Australia Day reminisced

We spent our Australia Day gadding about the Bass Coast, out between Phillip Island and Wilsons Promontory.

Soon after midday, we turned off the South Gippsland Highway bound for Tarwin Lower. Just a hundred meters or so up the road we spotted an injured rosella leaping flightlessly, piteously across the road and up an embankment.

The rosella appeared to have a broken wing, so considering it was all but fox meat, we captured the poor creature, wrapping it in a towel, with a view to rescuing it. The only question was: How?

In desperation, we intercepted a parked police vehicle at the Meeniyan police station, just as the officer was about to drive out on some official errand. Paul patiently and kindly teed up a rendezvous for us at Fish Creek with a volunteer wildlife-rescue lady by the name of Rose. This wonderful, heroic lady took the bird into her expert care and we were able to resume our itinerary.

Scooted around to Walkerville South, then to the lighthouse at Cape Liptrap. In the carpark at the Cape, a red Ford ute sported a sticker with the slogan “War Is Terror”, beneath which the author www.johnbutlertrio.com was identified in smaller print.

Scooted across to Venus Bay, where the hungries hit us, so we had a late lunch at the (Something) Ba, a cafe place. Ordered burgers, in which the beef patties were virtually jumbo-sized meat balls.

Live entertainment was provided by a young man with yellow hair beneath a feathered hat, soloing with guitar and mini-Marshall stack, doing a tolerable job of singing standards, interspersed with some of his own compositions. The latter were mainly little anthems on peace and understanding. Nice!

Then he introduced another of his compositions, saying, “Here’s a song for Invasion Day.”

I waited for the teeming streetlife to fall silent and stop dead in its tracks, whether in outrage or sympathy. But no-one really seemed to be paying attention.

At this, the unheard voice-in-the-wilderness launched into a blistering musical critique of the colonisation and conquest by the British of our great, flat, brown land, throughout which was the consistent contrapuntal theme of the noble, wise and eco-friendly Aboriginal people.

I turned to look behind us at the local real estate agent – open for business on Australia Day, as no doubt it would be for the entire holiday weekend – noting that there was nothing in the window under around 160 thousand, median around 250 thou’, with premium holiday properties 350 thou’ and astronomically beyond.

Laughed and thought, “This is Australia.”

all images by jacob