A copy of The Dura arrived at our home the other day. Not an unusual occurrence in Mildura, I expect. But the homely-sounding town that bears a name conjuring up an image of a loveable old lady in a hand-knitted cardigan, sipping tea from a china cup, is on the other side of the world from here.
Mildura lies on the banks of the Murray River in Australia’s state of Victoria, which, apart from being the name of an overrated sponge cake, really was at least one overbearing old lady’s name. And still is. Despite her passing. Though she wasn’t quite so loveable according to some accounts. Not as loveable as Mildura, that is. Though I don’t know how loveable Mildura is. Or is not. Having never visited.
Not that old ladies are born old, even though it does…
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