Pronounced “corn”. No, I did not know that either. A dot on the arid landscape in South Australia ( 32°20’46.93″S 138° 2’23.85″E). I walk around the streets wondering what keeps people here. Maybe the clue lies with Gary and his wife who sit in the late autumn sun and sing out a cheery “owyergoing mate?” as I walk up the street. “Not bad, not bad, owgergoing?” They grin and swing a bit on their porch swing and tell me its a grand day. There must be something in the water. The streets are as neat as a pin, yards are tidy and the local cop has little to distract him apart from rowdy boys getting home from the pub in the early hours of the morning. Everyone wants a chat. We don’t just buy petrol. We have a long chat with the guy on the other side of the bowser about dogs, maps, neighbours and kids. After being in Sydney for so long I find myself wanting to finish the transaction and “get on with it”. For these people the transaction is not complete unless there is a long conversation involved. It takes a day before I realise I am champing at the bit and need to slow down. Therein lies the appeal of this place. I could easily come back here. Indeed I must.
