Letter from David McMahon-Winter
The long walk when the bus would drop us off outside of Snettisham to trek to Ingoldisthorpe seemed to be an unthinkable distance especially when it was raining or snowing and when on a summer Saturday afternoon one said that you were going to walk along the beach from Heacham to Hunstanton and back it was akin to going on safari. Then I came to Australia! Here distance is vast and comments like "well sport, I think I'll go and visit the neighbours, it’s a couple of hours drive or so I'll stay overnight”, are commonplace and towns can be hundreds of kilometres apart. I'm in one of the more 'densely populated ' areas and after you leave our little town population 1200, it’s only 60 kilometers to the next town. My son lives in Perth which is 3000 kilometers away, that’s about the same distance as London to Moscow or Hammerfest, or Ankara or even Reykjavik .My son says "Drop over for a couple of days" and I bloody well might because Australia's like that.
Perhaps that why as the saying goes, they’re a weird mob. not as weird as when I arrived 33 years ago but still WEIRD. I would like to give you an example. In 1970 I was in the Northern Territory and I was working for a family who entertained the Northern Territory Administrator. And he related a tale of a pub on the road from Darwin to the Alice .It was run by a little old lady who was very mean with the shekels The refrigeration which was powered by a diesel generator was only put on for an hour in the morning and with the temperature in the high 30s (on a cool day) one had to be early to get a cold beer. It so happened that one hot afternoon the Northern Territory Administrator was travelling to Tennent Creek and his Party stopped at the pub for refreshments. They were aware of the beer being a little on the warm side so they opted for TEA! Well old Ma had never had anyone ask for tea in her pub before but she found an assortment of old cracked cups brewed a pot of tea which she plonked on the table along with a dirty bag of sugar and a huge spoon. One of the aides asked for milk to put in the tea and old ma scratched her grey head, muttered some common Aussie words relating to his birth status and shuffled into the kitchen where in full view of the distinguished party picked up the cats bowl and emptied the milk from it into a beer jug and delivered it to the aide. One of the great characters of Australia who are sadly fast disappearing.
In my travels and work I have met and had the privilege to know many such characters and maybe the characters that I knew at St.Michael’s unknowingly prepared me for a life among the Strange and Wonderful. So dear Michaelian’s I salute you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
As a postscript.... If you plan to visit Australia's beautiful Northern Territory don't worry Ma's old Pub is long gone and a world class 5 star tourist resort stands in its place. But if you order tea, DON’T ASK FOR MILK...just in case.
David McMahon Winter (in the Antipodes)
