For Australia Day 2024, we’re doing things backwards.
My 2024 allocation is Murray Bridge; we South Australians all know Murray Bridge. It is a pioneer landmark town where the main town road crosses the river on a beaut old bridge, the Murray Bridge. Everyone’s been over it and many under it since the1800s.But...if you say you’re heading to MB for your holidays, people will probably guffaw. It’s been known as a tough town. Few would cite it as a "destination". It’s a place you pass through.
Should it be?
So, here's the blog. If it seems long, it is only to give it chronology in one hit, since blogger is a bit perverse like that.
Most significantly, Murray Bridge is Ngarrindjeri country and its First Nations name is Pomberbuk. Ngarrindjeri have dwelt along the river for thousands of years.
Saturday 20th January
And off up the freeway we skim. Destination is not Murray Bridge itself but the nearby Riverglen Marina and a moored houseboat called Ark-imedes.
I found it via booking.com as I was exploring the possibilities for MB as a holiday destination.We find the marina gate with Ark-imides keys in a locked box outside high, secure fencing. Heavens. It is a securely fenced off location.
Therein, with struggling green lawns on the shore, myriad houseboats abound. The Ark is one of the smallest houseboats moored here, it turns out, and quite unremarkable from the shore. But, over the wobbly gangplank it opens up to reveal a totally chic, modern home for two. Yes, it is accommodation just for two. No kids. No pets.
It features two giant basket hanging egg chairs on the deck out front looking onto a very wide section of the mighty old river. It’s a pea soup greenish brown old waterway.
We have booked two nights here.
Just to give a taste of what the Murray Bridge region has to offer.
Across the water, there is a rural landscape. It is all so beautiful that even the giant electricity pylon out there stands as a beauty, a skeletal Carnivale figure with her flared skirt.
I sink into one of the egg chairs and begin a reverie which is to consume many blissful hours. This is not like me. It is like the river. It is what the river does.
There is a strong wind. There’s a chop in the water. The houseboat rocks.
It is not hard to settle in. The Ark is exquisitely appointed with good luggage storage space well designated and artfully hidden behind the bed.
There is a brilliant woven hanging light with a dimmer to provide a safe night light for oldies such as us. There’s another low nightlight outside the bathroom. The lovely bathroom has a window to a soft willow world.
Bruce starts to cook dinner. The kitchen is beautifully equipped and it is not long before delicious scents waft out towards the river.
Three swans arrive. They look expectant. I take a photo. It’s not what they’re after. They swim away disdainfully.
Later, I discover the swan food, thoughtfully left in a labelled jar in the condiments drawer in the kitchen. Cornflakes.
There’s tinned corn for fishing, too. The swans don’t go hungry again. Swans are regular visitors to the assorted moored houseboats in the marina. There are ducks, too, and darling little Eurasian coots which are interesting birds in that they hate to fly. Over our time on the Ark, I become fascinated and charmed by these waterbirds.
Lolling at ease in my egg chair, birdwatching is a feast of fascination.
This is a very wide stretch of bending river.
When there are no watercraft, the fish make their presence felt, jumping in golden arcs from the water. Their splashes are a music all of their own. Occasionally, I hear a cow lowing from a distant pasture. Reverie,
Big sky. Big water. Big landscape.
I realise that I am whiling away hours here. I am totally in the moment, at one with the river. I realise that I have never ever let go of the busy business in my brain like this before. I am here, now…genuinely relaxed.
It is an experience in itself.
I beam out my gratitude to the Ark’s owners, Kristen and Shaun, for creating and sharing their piece of paradise.
Meanwhile, Bruce eschews the sun and the hot deck, reading and doing his NY Times crosswords inside. He is content.
And so 48 hours meander by. I enjoy the river traffic. The waterskiiers of varying skills. A clever wake rider. A boat playing music. Not even the jet skiiers annoy me. They are just wanton and silly with nowhere to go,
racing each other, splashing in spins…so pointless and mindless. Shallow people. We are equipped with two moored kayaks, but, nah…
I have a ‘Tiser review book and it is called The River. It is set on this very river.
