and that lead photo, and Elon in front of Ulysses S. Grant, the 18th President of the United States from 1869 to 1877, Republican Party. His presidency focused on Reconstruction, civil rights for freed slaves, and efforts to combat the Ku Klux Klan and corruption.

It is great to hear the Australian voice in a book; I'm thoroughly enjoying reading Gunnawah.

I learnt to drive ( and survive ) in one of those. A great deal of fun.

Yet while fireworks soared and the countdown rang clear,
Some dreamed of a future more just in the new year;
And I heard Dame Rinehart exclaim, ere she drove out of sight,
“Happy New Year’s Deceive, and to all a good night!”

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the coffers; then turned with a jerk,
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose;
She sprang to her sleigh, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
As she whispered of think tanks none else should know;
The stump of a pen she held tight in her teeth,
And the ink, encircled her head like a wreath;
She had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when she laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

A bundle of cheques she had flung on her back,
Like a billionaire's plot in a donor's black pack.
Her eyes—how they twinkled at fourteen grand tables!
Her fundraisers packed with the rich and their fables!

She was dressed all in fur from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all tarnished with coal dust and soot;

And then, in a twinkling, I heard overhead,
The whir of a private jet, filling with dread;
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the chimney Dame Rinehart came with a bound.
Her timing, of course, was nothing but prime,
For New Year’s hush was the best moment to chime.

Like leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the television the courses they flew,
With sleight of hand tricks, and Dame Rinehart too.
But the clock soon approached a whole brand-new year,
Threatening illusions Pete held so dear.

"Now Nuclear! Now Coal Plants! Now Gas and Inflation!
On Blackouts! On Fear-mongering! On Misinformation!
To the top of the polls! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

With prices so low, so lively and quick,
He knew in a moment this might make folks sick.
More rapid than eagles, his excuses they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

The moon on the breast of the sun-powered town,
Gave lustre to solar panels newly laid down,
When what to his horrified eyes should appear,
But a grid full of renewables, so cheap and so clear.
And in that bright glow of the nearing new year,
Pete sensed this progress might cost him dear.

The voters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of cheap power danced in their heads;
When down in SA there arose such a clatter,
Pete sprang from his desk to see what was the matter.
He rushed to his window, alarmed by the din,
Fearing a New Year’s shift might soon do him in.

now on my Christmas list of books to read...