Reflecting with Liz this morning, we noted that
two years ago was the only time in recent memory where Australia Day meant anything of interest, or even Australian, to us.
You see, when not travelling around the world, Australia Day means donning one of our respective "hats" and helping out with the
State Emergency Service. We've been members of the Kogarah unit for many years (me almost ten, and Liz most of the time she's known me).
Australia Day means going down to Carss Park and helping out with the fireworks extravaganza that
Kogarah Council puts on. Most of this helping out means directing cars to be parked in the huge ovals we need to fill up to deal with the vast quantity of people who couldn't possibly walk.
This year we had perhaps close to double the number of cars around that we usually do, and that means tempers flare when it is time to leave, or when people want to park somewhere that they aren't permitted to.
I narrowly avoided getting physically assaulted by one muscle-mass-higher-than-IQ gentleman who couldn't understand why he couldn't park right in the exit lane. No dodging the verbal assaults though.
This is all very nice for those of us who give up an entire day, at no pay, missing out totally on what Australia Day (or, if you prefer, Invasion Day) is all about. We stood in the sun from about 9am until the sun disappeared, then some more. Liz got home about 1am, joining me who had left about 10pm due to a chronic headache brought on by too much sun and not enough water.
So, thanks very much to the about three people each who said "thanks" or "Happy Australia Day" to either Liz or myself.
Have
you thanked a volunteer recently?