Another serendipity.
We have gin and tonics with lots of fresh lime. Ice is in short supply. Oh, well. We are disinclined to get into the car to go hunting for ice. Make do.
Snack. Sip. See. Rock.
We talk about the river and its abundance of thriving nature, about the history of willlow trees and how useful they have been for houseboats, albeit an invasive species decried by many. I tell Bruce of the wooden boats people and of going on River Rambles on the historic Winsom Dora Basset with my friends, Bruce and Ros, of people falling in the river, of snakes swimming across the river...
One reason why I never cared to swim in the river, I say. Bruce is fascinated by the idea of the snakes so it is jaw-droppingly co-incidental that I see a young snake weaving its way through the water right towards us. Sleek swimmers are snakes. It goes straight under the deck of the Ark. We imagine it is seeking dry land on the grassy bank so we go out and door and look among the willow tree roots on the marina, No sign. A young tiger snake we later learn
By night two, our new ice has frozen. Aaah.
After our easy home-cooked dinners, we walk the marina which features a large inlet and we look at the diversity of moored craft, old and new, big and little… Lazy walks.
The little TV room is snug and the TV is excellent. So is the bed.
The Ark is a hard place to leave.
Monday 22 January
Checkout is 11. We enjoy a last Ark breakfast and languid shower before packing up and crossing the gangplank to the car. Aaah. This has been sublime. We shall return.
We have time to kill before checkin at The Bridgeport in Murray Bridge so we drive over to dear old Mannum.
Mannum Falls? How come I have never been there? We turn off to admire the most outstandingly dramatic landscapes of huge rounded, ancient boulders.
We take the low road to the Falls and there is a view point. There must be a high road. We continue on and there it is, leading to a carpark overlooking a great rocky valley and the great rocky outcrops which feature the falls. It is quite a trek to get there. We set out and immediately skip and slither on the dry stony path. Nup. This ain’t for oldies. We relish it as a fabulous view, instead.
Mannum is unchanged. It seems a lifetime since we were here, but it is still just dear Mannum. It has a stately history as an early river boat dock in the days when the river transported cargos on paddle steamers. We have oft recalled those days in books and film. Thinking of Max Fatchen, of course, and The River Kings. The town, built with a steep cliff-side backdrop, retains an historic character with some elegant colonial buildings along the main street - and nice shops and cafes with shady verandahs.
We roll into the pub and get a pleasant booth table on the upper deck, looking down over the lawn tables and picnickers and, of course, the wide old Murray,
B orders Caesar salad and I order Asian prawn salad. The prawns come out crumbed and deep fried fanned out over the salad. I am horrified. B generously swaps with me. It ain’t great food but it is nice here. We walk down to the river’s edge where there is a tall marker pole illustrating the heights of the floods.
Mannum is still recovering from the 2023 flood. We think that was bad. But 1956? Inconceivable.
Across the road, the handsome old Mannum Institute building is open.
In the museum room a large group of senior Mannum ladies were meeting around a long table. “It’s OK, come on in,” they urge as we stand tentative at the door. I’m glad we did. The photos and records of the town’s flood history are fascinating. One of the women leaves the table and comes to explain a few factors and show us the big laminated poster illustrating a century of rainfalls across the country. There were some nasty years long ago. Who knows what is coming? Riverside life will always hang on the whims of climate and the fates and flows upstream.
I cannot resist the Mannum hospital fundraiser shop right there on the way up hill back to the car. What an Aladdin’s cave of home preserves! Lots of knitting and simple quilting. Lots of good spirit and care. Delightful shop. I buy some lavender bags.
Back in Murray Bridge we check in to the Bridgeport. Our room on the fourth floor is just perfect. I had heard that the community was not happy about the redevelopment of the beloved old country Bridgeport hotel into huge five-star modern accommodation. But those developers got it right.
