Interned at Royal Melbourne, hours were long
And pay was meagre. Doctors young and keen
Were learning more than years of study gave us.
But specialist training such a bore; I knew
Of many other fish to fry. With friends
I hiked the Bogong High Plains, gasped in wonder.
Old forests stole my heart; clearfelling seemed
A hideous crime, despoiling all that beauty.
Then Ranger Mine Report appeared; a call
To arms against the loathsome metal, mines
Of death and nuclear sickness, human greed,
Stupidity, duplicity. We had
No federal leaders wise or green or decent,
So I joined the movement, met good Doctor Joe
And felt the buzz of fighting justly, all
For one and one for all. So much more fun
Than years more study. Built a hut of mud
And sweat with three old friends in them thar hills.
And found Marcel; was French and gay and sympa;
Became firm friends for years and years and still
In touch, though home for him is way across
The seas. Through him I met my first
Wife Prue. She deftly waited tables front of house
In Marcel’s restaurant. It paid the bills
For Prue to be an artist. He became
An artist too in self-taught years to come.