Some mornings, sitting on the jetty with my first cup of tea, I feel like "Storm Boy", as I watch the pelicans paddle past "Riverbend". This morning, one of them looked almost like Mr Percival. I rushed inside to get the camera, but by the time I had come back outside, he and his companion had already leisurely paddled upriver.
Anyway, it was time for the Nelligen Village Markets, where gullible visitors from Canberra are always ready to swap a few dollars for stuff the locals no longer want, and the locals swap gossip with other locals.
With one eye on the book stall and one ear tuned to the local gossip, I saw books that even the recyclers had refused to pulp and heard of locals who had died and others who had sold up and left. I also met a woman and her pregnant daughter who would give birth soon and hoped the father-to-be would be out of jail in February for the happy event.
There wasn't much buying going on, so to help things along, I bought a pack of Christmas cards before we, too, will be forced to rename them. It has happened at Kaimhill School in Aberdeen in Scotland. We're not there yet - perhaps "Summer Cards" doesn't sound all that catchy - but our own multicultural and multi-faith mass migration is going so well that we now also need armed response anti-terrorism units in Sydney.
If you import the third world, you become the third world.
