A Very Aussie Christmas And The Lindt Seige
Without Prejudice
I love this photo of an advertisement from Optus, Yes.
It says everything about an Aussie Christmas to me. The sun, sea, sand and sky. The Blue Heeler with antlers on who is probably called Red or Boof. The Hills Hoist washing line with the one Christmas Stocking on it. Candy, Gingerbread, and even though the house could be edible, It wouldn't matter if it wasn't. The position of it is something I am drooling over.
Imagine that peace and quiet. Imagine having the beach all to yourself. How quickly your washing would dry as warm, gentle Summer breezes blow off the waves. At night you could sit as freighters slide silently by, like slippery black eels in the night. Their destination unknown.
And on a clear night, laying backwards you could see thousands of stars in the velvet black sky and dream.
Or realise how infinitesimally small we all are really and how vast the Universe is.
It says Freedom, good times, it says Australia.
You can walk in the pristine sand and write H.E.L.P. Or the name of your lover with a sharp pointy stick. Or turn not so great cartwheels, wobbly handstands, try and do a very slow headstand and feel the blood rush to your head. Renewing your blood flow to the brain and making you laugh at your own ineptness.
My parents came to Australia with a sick oldest son and 4 other very small children. I was two and cannot remember one thing about my birth place, Scotland. But I remember the wondrous new place, Australia from day one. Looking out at our new home from a Hostel bus window. I was dazzled at the warmth and brightness of the sun. It is my first ever memory and I was 2 and 2 months.
My parents never looked back. They accepted their new home, warts and all. As far as they were concerned they were proud to be British but their children were Australians. From day one of landing. As far as they were concerned we did not need Australian Citizenship, we were children of the Commonwealth, fleeing a grey post war Britain.
They were grateful to be accepted. (Well, not all the time as they were branded Poms, called dagoes, and were told they talked funny.) My Mother with an upper class accent when she answered the phone. We called it her RAF voice. And Dad with his soft Edinburgh burr. We didn't know we were " poverty struck and Parish damned" until later.
But we are Australians, my sibs and I. And never have I felt as proud to be an Aussie than in the aftermath of the terrible Lindt Seige in Sydney. That heroes emerge against evil. That the whole of Australia is in shock and is voicing their concerns, their kindness. We are a free nation, thank God, we live in a beautiful country, and that 80% of people are good. Good things will come out of this tragedy and we will move forward as a Nation. We will not be beaten
I love this photo of an advertisement from Optus, Yes.
It says everything about an Aussie Christmas to me. The sun, sea, sand and sky. The Blue Heeler with antlers on who is probably called Red or Boof. The Hills Hoist washing line with the one Christmas Stocking on it. Candy, Gingerbread, and even though the house could be edible, It wouldn't matter if it wasn't. The position of it is something I am drooling over.
Imagine that peace and quiet. Imagine having the beach all to yourself. How quickly your washing would dry as warm, gentle Summer breezes blow off the waves. At night you could sit as freighters slide silently by, like slippery black eels in the night. Their destination unknown.
And on a clear night, laying backwards you could see thousands of stars in the velvet black sky and dream.
Or realise how infinitesimally small we all are really and how vast the Universe is.
It says Freedom, good times, it says Australia.
You can walk in the pristine sand and write H.E.L.P. Or the name of your lover with a sharp pointy stick. Or turn not so great cartwheels, wobbly handstands, try and do a very slow headstand and feel the blood rush to your head. Renewing your blood flow to the brain and making you laugh at your own ineptness.
My parents came to Australia with a sick oldest son and 4 other very small children. I was two and cannot remember one thing about my birth place, Scotland. But I remember the wondrous new place, Australia from day one. Looking out at our new home from a Hostel bus window. I was dazzled at the warmth and brightness of the sun. It is my first ever memory and I was 2 and 2 months.
My parents never looked back. They accepted their new home, warts and all. As far as they were concerned they were proud to be British but their children were Australians. From day one of landing. As far as they were concerned we did not need Australian Citizenship, we were children of the Commonwealth, fleeing a grey post war Britain.
They were grateful to be accepted. (Well, not all the time as they were branded Poms, called dagoes, and were told they talked funny.) My Mother with an upper class accent when she answered the phone. We called it her RAF voice. And Dad with his soft Edinburgh burr. We didn't know we were " poverty struck and Parish damned" until later.
But we are Australians, my sibs and I. And never have I felt as proud to be an Aussie than in the aftermath of the terrible Lindt Seige in Sydney. That heroes emerge against evil. That the whole of Australia is in shock and is voicing their concerns, their kindness. We are a free nation, thank God, we live in a beautiful country, and that 80% of people are good. Good things will come out of this tragedy and we will move forward as a Nation. We will not be beaten
