This is James on the dam wall at Warragamba. We barely made it. These were the moments, here in the drowned valleys that surrounded Sydney, the water at one of its lowest levels; recovering from crisis to concern. Water was a problem for the government. The $1.3 billion desalination plant had gone down like a lead balloon. Once more Iemma was wrestling with the Carr legacy. It had all come floating down these valleys, the city that had always needed more water than it could get. The problems that were flowing down towards the Labour state government after a decade in power. Iemma was next to Scully, looking as buffed as ever, gleaming almost.
Years of low rainfall had done their work, with the treeline well exposed all up the drowned valley; the concrete walls sweeping impossibly way down. Had to do a story once on the so-called yhetti which had been spotted on a number of occasions in the area around the dam. There were always people who had gone wild in the hills, since convict days.
After the presser and the huddle of politicians and the waiting cars, the local members, the water bureaucrats, the press secretary, after they left we went up to the Warragamba shops and had a pie and a drink in the shade, opposite the school, in green where it looked like nothing could go wrong. One day the rant just went into overdrive, he gave everybody the benefit of his views; till he calmed down and wished he hadn't even gone out the door that day. He could lapse into the slipstream at any moment. Saw Memoirs of a Geisha, which I liked but I'm easily pleased. The geisha is not a concubine. They are living works of art. They are the artists of the floating world. Apparently if you've read the book you're not going to like it so much. The kids great grandmother Dossy has died at the age of 90 and the funeral is on Tuesday. She was a tough old bird. Not sure she liked me very much but I never held that against her.
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