For Nance Isobel Russell, 1912-2002, who gave me this journey.

In the puritan Australia of my childhood, you could only get a drink on a Sunday if you were a 'bona fide traveller'. That meant that you had to have travelled fifty miles or more. Around Sydney a ring of townships at exactly the fifty-mile mark filled with cheerful people every Sunday. One of them was a little place called Wiseman's Ferry.