I woke this morning and was struck by the thought that today is a bit like a metaphor for my life at the moment – a day that falls in the crack between a day celebrating English nationality, St George’s Day, and Anzac Day, a day that defines how Aussies feel about themselves.
After four years living in the UK I feel like I’m in limbo myself. Neither an arm or an elbow, as my dad would say. When I went home for Christmas last year I was so excited to be back in Sydney. But after six weeks I was ready to come ‘home’ to England.
Having said that, I didn’t feel any particular surge of English pride yesterday. I went into town to do an interview with Robert Savage for the St Christopher’s Inn website. I was struck by how well-suited the Thames is to misty weather but the sight of St George’s Cross flapping atop white vans scuttling about the city didn’t get my heart a flutter.
Tomorrow is Anzac Day so I’ll get the chance to test my levels of Aussie pride. I’ll wander into a Walkabout somewhere, order a Crownie and see if the sight of a Boxing Kangaroo flag and the sound of Mark Seymour belting out ‘Throw Your Arms Around Me’ on the jukebox still does it for me.
This is where you'll find everything you need to know about me and my books.
Happy Both Days!
If this day is caught in a crack between two identities like yourself, perhaps it could be called Peter Moore Day or something?
happy both days! i have a drink to you in the walkabout in derby
cheers chris callow
I had an Anzac day BBQ and the only Australians there were myself and my wife. I made lamingtons and pavlova and felt homesick.
Yesterday I spent a few hours in a pub in Canary Wharf, ostensibly for St Georges day. I have been here for 8 years and I didn’t feel a thing. My upbringing was heavily influenced by my Welsh grandfather and Scottish grandmother and I feel more scottish (a bit) than english (not in the least).
At work on Friday I will attempt to lure some of the lads to the pub for an Anzac day drink. I may ask for a minutes silence at 11. If anyone plays Weather With You by Crowded House I may get slightly emotional (yes, I know they are mostly Kiwi but it always reminds me of Oz). ANd I will shout along to Hunters as I have many times before despite not being an ocker.
Here’s to the Wattle, the emblem of our land. You can stick it in a bottle, you can hold it in your hand.
hunty
Peter,
I too am in my mid forties (a 63 vespa for me) and feelings of nationalism now seem a bit passe. Your descriptions sound familiar, so I wonder if your feelings are just a result of ‘that time’ of our lives.
BTW, I took my children to the ANZAC day march in Canberra.
Ciao
Hi Alastair,
You know, I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I think you could be right. And I think becoming a father a few years ago (I left it real late) maybe muddying the waters too.
Having said that, tracking down a film clip for the Hunters – and then listening to various versions I found – did bring a lump to the throat.
It’s funny, when I took my wife, Sally, on a big trip around Australia the thing that struck her was how ‘soppy’ Aussies were. Miners sniffling as they watched ‘Love, actually’ at the cinema in Mount Isa. And closing time at the Walkbabout Bar in Nhulumby when someone put on ‘One Perfect Day’ by The Little Heroes and the whole pub sang along with a tear in their eye. Didn’t quite gel with her Crocodile Dundee’d idea of what Aussies were like. But I found it quite endearing.