The PR Blog

Mr Pascoe, this is a story that children would enjoy reading as our land is ravaged by fire.

Please stop your nonsense and let children enjoy the magic of mythology, tradition and the Dreamtime. Please let our Australian children enjoy their childhood and the wonder of Aboriginal Australian Culture. . 

This nonsense about creating a fabricated history of Indigenous culture is insulting to so many people. 

Commercial media promotes goods, services, functions and political messages for those prepared to pay for this service.

The government-owned ABC also runs incessant ads. However, ABC ads promote the ABC, its own programs, and its black-red-green-rainbow political agenda.

Speckled about the steep slopes are clumps of small, fieldstone cottages. Their crumbling mortar and aging stones are victim to the ravages of time. Sprawling green meadows, vivid and fertile lay terraced and latticed-worked with pastel pinks and blues of the prolific hydrangeas which form hedgerows and borders.

Throughout the town streets are narrow, they dart willy-nilly between tall houses.  The hooves of a horse resound as it gently picks its way over dark cobblestones  polished to a sheen by countless feet before. Upon its weary back and mounted side-saddle an old man journeys.

Although late summer the air is already crisp as it transports and mingles the salty tang of sea and other heady aromas that give a hint to the freshly made cheese and bread still browning in the ovens. This, somehow, remains commonplace to the people of the Azores.

I have never been reticent in expressing my love and admiration of America. I love the Americans who call it home.

As an Australian, I admire the exploits of their armed services ( when I was a boy during WW2 )  but it was my experience of living there in 1976 that cemented the attitude I developed and still have today.

America is presently going through a very bad patch and has dragged the rest of the Western World with it.

Since the end of WW2, the only thing that has stood between Communism and the life that most of the free world enjoys is America. The untold generosity to every beleaguered nation on this planet has not been appreciated by most of them. 

Thank God for America. 

I think it’s safe to say that adventures of the more daring kind are often hatched during enthusiastic exchanges fuelled by the romantic powers of the wine bottle. This little sojourn was no different.

A drunken sailor is part of folklore and on this particular night, I was a born-again landlubber turned pirate encouraged by the delights of the fermented grape. 

Why did I say yes? You may well ask. But say Yes I did, and it began a journey that I will recount over the coming weeks. A journey that began in a conversation with a few friends.