The last of the Waratahs The tinsel is sagging. Real Christmas trees are wilting in the heat. You’ve spent too much. You’ve eaten too much and you’ve had too much to drink. The stuff you bought before Christmas is now on sale at half the price and despite great restraint, you have put on at least a Kilo in weight. One should be thankful for small mercies. At least I don’t have a hangover. It is however the season of drunk drivers, car accidents, drownings and suicides and there is very little sign of the Peace and Joy we sang about. Wars and catastrophes continue across the globe – tsunamis always seem to come at Christmas, and usually an earthquake or two as well, not to mention bushfires and floods. The homeless are still homeless, irrespective of the bountiful Christmas Dinner put on by local charities, businesses and volunteers and Africa’s children are still starving, despite all the chicken and goat cards we bought last year. The fighting never stops, whether in
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