One side of the hotel offers balcony suites looking towards the river.The other to the town.
Our river view suite is, of course, facing the river. And there it is, a great greenish brown water passage between fields and farms and homes and marinas up stream. And the two mighty bridges - the recently revamped road bridge where the cars cross at respectful slow pace and the railway bridge, the wonderful ancient railway bridge where goods trains and the famous old Melbourne Overland Express cross the river . We have a nice little table and chairs on the balcony to enjoy this.
The room offers an ample sofa and coffee table and a good desk and work chair along with a lovely big
king bed and side tables. Good plugs for technical electrics.
Bathroom sink is black and raised and at the end of a generous cosmetics space with mirror on a big sliding wall …so the bathroom and living are linked…and, as it turns out, one can have the slider door open and enjoy a view of the river from the shower. Yes!
An opaque glass slider also encloses the shower and loo, both of which are spacious.
Then there’s the luggage bench, the safe and hanging space and kitchen strip with kettle space and, oh no, what??? Instant Nescafe sachets? Nescafe? Ugh. I have to run out and buy coffee bags instantly.
The coffee is the one and only shortcoming of this gorgeous hotel room which features also a quality TV with all the streaming options.
For our first night, B mixes our cocktails which we drink with snacks on the balcony, revelling in the view. I feel as if I have my own train set down there. I always wanted a train set.
We book a table downstairs for dinner, sitting outside on the patio and watching immense plates of naughty fried goodies being delivered to a table of fit young men.
We oldies are more prudent with our food. We share a starter of corn ribs which are very much the chic thing these days,,, after which I have crispy salmon which comes on puree cauli and melted fennel. It is sublime. I purr with pleasure,
Tuesday 23 Jan
Room service breakfast. Poached eggs. Bliss.
And down to the infinity pool on the first floor. Mountains of clean towels are waiting in the gym room. The water feels cold at first and then gorgeous. A brisk wind spits light spray. I am the only swimmer. Swim, gaze at view, swim, gaze at view. Look down into the street at people going into the shopping centre. Do some aquarobics.
There is a bar by the pool But, of course, not as a morning thing. Just another fun facility to this excellent hotel.
I have a lunch date with Peri Strathearn, editor of The Murray Bridge News. I’ve subscribed to his online paper since it began and have, like so many in the
media industry, been a hug admirer of Strathearn for this brave enterprise which sprang from a time of crisis in the rural media, not to mention covid.
A handsome young man turns up. A modest young man. He is a little embarrassed at my praise. Lunch service is slow since, at the eleventh hour, the kitchen realises it has no aubergine, which is what I had ordered for lunch. But it is all the more time for conversation and learning about MB where Peri has now lived happily with his family for twelve years. He has expanded from the online paper to magazine production and has two glossy periodicals out on the streets.
He says he has had splendid support from the MB community, albeit the paper desperately needs more advertising. He has become further entrenched in the MB world by taking on whatever roles he can for the Community organisation. He is a doer and a mover and MB is lucky to have his like.
Peter Goers has told me that visiting the MB town hall is a must because it is such a brilliant theatre.
I tell Peri and he immediately offers to take me across the road to make it happen. It is a stinking hot day. Not even a blowfly is moving in the main street. But it is cool and easy in the town hall where Shannon Holmes, the manager of the MB Town Hall Performing Arts and Function Centre, kindly opens up and turns on the auditorium lights to show what a sleek, well-equipped and sophisticated venue it is. I am duly impressed.
I’m keen to see the art gallery, too.
Easy peasy, says Peri.
And I’m led through the theatre and several doors and suddenly we are right in the gallery.
They are neighbours, both of them run and owned by the council with a big emphasis on community wellbeing.
I’ve been to the gallery before. I opened a show there many years ago. Loved it then and a really impressed now. Not only does it have an Annabelle Collette retrospective of ReDress, stunning costumes and works, but also Botanical Armour by Samuel Mulcahy, an artist from Clayton Bay who was mentored by the aforementioned Annabelle Collette.
