, Major Ross, Bass and Flinders or Macquarie something that I’ve read in Girt will be conjured in my memory.

I hope that David Hunt has plans afoot for a second volume continuing to look at Australia’s history, continuing on from where Girt finishes.

Kevin and Tony; a dinner in Russia

A small piece of fiction inspired by ABC News - Prime Minister Kevin Rudd considers taking Opposition Leader Tony Abbott to G20 talks in Russia

“Well, isn’t this nice.” Kevin smiled over at his dining companion with whom he’d shared a plane, though they hadn’t been within the same section of the plane. Certain things needed to be kept from the man opposite.

Tony looked over the menu at the insufferable man sitting opposite him. They were within one of the hotel’s restaurant rooms, with only their personal staff near by should they be needed. A break in the G20 meetings and away from the press.

“Would you like me to order the wine Tony?” Kevin asked taking a sip of the sparkling water that had already been left on the table.

Tony glanced over at the Prime Minister who beamed back at him with that insufferable smile.
“No, thank you, I’m merely reading through this thoroughly.” The PM smiled and continued to casually gaze at his own menu.
“Of course, I didn’t mean to rush you Tony.” He was still smiling.
Tony reached into his pocket to remove his glasses, not something he usually did, but he was damned sure not going to allow the PM to choose the wine. Not for him.
The PM’s public relations team would spin any minor move he made while here.

Kevin looked over the menu, with one eye on the leader of the opposition and a small portion of his concentration on one of his assistants who was just within his vision standing in the background of the room. A PM’s work was never done, but he could allow himself a small amount of ‘down time’ to put his feet up and have a good meal. Even if that meal was with the leader of the opposition.

Kevin admitted that he had been surprised Tony had accepted and come himself, in those early days, before he’d re-established his ministry he’d thrown out a lot of things to the media. They were always wanting to strip the leaves from a gum tree like a hungry koala, he thought he’d give them something to chew on.
That Tony had agreed to come and not send Julie had been interesting in itself.
Tony still hadn’t chosen a wine, but he had decided to put on his glasses.
Kevin resisted the urge to grab the menu out of the opposition leader’s hands and make the decision for him.
Indecisiveness was his problem. Couldn’t even choose a wine.
Although there were a good range to choose from, he wondered what Tony would choose, if he could manage a decision.

--

Their orders taken and a bottle of wine sitting in an ice bucket between them Kevin mused what to discuss with Tony. This was the first of a few times they would be seen together, this time without the cameras. It had been something of an accident that they were eating together at all. But a good opportunity he thought to take and grab.
It did leave something of a problem though, speaking with the man who wanted his job.

Tony watched the PM sip the wine, which he’d chosen, the PM seemed smugly pleased with his choice.
They had sat in silence since their orders had been taken. The silence was irritating, even more so that the PM, Kevin Rudd seemed almost happy enjoying the wine he’d chosen and had made no attempt to begin a conversation.

Kevin sipped the wine, but swallowed very little, just enough to wet his lips. He had tasted the wine and it was a rather good choice made by Tony. He would, however have chose something a little less sharp, something fruity and mellow, there had been several wines fitting those descriptions. Tony it seemed had gone for something rather more different, almost opposite to what he would have chose. Kevin savoured that amusement internally and continued to watch Tony, his assistant and the room around them.

Their first course had been taken away and now once again they were sat in silence.
Kevin decided to break the prevailing silence, an act that seemed to surprise those who weren’t sitting, waiting. “It’s interesting that we don’t do this more often.” He said, wetting his lips on the wine glass again.
Tony looked at him, surprised with a little bit of contempt, it was a rather interesting mixture on the opposition leader’s face.
“Would you have anything to say if we met more often?” He challenged him.
“I don’t know Tony” He paused to smile, briefly. “This outing has been quite good. We shouldn’t let out political differences divide us. Surely we can share a drink and meal?” Kevin asked. Tony looked surprised beyond belief, at least Kevin hoped it was surprise. His assist also looked concerned.

Tony looked over at the PM who was suggesting they have more of these....these encounters. He resisted the urge to ask if the PM was quite sane, he already knew the answer the question.
“I’m sure we could share a meal” He paused. “But I am often far too busy to share a simple casual meal, something I would prefer to do with my wife, rather than you.”
He smiled and raised his drink. “Quite right Tony, we shouldn’t be wining and dining together when we’re in Canberra. We’ll put this down as a special treat. A meal together as leaders.”
Tony stared over at the PM and nodded meeting his raised glass.

--

Kevin allowed Tony to leave the restaurant first, out of which he’d rushed, not to the toilet, which by his speed could be the only other option. The first of course was the waiting press. He decided to take a more casual walk, let the press know he was ready to speak to them on serious issues, not what they had chosen for wine or which of the tasting plates of deserts they’d each had that they’d found palatable.
Tony was already talking about a slew of topics but as he walked over to another area where the press was waiting it was obvious the press still cared who was Prime Minister of Australia and who had merely dined with him.

Australian Day and Australia for me

I don’t really know what makes me Australian, I certainly don’t presume what makes you Australian (or whatever other nationality / cultural identity).

As Australia Day comes up people and newspapers / news organisations start to think on what it means to be Australian.

I don’t beat the “I’m Australian” drum extremely loudly, I’m not one for tattoos, I don’t have a Southern Cross on my car.
But I do have confidence in Australia, there is not another country that I would want to be a citizen of. I would not move to another country on a whim or an offer.

I think we are lucky, that Australia was settled when it was, that we sometimes do not acknowledge how fortunate it is that Australia became what it is, rather than what it could have become.

1901, Federation. Australia turned from a colony of six states into one nation and became more or less what we have today (give or take a territory or two). This happened on the 1st January 1901.
Which makes it a little problematic as a day of celebration.

So that’s not Australia Day, 26th January was in the past known as “Landing Day” or “Foundation Day”, on 26th January 1788 Captain Arthur Phillip rowed ashore at Sydney Cove with a few dozen men and took possession of the land in the name of King George III.
There he raised the Union Jack as a symbol of the British occupation of the eastern half of the what became known as Australia that had been claimed by Captain James Cook on 22nd August 1770.

History lesson over and back to the present.
Australia is a prosperous country, part of that is from, digging stuff out of the ground and then selling it to other countries. But it has kept us prosperous.
We have had a stable government one that doesn’t defer to or be ruled by religion or any other silly thing like that.

Stability and freedom, I think is part of what makes Australia for me. We have a huge country, that for some of the population only know from the coasts and the cities. The interior is something on a map, the bush something that is on the news when there is a disaster. But it’s there, should we want to explore it and it’s huge.

On Australia Day I will, like thousands of others will have a barbecue very probably with family. There will be lamb chops and sausages on said barbecue.
I’m not sure if anyone will must on Captain Arthur Phillip, or James Cook, or the concept of “Invasion Day” though I’m sure the news media will mention one of the three.

But I might raise a glass or bottle of something fizzy and possibly alcoholic and toast Captain Phillip, Edmund Barton and the thousands of other people who created the country we have today.