I could see at once the town was going to be full of good omens: in all my journeys out west, it has never let me down. Driving in at sunset, I passed the old iron church with its white wooden cross; the church little bigger than a galvo dunny in the paddock. I ate a mixed grill at The Central. Walking out into the street and the cold night air, I asked a woman to show me the way to where the Town Band was rehearsing for Anzac Day. Finally I found their hall, also of galvanized iron, but…
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