His is a collection of metal sculptures of such delicacy and originality that I almost run out of superlatives. They’re all made from junk. Peri says that someone anonymously left a box of bullet shells on the artist’s doorstep one day, knowing that he’d find a use for them. And there they are…FLOWERS. Australian native blooms, Great big plants of extreme delicacy and detail.
I do a lot of swooning.
Back in the gorgeous Bridgeport, we take out cocktails to the balcony where the heat is tolerable and the view fantastic and choose to luxuriate in a room service dinner.
Tuesday 24th
Now it is suddenly cold. I brave the pool.
It is decidedly brisk. And I go downstairs to meet a particualrly special young woman who has been introduced by our actor/critic, geologist, and friend David Grybowski from his hospital bed in the RAH. He is recovering from a serious bike accident. And thinking of me and Murray Bridge and helping my quest for backgrounding, She likes her privacy so I am not using her name. She is a single mum, a care worker and mother of an austistic son. She’s as as smart as she is beautiful, auburn hair, tats and piercings. A modern woman. She has actually managed to buy her own house in MB, had to do a lot of reno and, rightly, she is very proud and very happy. She was born in MB and chose to return there after years in the city. She gives me a deep and very positive grounding in what it is like to live in MB. She has a lot of good to say for MB and, when I raise the hoary old subject of drugs and MB’s reputation for meth, she responds, as did Peri, that it is no worse than any community where poverty is an issue and is less prevalent these days. Her one criticism is for rehab of young offenders on release from jail. Attention to this would help a lot, she says.
Like Peri, she says she has had no personal run-ins with the reputed social problems of MB. She is happy with schools and facilities, the sense of community and the ease of living away from a big city. Like Peri, she says moving to MB was the best decision she had made.
I loved meeting her and could have talked all day.
Why is there such a queue at the Chinese self-serve? Well, it turns out to be the best food court Chinese I have ever encountered. Every dish is stunning, The garlic fish is sensational.
Indeed, our food experiences in MB have been uniformly good.
The Indian/Italian Mustard Seed restaurant located at the end of the mall serves us a meal of exquisitely complex and authentic flavours.
There’s a liquor store adjacent to the hotel, too. Therein the chatty assistant introduces me to the local product which, of course, I’m keen to support. I love a gin and tonic. MB’s Downstream Gin turns out to have a striking character all of its own, so much so that I return to buy a second bottle to take back to town. Full marks, MB.
Meanwhile, I use all the good things I have learned on my Murray Bridge "immersion" to add substance to my Australia Day speech and the wonderful Bridgeport kindly prints out my it out for me.
We sleep beautifully in Room 411’s high-quality bed.
25th January
A grey day dawns with rain in the forecast.
And we have to change hotels. The MB Council has assigned me as Australia Day Ambassador a room in the old Murray Bridge Hotel.
According to its website, it is famous for good food and it features lovely renovated rooms opening up onto its classic country balcony. I’ve stayed in such country pubs before and, although loathe to leave the Bridgeport, I am keen to get a taste of olde worlde MB.
So, after another gorgeous room service breakfast, we do the packing chore, are kindly given a late checkout, and head off to do some exploring. Murray Bridge brags lots of stunning parks and it is all true. Fabulous impeccably-maintained parks. Picnic heaven. We head down to the riverside parklands to watch young men fishing - and catching the carp that are the menace of the Murray. There is a bin provided in which fishermen are advised to discard them. Not today. There is a greedy cormorant hanging out for a feed. The fisherman proffers a second one. He swallows it whole, so full that he almost sinks when he returns to the water.
I had promised Bruce this cultural treat. It is housed in a cage so it can't get away. A great big mythical monster. And there is its cage. It is in there under the water. I press a button and it rears up with a deafening roar. Deafening!
