Whether it's pulling a plow or feeding a cow or grubbing out an old treestump, give me a red plastic chair and I feel at home anywhere. Of course, the meaning of this is lost on those who were not among the chosen few that built the Bougainville Copper Mine back in the 1970s.
Back then the only creature comfort outside our 'donga' was a red plastic chair which we took everywhere: on the back of a ute, to the outdoor picture show, to the "boozer", to the beach; even when going to another donga, we took a carton of beer and our red plastic chair.
Life was so simple then when home was a red plastic chair. ☺
