Lamb to slaughter

"Is that a dorper, mate?"

"Yeah, mate."

"Good eating, then mate?"

"Yeah, mate."

Trailer tyre pumped, we hopped back into the ute, retrieved ice cold stubbies from the eski and proceeded to the Wodonga slaughter house where Jack skilfully reversed the trailer up to the race and we unloaded the 8 white hoggets and 1 black half-dorper lamb.

You'll have noted my casual use of farmyard language and the word "we". It would however be dishonest of me to let you think that I had played any useful part in getting to the top of a hill with a stunning view of sky and hills and bush and farmland; separating the hoggets from the alpaca ( the most delightfully gormless creature I have ever met); changing a trailer tyre or driving the Great Alpine Way of Victoria, The Place To Be. I didn't. Play a useful part. Jack and Councillor Ali did all of that. Ali in that magnificient red hat and green fly veil.

At the very last minute, however, I became a RUP (Really Useful Person). Seeing Cousin Jack struggling to complete the Killem Register with the blunt purple crayon provided, I whipped out my trusty pencil sharpener and did the necessary. That's how I earned the first stubby of the day. (Ja, the opening paragraph was full of lies; we didn't have an eski either).

Jack and Ali's house, perched on a hill in this beautiful Border district (border of NSW and Victoria, on the edge, I think, of the Murray Darling whatnot) is one of the most gut-satisfying buildings I have ever seen. It simply fits into it's environment and around it's occupants without a wrinkle. A double rainbow; roast lamb which (don't tell any of my Southern African friends) equalled the Karoo variety, and a double rainbow. How much further can one get from Sydney?

Speaking of which, it has just dawned on me that any reader might think that all I achieved in that Metropolis was a bad night's sleep, a visit to an art exhibition and a day at the beach. It was a bit more than that:

I saw

Magpies and Ibi, gulls and turquoise seas

Poofters and p'licemen trimming christmas trees

Turds on a toilet seat a spaniel in the park

A tramp with the DTs twins on a walk

Fat girls in mini skirts thin girls in tights

Tall ships, rusty ships and speedy river cats

Ventrolquist and church bell

Droning digi'doo

Blue skies, beef pies

Gilded kangaroo

Porky's night spot, Pleasure Done and Love Machine

Tawdry neon, sushi and French cuisine

Thai me up, Thai me down

All in Sidney town.

Swallows flutter in and out of the 97 nests in Clare and Rod's eaves here on the outskirts of Yackandandah, the clouds grow heavier with promise of more rain. Much needed rain in this drought and fire-ridden territory. It's a peaceful morning.

Meetings with the Pockely cuzzes have been few and far between over the past 40 years, but they are good. Relatively speaking, I'm a very lucky man.