8:106) Dirk Flinthart 01-FEB-98 22:26

And it's a long, slow, Sunday afternoon on the verandah of the pub. Underfoot, the wooden floor worn to a gloss of ages by countless scuffing boots. Slow, drawling speech and flies under the brim of the broad, battered hats while I and mine take a table to see the sea, faraway blue in the east. We are well and living comes easily, with the blood young in our veins and the good malt and amber beer cold as wickedness across the questing tongue. We sit in comfort as the breeze comes from the west with the breath of mountains on it. The talk is bright and laughter comes freely.

We plan the overthrow of the state, a movie starring Kiefer Sutherland and Michelle Shocked, the downfall of world capitalism and a comic novel about Elvis. Mountains move as easily as flowers before our grain-scented words. In the strength of youth and health and friendship, we fear not fire, nor foes, nor yet what lies before us.

But all as the sun walks west across the wide blue world, somehow I hear a distant drum and know the fear of flags.