business with The Little Mermaid blaring in the background?
Mr Bullock couldnât even hear what I was saying at first.
âThe swimming pool,â I shouted.
He turned the video down.
âI reckon,â I went on, âif that pool was filled it could save this town. Truckies would stop off for a dip and spend money at the kiosk and tourists would come and pay fees at the campground and the local economy would boom and the bank wouldnât have to chuck families off their properties and who knows, someone from round here could become an international diving champion and really put this town on the map.â
Mayors ought to be more dignified, too.
When someone suggests something really important to them they ought to look serious and say âIâll make sure the council gives it their fullest consideration next time weâre having a drink at the bowls clubâ.
Not laugh out loud and stick their hand down their shorts for a scratch.
When Iâm world diving champ and I come home to accept the keys of the town, no way am I accepting them from him.
Anyway, heâs wrong.
Iâm absolutely positive that if the council bought half a million litres of water for the pool, people would not think it was the same as the councillors sticking the money in their bottoms, setting fire to it and doing cartwheels around town.
Mr Bullockâs also wrong about the state of the pool.
Iâm checking it out now and itâs nowhere near as bad as he says.
OK, the fence is very rusty, but thatâs only a problem when youâre climbing over it in a white T-shirt like I just did.
The turnstiles are pretty rusty too, but theyâll soon loosen up once kids start pushing them with blockout on their hands.
And the steps up to the diving board have seen better days, but people arenât idiots, theyâre capable of looking out for a few loose bits of concrete and a wobbly handrail.
Down here inside the pool itself things arenât too bad at all.
The paint on the bottom and sides is peeling a bit, but youâve got to expect that when itâs been dry as a duckâs dunny for eight years.
The important thing is there are no big cracks, so it wonât leak.
When these soft drink cans and chip wrappers and old shotgun cartridges are cleaned out itâll be good as new.
Once Iâve got it filled up.
Which wonât be easy.
Gran always reckons when youâve got a problem, make a list of all the things you could do to solve it, even the dopey ones.
Here goes.
I could ring the city and pretend to be the Gas âNâ Gobble and order two million cans of Coke and use them to fill the pool. Trouble is parentsâd be dragging their kids out every five minutes to make them clean their teeth.
I could stick lots of hoses together and syphon the beer out of the bowls club. But then only people over eighteen would be allowed in the pool.
I could persuade everyone in town to come down here on a really hot day and sweat a lot. If I lived in a town with more people.
No Doug, itâll have to be water.
Itâll be pretty hard getting hold of half a million litres of the stuff, but itâs the only way.
Itâll be pretty risky, too.
Not just for me, for the other kids as well.
Some of them might need an eye kept out for them.
Iâll do the best I can Doug, but I might need some help, OK?
Â
Â
Â
Â
For a while it looked as if the meeting was going to be as big a disaster as my birthday party, even though I tried even harder this time.
I made the invitation sound as important as I could.
VERY IMPORTANT MEETING, I wrote. THIS MEETING COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE. IF YOU EVER PLAN TO VISIT A NON-DROUGHT AREA (EG CANBERRA, THE COAST OR A TACO DIP FACTORY), BE AT THIS MEETING. AFTER SCHOOL AT THE DUMP. NO PARENTS OR DOBBERS.
I stuck an invitation in every school locker like last time, but this time I included a map. Even though it wasnât really
Mr Bullock couldnât even hear what I was saying at first.
âThe swimming pool,â I shouted.
He turned the video down.
âI reckon,â I went on, âif that pool was filled it could save this town. Truckies would stop off for a dip and spend money at the kiosk and tourists would come and pay fees at the campground and the local economy would boom and the bank wouldnât have to chuck families off their properties and who knows, someone from round here could become an international diving champion and really put this town on the map.â
Mayors ought to be more dignified, too.
When someone suggests something really important to them they ought to look serious and say âIâll make sure the council gives it their fullest consideration next time weâre having a drink at the bowls clubâ.
Not laugh out loud and stick their hand down their shorts for a scratch.
When Iâm world diving champ and I come home to accept the keys of the town, no way am I accepting them from him.
Anyway, heâs wrong.
Iâm absolutely positive that if the council bought half a million litres of water for the pool, people would not think it was the same as the councillors sticking the money in their bottoms, setting fire to it and doing cartwheels around town.
Mr Bullockâs also wrong about the state of the pool.
Iâm checking it out now and itâs nowhere near as bad as he says.
OK, the fence is very rusty, but thatâs only a problem when youâre climbing over it in a white T-shirt like I just did.
The turnstiles are pretty rusty too, but theyâll soon loosen up once kids start pushing them with blockout on their hands.
And the steps up to the diving board have seen better days, but people arenât idiots, theyâre capable of looking out for a few loose bits of concrete and a wobbly handrail.
Down here inside the pool itself things arenât too bad at all.
The paint on the bottom and sides is peeling a bit, but youâve got to expect that when itâs been dry as a duckâs dunny for eight years.
The important thing is there are no big cracks, so it wonât leak.
When these soft drink cans and chip wrappers and old shotgun cartridges are cleaned out itâll be good as new.
Once Iâve got it filled up.
Which wonât be easy.
Gran always reckons when youâve got a problem, make a list of all the things you could do to solve it, even the dopey ones.
Here goes.
I could ring the city and pretend to be the Gas âNâ Gobble and order two million cans of Coke and use them to fill the pool. Trouble is parentsâd be dragging their kids out every five minutes to make them clean their teeth.
I could stick lots of hoses together and syphon the beer out of the bowls club. But then only people over eighteen would be allowed in the pool.
I could persuade everyone in town to come down here on a really hot day and sweat a lot. If I lived in a town with more people.
No Doug, itâll have to be water.
Itâll be pretty hard getting hold of half a million litres of the stuff, but itâs the only way.
Itâll be pretty risky, too.
Not just for me, for the other kids as well.
Some of them might need an eye kept out for them.
Iâll do the best I can Doug, but I might need some help, OK?
Â
Â
Â
Â
For a while it looked as if the meeting was going to be as big a disaster as my birthday party, even though I tried even harder this time.
I made the invitation sound as important as I could.
VERY IMPORTANT MEETING, I wrote. THIS MEETING COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE. IF YOU EVER PLAN TO VISIT A NON-DROUGHT AREA (EG CANBERRA, THE COAST OR A TACO DIP FACTORY), BE AT THIS MEETING. AFTER SCHOOL AT THE DUMP. NO PARENTS OR DOBBERS.
I stuck an invitation in every school locker like last time, but this time I included a map. Even though it wasnât really
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