A SUMMER EVENING on the veranda of the old Minmi pub, a cooling uphill breeze, the beers cold and poured with the perfect head by publican Bill. It’s the early 1970s and I am here as half of a ‘blow-in’ couple, residents of only five years’ standing in this ex-coalmining village: two hundred people, one pub, one post office, no shop.

Pete stops by our table, fresh schooner of Old in hand and fresh news to tell.