Batemans Bay is like any other small town in Australia: it has one butcher, two barbers, fifteen real estate agents (yes, FIFTEEN! - I counted them) and an equal number of coffee shops, which tells you something about their profit margins.
When I came out in the 1960s - not OUT; I mean, when I came out to Australia - we were a nation of tea-trinkers, and not just any tea, but BUSHELLS. A cup of tea, a Bex and a good lie down fixed everything.
And in every workplace there were whole armies of friendly tea-ladies which have gone as have the tea trolleys and the lino and the formica.
If you wanted a cup of coffee, there was one kind: INTERNATIONAL ROAST. It came in tins so large that by the time you reached the bottom, the coffee powder had become the consistency of concrete.
And there were only two choices: with or without, and sugar added from one of those sugar shakers that always poured the same amount.
If you had asked for anything else, you would have raised serious questions about your sexuality, so what is it with today's espressos, cappuccinos, macchiatos, ristrettos, and café au laits? And why can we no longer cross the road without holding one of them in our hands?
