Hi all

As it turns out, South Australia was no different from Western Australia. Hardly surprising seeing as we were still traveling along the Eyre Highway across the Nullarbor. After getting our obligatory shot of the sign telling us we were at the border, but foregoing the opportunity to photographise a 10 foot fibreglass kangaroo called ‘Rooey II’ (despite the fact that this is one of the ‘highlights of South Australia’ - dear God, I wonder what other joys await us), we pushed on through yet more arid landscape.

We stopped off at the Head of Bight which is a place of huge natural cliffs overlooking one of the most dangerous stretches of water in Australia and was something which absolutely everybody we’d met had told us we just had to see for it’s pure awesomeness. We’ll have to take their word for it, cos it was closed. Not the cliffs themselves you understand, just the 12km road leading to them. Grand. Deciding against the 24km return walk in 35 degree heat, it was with reluctance that we bypassed the second of South Australia’s highlights. Not doing so well so far huh?

We pushed on and with the music once again hitting rich form, Mand’s tambourine quickly reappeared and after a decidedly dodgy hotdog each (called a ‘Nullar dog’ and dog sounded about right) in a roadhouse/town called Nundroo we saw our first bush fire. Not a big one, but it had the firefighters out and the flames were positively roaring. We really were seeing the best of Aussie culture. But next up was something Mand had been intent on seeing since we got here. The dog fence.

The dog fence is, believe it or not, a fence. To keep out dogs. Or more specifically dingoes. And it stretches for thousands and thousands of miles. Now Mand wanted to see this desperately. Why, I hear you incredulously ask, would you want to see a 3 foot high wire fence? Let’s just say I think there have been crossed wires here somewhere. No pun intended. Mand is sure that she spoke to her mum about this, and Chris had seen a film about it. And how aboriginal children had been separated from their parents and were never reunited. They must have been very small aborigines then. Pygmies in fact. Despite her initial adamance that it was the dog fence, she was eventually forced to concede the fact that she might have gotten it mistaken and that their must have been another fence in Australia that separated them. My suggestion that it was the Berlin Wall was met with a look that would’ve turned milk to cheese in about two seconds flat. Subsequent investigations into what other fence it could possibly have been (I love the ‘f***in stupid poms’ look on people’s faces when Mand asks ‘Is there another fence in Australia?’) have so far drawn a blank. But she will not let it lie. Chris, if you’re reading this, please put us out of our misery and let us know what it was all about. Please.

The dog fence we later found out actually started as a number of individual fences built by various farmers. The Government then decided that this was a great idea and filled in the spaces. I think the farmers have to pay something somewhere along the line for it’s upkeep but I’m not totally sure. Anyhoo, no-one seems to know exactly how long it is now, but it’s longer than the Great Wall Of China. But not nearly so impressive...

After the dog fence we whooshed through Penong, home of Cactus Beach which is one of Australia’s most famous surfing breaks. Woo hoo. We didn’t stop. And arrived in the town of Ceduna just as it was getting dark.

By this time on our journey across the Nullarbor, we had come across two (count them, yes two) time zones and were now two and a half hours ahead of when we left Norseman. This is enough to make us wide awake when everyone else is asleep (ten o’clock is a late night in these parts) but also raises the topical and controversial debate on Daylight Saving Time. Which is exactly what it says on the tin. Most of the other states already practice it. Western Australia doesn’t (I think the other one’s Queensland but don’t quote me on that) and right now it is the hot potato in local politics. These people are seriously rabid about it. The people don’t want it. Big business does. I’ll let you guess which side the politicians are on. They’ve already had trial runs twice, and voted on it three times. It got rejected three times out of three. But not to be told what to do by their electorate, the politicians have decided to give it another go. Starting again in January. For two years. This is quality. I guess they’re just trying to grind the naysayers down, but from what I’ve seen it’s making them angrier by the very second.

