Mitchell I did fetch The Mr his dinner, afterall he did the hunting and gathering so all is fair I guess.

During dinner he happened to ask, so when do we have the revolution? You see his great, great Grandad was the last surviving soldier of the American revolution and now his tummy is full he is keen to continue the family legacy!

So it is zipped mouth or cannons to end this harping by the poms? Never mind the guilt trips that would make Everyone Loves Raymond's mom look pleasant!

Gees Missus! I'm not used to all this talking back. Maybe hubby should give yous a sound thrashing! Now we've both gotta shut up for 24hrs!
But seriously.
I'm a reformed pom; been here since I was 10--was a ten pounder too!
The thing is dear, we're spoiled in this 'ere country, and very nice 'tis too! But it doesn't do to pretend like there's any merit in it. Some people's is just born lucky, and we're the arsiest on the planet---hitherto. But it can't last, sooner or later the sheet's got to be balanced. Silly buggers flashing their money about like they earned it is askin' fer trouble. We're part of the British empire, only the empire's testicles has shrunk back inside. And where does that leave us? In the middle of bloody Asia mate! treating the abo's and the locals like sh!t! Did you see Rudd on the tele tonight? Did you read between the lines? He wants population growth because he knows damn well we're going to need the economic and military fire power to 'old on to the farm. It was plain as day! It's not really about keeping you and the ol' man comfortable in your old age--sorry to disappoint. These Christians are a worldly lot when it comes down to it, you know.
All the bullsh!t on Australia Day is like the Mauri's doin' the Haka, it doesn't fool anyone. Frankly it's embarrassing! At best, it throws the Mongols into confusion. They look at each other an' scratch their bony heads--discombobulated. "Huh?" they say. But it's unlikely a nation of marshmallows can face-off the yellow peril for long.
It's a changing world, Missus, and Rudd hopes there'll be strength in numbers! Meanwhile, keep on cheering--eventually you'll have to cut and run, but it's been a good innings with more than a fair share of luck!
Now, how about a cup of tea dear, and a foot massage, I think?

I know I'm going to sound like a walking contradiction but here goes.

My Australia Day activities use to consist of sailing in the Melbourne to Geelong yacht race (a beauty if it isn't on the nose) then partying away till the wee hours trying to forget about the cracked lips and attempting to beat the severe dehydration with beer (never really works).

Family responsibilities have forced an admittedly welcome change and for a number of years we have made our way to the in-law's sheep farm, ate of a fresh kill, drank a little more wine than beer (by tradition these have to be Coopers), then read Banjo poems after desert.

This year we had the festivities for about 20 at our place and the meat was Turkey, although consensus deemed it fitting in its own way, even just for its name.

A recent genealogy search has uncovered three more relatives of my wife who, as ANZACs fought in France in WW1, two of whom remain buried there. They were remembered with raised glasses before the main meal but with my wife's father (who was present) probably having relatives fighting on the other side the toast was without fuss adapted to include all those fallen in war. It was only later that it struck me as a particularly Australian think to do.

The open readings of Banjo are always a hit. Mulga Bill's Bicycle still gets a laugh, the pathos of The Pearl Diver is acknowledged, The Man from Ironbark is a delight and by tradition the second half of each line is left for the audience to complete, while The Man from Snowy River is given due reverence being passed around to all those willing to contribute a chapter.

Cont

Cont

However we have yet to strike out an Australian flag on Australia Day.

It just doesn't seem to have been deemed to be necessary. For me personally though, part of the reason is that directly after Cronulla I considered the flag somewhat tainted. I remembered cringing the following ANZAC Day when I saw one youth with it draped around his shoulders as we made our way to the dawn service at the shrine in Melbourne, and was thankful there appeared to be few others taking that liberty (could have been a general Melbourne reticence).

This year was the first since the riots where I have felt comfortable seeing the flag flown from cars and draped from fences, and I'm even chilling out about the cape thing. I think I have realised that there are many ways to celebrate our national day. I also feel I am retrieving some lost pride in my country and while there are many things to grind my teeth over about Mr Rudd, the apology to the Stolen Generations has helped heal my hopefully temporary disaffection with our country's banner.

I still don't think I will be flying one soon but if one of the youngsters were to see fit to strike the flag at the family's next gathering a year from now then that's fine by me.