... Australia fair.
I spent most of this evening with colleagues from an Australian university. The chap I was sitting next to talked of decent things - like cider apples - and his changing perceptions of England and the UK. We got to talking about origins and histories, and it turned out that his family went back some way as an Australian family (i.e., not one of the original, Aboriginal, inhabitants). In fact, he is a sixth generation Australian. Of course, we talked of wars, and such things. He noted how when he first came to the UK as a student in the 1960s, he hadn't even needed a passport. His father had flown Lancaster bombers from English airfields - and survived. In his old age, he had returned for a last visit to England, only to find that he had to queue in the 'aliens' line on entry to the UK. To make matters worse, UK customs searched his baggage. Why ? Why this 'thanks' ? Because of the self-serving swine that have 'led' my country throughout my adult life, and because of the subservience of the UK Parliament to the European Union. This isn't the first time I have heard such a tale from an Australian. It makes me feel embarrassed, ashamed.
Here's an Australian recruiting poster from the Great War:
We haven't all forgotten.