The PR Blog

We have a tug of war going on at present in our countries, our cultures, our communities and our entire fabric of society.

The solid weave that we have relied on for centuries is being unwoven and re-set. In fact, we are witnessing a war unlike any other in history.

Not a war of men with armies gathering on parapets or places of strategic importance, but a war of ideals, commonsense and traditional values. Or are we? Is this a tug of war unlike any we have witnessed before? The tug of war whereby whoever shouts loudest wins in a battle of words, insinuations and accusations?

It's Sunday arvo and you have a few mates around to sink a few tinnies, spin a few yarns and chuck a few snags on the barbie. For American readers, that roughly translates to " It's Sunday afternoon and you have some friends at your home to enjoy some adult beverages, discuss topics on a varying range of subjects and barbeque a selection of meat based products. 

Local vernacular aside, the Sunday arvo barbie is an Aussie tradition where the kids run rampant in the backyard and a good time is had by all. If your mate is flash, he might have an outdoor TV so that you can watch the replay of a footie match and the menfolk can hurl abuse at the players with such phrases as " you bloody wanker! Pull your finger out! " or " Off side! Mate that was offside.. what's the ref thinking? Bloody poofter! " or words to that effect.

The world has gone mad and we are seemingly living in some kind of parallel universe where nothing makes sense. If Morrison doesn't pull his head in and stop being woke, his Government will topple and, as James Morrow so frequently says, Go Broke. As will this fine Nation. 

We will be morally and fiscally bankrupt. 

I grew up in a small rural community in the hills of New Zealand. My early life was shrouded in mist and the ever-present wind that pummeled our hilltop community and we loved every wet windy second. So much so that even today, all these decades later, my definition of a perfect day is a misty drizzly soggy one where I can snuggle down and take life off the hook and feel perfectly justified in being a sloth.

As kids, we roamed the paddocks, built campfires and fought incredible wars. 

It was about 30 years ago when I was living in a tiny town in the Channel Country. It was a Sunday morning and I got a phone call from a hospital about 14 hours away. My daughter was in their care and suffering from a particularly nasty viral infection in her lungs. Could I perhaps come as soon as possible?

I spoke with my husband and he said that there was a shortcut through some backcountry that could shave about 3 hours off my trip. But there was no diesel on that road so he filled a drum up with fuel and told me to stop at a place about halfway through. There was a Police Station and a pub and the local cop would help syphon the juice from the drum and that would see me safely through.

Banjo Paterson is the giant of Australian literature and folk law. His exploits in this field are so extensively well documented that I would not presume to add to them.

What is less well known is his contribution to the war effort in WW1 and to a much lesser extent The Boer War. His contribution to the successes of the Light Horse brigades was outstanding.