They make the world go round...

The Farmer had to say goodbye this week to one of my first real friends in Australia: Speckie left this week with the four rosies for a position in another state.

What makes a friend? Well, one that when you show up all alone having never been in a country before takes you by the local version of a supermarket just so you know what milk looks like. Or one who makes sure the folks they know should get to know you as well. Or something as simple as making sure you have someone to have a pint with when you're sitting in a hotel on a Saturday night.

It's fascinating how in different countries of the world, each culture has dealt with personal relationships with strangers in different ways. Let's examine three of them: the US, England, and Australia.


Everyone knows how making friends with Americans work: Big as all outdoors, hearty, with a its-been-great-meeting-you-my-friend-and-yes-call-on-me-anytime attitude; and yet when you do phone, the number's been changed.

The English? Stoic and cold outside that comes from living in unheated rooms, but inside they are a firestorm of pent-up emotions. This amply evidenced by the fact that Page 3 of The Sun continues to be the most popular form of... ahem... entertainment. But be careful of the British! Once you get past the stoicism they melt all over you.

The most complex of the lot are Australians. Not satisfied with having two personality layers, they have no less than four.

First, the outer blustery layer - the one that will drink with you until the bars close, and stay after the both of you being thrown out into the gutter, falling asleep singing "Swing Low Sweet Chariot". As dawn breaks and you both wake up covered in roo spit, comes the next layer: amnesia. Not that they don't remember you, just they don't care what your shared experience meant. This allows them to drink with you all night, yet brain you at a business meeting the next day. If you do manage to get past this layer you enter the next one: wary acceptance. This may be evidenced by the use of the phrase "no worries, mate" and have them actually mean it. And finally we have the soppy emotional core. The place where even if you were on fire they'd put you out with their last pint of James Boag. That's when you know you're a true mate.

Yes I owe Speckie a lot, I reckon. And if he's reading this, let it be known that you are the best kind of human being. The best kind of Australian. And you will be missed.

- Farmer Ted