Blue singlet, thongs and shorts. King browns in the back of a ute, when the back of the ute was still legal. Aussie Aussie Aussie. ‘80s Australian rock on the stereo, repeat. Foreshore picnics, swimming in the river under exploding cordite. Been there, done that.

Are we coming up from the surface or from the depths? I guess it depends on which end our head is.

These days there are less flags on cars. Less call and responses. Survival Day. Invasion Day. Surveys and responses. Cricket captains ask to change dates. Footballers. Commentators say: “The national day. It’s many things to many people. Whatever it is for you I hope you’ll enjoy a day of test cricket.” 

We look for meaning where we can. Meaning is found wherever the spirit is active. What we celebrated before was meaningless. Desperation. Ironic without knowing it. 

The word that comes to mind now when we talk about this day, this idea of one country, is: confusion. But the journey to new understandings and insights passes through the door of not knowing. There is some road to travel yet.