Kitsch is not in it. This is pure Aussie cornball. Much laughter.
We've had an eye on a fantastic nature trail on the edge of town.
Lovely strings of lakes and an island retreat for a huge flock of pelicans. The
walking trail takes one right down beside the big new Thomas Farms Abattoir, one of the things which have helped to save MB, albeit I’m told, employing far fewer locals than the town had hoped.
We find an embankment path around the lakes which had been closed thanks to floods and it makes a decent-length of walk.
The most astounding ant colonies are all long the path - and they are busy ants. We see a big native Rakali diving under water. What a big, sturdy tail. It makes
for a very satisfactory nature studies thrill of the day.
There are lovely marsh grasses, samphire, wildflowers, gum blossoms and places to sit and gaze. And there are the pelicans. If there is one thing I love, it is pelicans.
It is all very pleasant indeed.
Just as we can see the end of the trail, the rain begins. Phew.
I call the Murray Bridge hotel to see if we can check in early since the rain looks like setting in.
"Any time after 12.15 says the receptionist."
So, off we go.
Lots of stairs, I worry about lugging my luggage up them all.
To cut a long story short, we do not lug the luggage up them. Dear old country pub it may be. But, sadly, my assigned room is not only oddly spartan but reminiscent of Death of a Salesman. Not at all like the room on the hotel website.
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It is more of a museum piece. It is really spacious. Except for the little lavatory cubicle behind a door... which has a shower crammed in it. Amazing.
But not for us on my "2024 MB as a holiday destination" mission. We return keys to the woman in the office who seems completely unsurprised. I ring the Bridgeport which kindly finds us a last-minute room on the 3rd floor. I drop an embarrassed note to the MB Council informing them that I am not at the place they have provided for me.
Back at the beautiful Bridgeport, I settle on the little balcony and watch the weather while getting on with running thru my speech, which now feels alive with the freshness of my experiences of “Murray Bridge as a holiday destination”. Er, not mentioning, let alone recommending the hotel so bewilderingly offered by the Council.
It pretty much rains all day, The landscape is soaking it up gratefully but I go out with my brolly to do my MB shopping.
Special gifts from the Gallery shop. Lovely Ngarrindjeri basket weaving for cat-sitting Merry and some amazing art earrings, all exquisitely gift wrapped for me.
I walk the town and find the MB Information centre and pay it a visit, chatting to the volunteers who are pretty much in a world of their own. It is a beaut place. I buy some local almonds and a postcard and ask for directions to Edwards Park where the Aus Day event is being held and then walk up in the rain to check it out. The Cottage Chocolate shop is a MB MUST. It is one of the best chocolate shops in the country. I stock up on gift boxes and repair back to the Bridgeport.
Usually, on the night before AusDay, we are invited to dinner to meet the mayor and CEO of whichever rural town I’m allocated. This is my 13th AusDay and the first time I am not meeting the mayor.
Instead, we sit on the balcony with G&Ts and snacks and give cheers to that lovely local Downstream gin. And we order in another gorgeous room service repast from the Bridgeport.
Just loving this hotel. It certainly is a "destination" in itself. And, I've been talking to people I've met in the reception area. We're all impressed. Some are already on return visits. I reckon we might return here, too - so close to Adelaide and yet a world away.
Friday January 26. AUSTRALIA DAY
What a glorious dawn!
The rain has stopped but it is way cooler than I had anticipated. I’ll freeze in the light black slacks I packed for the Day. Reluctantly, I don my jeans and an ensemble of warm blues.
We’re too early for the gorgeous room service brekky and AusDay always features eggs and bacon so we head for the park.
It is not 7.30am but the park is really busy and all the chairs laid out in front of the stage are already occupied.
I go to the Citizens’ Registration desk and ask if anyone can identify the mayor for me. A besuited gentleman standing there says, yes, he can. He says he is the Deputy Mayor. His name turns out to be Tim Vonderwall’
Bruce finds himself a damp wooden bench at the perimeter of the park and I follow Tim to be introduced to the mayor. Wayne Thorley.
