True Blue

"True Blue, is it me and you
Is it Mum and Dad, is it a cockatoo
Is it standin' by your mate when he's in a fight
Or just Vegemi-ite
True Blue, I'm a-asking you"John Williamson, Singer-Songwriter and general fair dinkum Aussie bloke

I was trawling through a few albums the other day.  You know, those saucer shaped flat vinyl disc things that some of we oldies used to listen to via a stylus, and that revolved on a turntable at thirty three and a third revs per minute, way before there were CDs and DVDs.  Anyway, in the course of my rummaging, I came across some traditional Australian songwriters and their unique swaggering lyrics.  In particular, John Williamson has been a favourite of mine for many years, as he often chooses to represent the epitome of that unique and cocky occer Aussie culture. 

This got me thinking about how our world is getting smaller as each generation passes, and how the uniqueness of the Aussie 'bloke' and his 'Sheila' are fading into a universal blend of commercialised bullshit regurgitated by the pop culture of the day.

Language, like lifestyle, the world over, is being slowly swept up and dropped into a melting pot, from whence it eventually pours out as sadly similar and monotonously homogeneous, devoid of a motherland to nurture it's individuality and denied the fountain of youth, a birthplace where uniqueness springs forward.

There will come a day, as sure as fate, and quicker than a rat up a drainpipe, when it'll no longer be fair dinkum to give a bloke a fair go; when hearing that old optimistic well-meaning "She'll be right, mate" will be as rare as hens' teeth. 

I still remember, back in the day, when you'd have to mind your 'Ps' and 'Qs' in polite society and that if you spat the dummy in the wrong company, or, worse still, didn't pay for the drinks when it was your shout, you were likely to get a knuckle sandwich for your troubles.  People weren't scared to have a sticky beak at what each other were doing and to lend a hand, whether you were a neighbour or from the back of Bourke.

Back then, when Adam was a lad, young blokes weren't bent double all day under a smart phone, and were more likely to be as fit as a Mallee bull, thanks in part to playing footy.  They were also more likely to take to any task you gave them, like a duck to water, and not shoot through when things got beyond a joke.

OK, so I'd better not crap on anymore.  The world's a changing and our unique little foibles with it, so I'd better pull ma head in.

But, before I go, spare a thought for TRUE BLUE, wherever you can find it (and if you can find it) these days, 'cause it's the real thing, no bullshit!

The author of the above, Ken Boddie, besides being a sometime poet and occasional writer, is an enthusiastic photographer, rarely leisure-travelling without his Canon, and loves to interact with other like-minded people with diverse interests.

Ken's three day work week (part time commitment) as a consulting engineer allows him to follow his photography interests, and to plan trips to an ever increasing list of countries and places of scenic beauty and cultural diversity.