This will hurt me...

  Towards the end of the day, Tasman National Park, Tasmania. May 2021. Bila Yarrudhanggalangdhuray by Anita Heiss  I hope that  Bila Yarrudhanggalangdhuray  – “River of Dreams” in the Wiradjuri language – is but the first of many novels from the perspective of Australia’s original inhabitants as they confront the realities of invasion, colonisation and the calculated efforts to destroy over 50,000 years of continuous culture. This is the kind of book that I hope is (gently) introduced to younger readers and comes as a welcome relief from the self-mythologising nonsense that passes for historical memory in these parts. Heiss has woven a story through both a gendered and Wiradjuri lens that never seems forced or moralising. It follows many of the familiar patterns of the historical fiction romance, but in framing the central characters within the Wiradjuri cultural and linguistic tradition, what may have been a traditional tale is lifted into much more worthy territo...

Here you can see a sad old bugger waiting for the five fifteen to Claremont. There was once a time when men were men , women were women and people were people . Dogs were dogs, cats were cats and rats were vermin and rules were rules . Citizens respected authority, children were seen and not heard , little boys were little boys , little girls were little girls and they hated each other for it. People did what they were told and everybody was happy , (or at least pretended to be for the sake of their neighbours). There was no sex , no drugs and music was kept at a sensible level. Women dressed smartly , respected themselves and had pride in their appearence. Men kept their hair short, their nails trimmed and never cursed in the street. Ladies were ladies and were thus treated like ladies and genlemen were well-mannered and the rest knew their place and didn’t cause any trouble . By Christ it was horrible .