Big fellow. Loud guffaw. I am introduced. “You’ve got five minutes,” he barks, “I may take longer,” I laugh. “Where will I be sitting?” He points to chairs set on the stage and returns to talking to some men beside him.
I recognise a friendly face in Ben McMahon, photographer and partner of my old colleague, journalist Katie Spain, and excuse myself.
I potter around and take snaps for my Australia Day Council report and, of course, for Twitter, or should I say X. There's a beaut town band. The Rotary
and Lions volunteers are serving breakfasts. Even pancakes. I go for bacon and egg and pop my coins in the tin.
When events are about to begin, I’m shown some chairs which have just been placed on the side of the audience and I sit, gratefully. Young cadets perform a lovely flag raising. The community band plays the National Anthem. The mayor opens things up and has a pretty decent speech. Tim Vonderwall, then reads an introduction to me. Very nicely. I’m chuffed. I have to walk across the front of the audience to get to the ramp and lectern and, worried about keeping the speech to five minutes, I jettison my notes and extemporise.
It comes easily since it is coming from the heart and it is a bounty of freshness. A paeon to MB, hot off the "immersion" experience.
More or less, this is what I said:
The Honourable Mayor, councillors, politicians, wonderful agricultrural, river, meat, and office workers of MB.
We are on the Pomberuk land of the Ngarrindjeri people, paying respect to first nations elders past present and future…and it makes me feel so comfortable, the way in which the Ngarrindjeri are acknowledged in MB.
In this, it is a community way ahead of the curve. Even in the
hotel lifts there’s acknowledgement to the First Nations….
We Australia Day Ambassadors are drawn from people who have been outstanding in all sorts of different paths in life…from police and army to theatre and radio.
Mine path is media
Yes…50 years. I’ve been in the journalism game for half a century. It has been a wonderful career and of course I have a profound love of the written word and the tradition of the newspaper - and the spreading of news….something which truly holds communities together and one of the things for which MB may be so very proud. I wave the flag to Peri Strathearn and that excellent paper of which I have been s subscriber since he got it up and running.
Murray Bridge News is a real flag for this city to fly.
Peri Strathearn has earned a lot of kudos in the journalism world. What he has done has made him a bit of a hero - and MB seems to have recognised this, cos he told me that he has had the most magnificent support and acceptance and and feels truly embedded raising his kids here. He wouldn’t mind a few more advertisers in the paper, tho…
I spent some time with a single mum here yesterday. She was born here. Like most people in MB, she has tats. Fabulous tats. My golly there is some stunning tat art here…It’s Tat City.
This single mum has been able to buy her own home here, albeit she had to do a lot of reno. She loves this place to bits. She is happy with schooling and community life, she tipped me off on restaurants and volunteers spirit and the community…she loves the sense of community, is empowered by it.
This country has just come through some strange and rocky times. Murray Bridge is no exception. MB has overcome a lot over the years and its knockers have a lot to account for.
Most of them have never been here. They have just passed through.
But now I have really BEEN to Murray Bridge, spent a week around the place meeting people and seeing what has been done here, anyone who has a go at this town will have me to deal with.
I won't hear a word against this place.
Suddenly, I am not just an Australia Day Ambassador! I’m a self-appointed MB ambassador…
Great accommodation. Great food. Great people. OMG, the parks!
Did I mention the river?
Two days on a moored houseboat made me more relaxed than I’ve ever been in my life.
Then there’s that fantastic theatre and library and what a sensational gallery!
If you haven’t seen the exhibition in there at the moment, get there…not just the glorious fashions of Annabelle Collette, my old friend, but the Botanical Armour of Samuel Mulcahey…Sublime…I have never seen anything so delicate in metal sculpture, ever….and much of it made with bullets.