The first and so far most rabid person against the idea, was the woman who worked in Norseman Tourist Information. When we arrived she looked very much like you’d expect the Granny in Little Red Riding Hood to look. She was as polite as could be, helpful and barely spoke above a whisper. I’m not sure how we got onto the subject, but by the time we left she was foaming at the mouth and our ears were ringing like Big Ben. She started with a five minute speech (I’m not exaggerating one tiny bit), that started as a gentle soliloquy and ended with her ranting like Hitler who’d somehow found himself at a meeting of the Children Of Zion. The crux of her argument is that why should all the ordinary people, who are happy with things the way they are, have to d*** around when it’s big business who want the change. If they want a closer correlation (is that the right word?) with the Eastern states when they put their clocks forward, then they should get their employees to start an hour earlier. Or what about flexi time? They could take it in turns to start and finish an hour earlier. The boss could come in an hour earlier if that’s what it took (I can just see Rupert Murdoch coming to work an hour early in his Perth office to answer the phone, while his secretary is still at home in bed). This works for me I mumbled, knowing for once when to shut up and not interrupt. She was starting to look like Jack Nicholson in The Shining ‘Heeeeeere’s Granny’. But here’s how the Government are trying to sell it. Just think, when you come home from work in the evenings you’ll have an extra hour of daylight to go play footie with little Bruce in the backyard. Sounds good to me I stupidly ventured. WHAT? She virtually screamed at me, eyes bulging. In 35 degree heat? What man in his right mind is going to come home from a 12 hour shift in the mine and want to go and play with his kids in 35 degree heat? He’ll just go spend an extra hour in the pub. I decided not to offer the view that anyone who goes to work, then the pub, then to bed, then back to work again probably wasn’t going to give a flying fook as to DST (or his home life) either way. The other way they’re trying to sell it is that all the young people without kids can go to the beach for an extra hour in the evening. I kept quiet as she stared at me, daring me to ask the question. When she realised I wasn’t going to (I’m a fast learner), she hrumphed and fixed me with as steely a stare as I think I’ve ever encountered. Do you know the rate of melanomas and skin cancer in this country? I shook my head. It’s enormous. The Government spends millions a year trying to get people out of the sun and to educate them into not getting over exposed to it. Now, when it suits them and big business, (she spat the words ‘big business’) they’re trying to encourage people out into it. On the beaches around Perth the temperature in the afternoons gets into the forties. What do they think we are, stupid? I answered in the negative as I noticed her hand straying to the decorative but wickedly sharp looking ‘Welcome to Norseman’ letter opener on her desk. We left looking like survivors of Hurricane Katrina as she cheerily chirruped ‘Have nice journey’. Crazy hicks. This was one lady who’d already spent far too long in the sun if you ask me.

In Ceduna we got the other side of the argument, albeit in a slightly (but only slightly) more restrained way. We were sat chatting s*** with a couple who were probably in their mid sixties and feeling like the conversation needed pepping up a little brought up the subject once again. They were from Perth and considered themselves educated city people and so they were all for it. The best idea since sliced bread in fact. The guy used to be a petrol tanker driver and if for some reason he was short on his quota he had to let the people in the East (they deal with the allocations) know before midday. After that, the office would be closed and people would have to go short. I didn’t mention the theory that they could all just start an hour earlier. I couldn’t see how that would make much difference. Or indeed what difference it would make if they didn’t discover until after one o’clock. Mand boldly offered up the defence that people would just spend an extra hour in the pub. She was promptly scoffed at by the woman. She also gave us two excellent examples as to why those against it should never be listened to. One farmer said he couldn’t start an hour earlier cos it would confuse his cows who wouldn’t know what time it was. Maybe they had to go shopping or something. The second was absolutely priceless. One woman had complained that her curtains would fade quicker with the extra hour of daylight. Seriously. They did however ask us why we had it in England as we were all in the same timezone (this actually came as a shock to the woman - the timezone bit, not the DST bit). I’m ashamed to say I don’t actually know and have argued with Johnny over it a million times. I reckon it was something to do with farmers and daylight. He reckons it’s something to do with the war. Truth is I have no idea. Answers on a postcard please. I have found out since I first wrote this though, that in the US they introduced it in the war as a way of saving energy, so maybe that’s it. Damn, i hope johnny's not right. Or that's another 50 pence I'll owe him.

We also managed to piss off the guy, just by being travellers. This started out quite genially with us telling them what a great time we’d had in Asia and finished with him standing, going red in the face and clenching and unclenching his fists telling us that he had everything he needed right here in Australia and had no need WHATSOEVER to go to any other country in the world. Ever. I have absolutely no idea how this state of affairs came about. Truthfully. One minute we were sitting chatting and the next he just went f***in schizoid. We decided at that point that enough was enough and left, him still frothing at the mouth and his missus doing her best to calm him down. What a freak.

Laters all

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