By William H, aged 8 months.
The first I heard of Australia Day was when mum dragged me out of bed at some ungodly hour on a Saturday and took me to a park. She stuck me in a bizarre contraption, put it on her back and proceeded to walk up and down the park with a whole bunch of other people, making an absolute racket in the process.
The only thing to do was to go to sleep and hope they’d be done when I woke up. No such luck, but by then they were sounding a lot better – I started to recognise some of my favourite songs like “Waltzing Matilda” and thought I’d join in with the percussion section. I played the pull-mum’s-hair (a marching band staple) and I have to say my sense of timing and beat is very good.
Australia Day has dawned bright and sunny and I’m very excited. We have arrived in the city and are walking very fast up Swanston St: there’s a whole bunch of people dressed like mum ahead of us. I like blue. It’s very interesting – there are lots of people wearing brightly coloured clothes around us (mum says they were community groups representing Australia’s diverse culture. I think they look pretty). I’m also inspecting lots of shiny instruments and having cuddles with all sorts of different people.
Ooh, we’re about to go – onto mum’s back, got my Aussie flag and sunnies and off we go. I’m keeping time for the whole band – they’re playing a great arrangement of Australian songs which apparently one of the guys in the band wrote. All the people watching are waving at me and cheering: I’m a star!! So many people are taking photos, I should have done my hair.
Sadly, it’s all over too quickly and we’re back in the car driving to nanna and pa’s place.
(To be continued)
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