But everything comes back to the he river, the lure and beauty of the river. The history. The lives. The preciousness of water. The importance of flow…the mighty Murray….It reigns high in our history and literature. Max Fatchen, my dear friend and colleague, left a mark…River Kings.
Talking of oldies….the MB Citizen of the Year
Sandra Walding is one of those volunteers who helps the lives of older people…I have an early connection with Meals on Wheels and I actually met Doris Taylor when I was a gal.
Onya Sandra. Salt of the earth.
Community Event of the Year
The Rockleigh 105 / Gravel Fest for the weekend of gravel and mountain bike event sounds amazing and, oh, good onto The Hub. Food security is ace - and, by the way, I was impressed to see a food donation point in the mall here.
We Australia Day Ambassadors get to meet and appreciate these volunteers every year, and to cherish what community really means, as does this excellent Council, I believe.
Our official job is to give a viewpoint to the day.
Australia Day….people keep asking if we are going to change the date but the government has said no, at this stage.
It will remain controversial which is nothing new. It’s been bumpy since NSW decreed that it would be on the day of the landing of the first fleet in NSW now a seen as the day Australia ditched its English apron string….
The arguments are so NOT NEW.
it took until 1935 even to agree on the name Australia Day - and 1946 for the country to agree on a day.
It as 1994 when it was agreed to be a national celebration…
It will evolve.
It is evolving.
I was never mad on the date because it honours NSW and offends our first nations people.
But I am mad on A DAY!!!
…a day to puff out our chests and be glad of this country, this big, wide, diverse country, this sweet homeland with its …well, it was brought hone to me when my mother was in hospital and fussing around her was a united nations of nurses ands carers…and they don’t need much prompting to tell us how good our country is…landscape, lifestyle, people, wine…the air….but most importantly, whatever our politics, we live in a country and raise our children without FEAR.
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I throw in a couple of quick jokes to get a laugh but the biggest laugh had come when I dubbed the town “Tat City”.
The applause is warm and fulsome! Phew. I went over.
It's a substantial ceremony with lots of new citizens.
The local MP, Tony Pasin, gives a splendid and rousing speech. He is good at his job.I have heard him before. At Mil Lel, I think, another gorgeous Australia Day celebration. I loved it there. What a divine mayor. Australia Day has taken me all over this state. I have met some extraordinary people on some of the councils. Cleve, last year, stands out because of the exciting ag science bent. Ceduna was interesting because the Mayor had to run off to save a wayward boat during the ceremony. Coober Pedy was special because of the darling old Indigenous women I was able to spend time with - and the amazing hospitality. Elliston was significant, not only because the mayor remains my friend to this day but because, as I discovered in my research on it, Elliston is probably the only town in the world named after a woman writer. Ellen Liston. I am just so proud of that!
Every Australia Day allocation offers a new richness,
It is true about the tats. These MB people are an art exhibition on legs, a constant parade of magnificent designs. If I was a marketer in 2024, I'd be promoting MB as "Tat City". Tats no longer are a negative symbol. They are art.
People say to me "don't comment on people's tats". I always do. No one has ever been other than happy that I have. I am fascinated by their choices and by the artists who realise them on skin. If I was doing newspaper columns today, as I used to do in the 'Tiser, I'd be suggesting a "Tat of the Week" feature.
Murray Bridge, you shine.
Sadly, and for the first time in 13 rural Australia Days, I was not asked to join in for the official photos with the mayor and the winners. So I have none to show here. However, a paper thankyou bag was popped down beside my chair.
I notice that the Murray Bridge News ran a snippet on my speech and a photo of me giving it.
But there were lots of people crowding around me with congratulations and stories to tell after the ceremony so it was a while before we could leave the park. And some of the people in the street actualy shouted out to say how they loved the speech. Really heart-warming.
And that is the whole point of what we Australia Day Ambassadors are here to do.
This one had a fabulous time getting to know MB and, it is quite true, I won’t hear a bad word about the place - albeit that old pub needs to modernise Room 16.
