The Return

By Dr Ian Gordon

The Return is a novel of Prophecy and Mysticism. In the immediate present, psychics, inspired religious leaders, New Age devotees, and the many who believe in UFOs all sense the coming of some event or entities who will bring imminent change. A small community in Northern New South Wales in Australia becomes a microcosm of that change as its psychics contact cosmic civilizations and others of the past of Earth. Long prophesied planetary upheavals herald the Return.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 17, 2007
• ISBN: 9781483509495

Book preview

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PART ONE

A New Mysticism!

"And in the last days it shall be, God declares,

that I will pour out My Spirit upon all flesh,

and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,

and your young men shall see visions,

and your old men shall dream dreams;

yes, and on my menservants and on my maidservants in those days

I will pour out My Spirit; and they shall prophesy."

Acts Chapter 2 vs. 17 - 18

Chapter One

Sanctuary

It was the rainy season. Layers of mists clung to the hills along the far north coast of New South Wales. The locals would have to admit it was humid, by anyone's standards. If the sun broke through, the weather would be stinking hot; if it didn't, the region could be awash in up to 250 millimetres of rain by the end of the day. Either way, the weather did not present the best of scenarios for physical work that afternoon. It was late summer in the sub-tropics of Australia.

Doug Fraser was lucky. He worked his hobby farm in semi-retirement and could choose to take it easy. He was used to pottering around the farm dressed much as he was then: T-shirt, board shorts and sand shoes. His fine rimmed spectacles often sported a pair of clip-on shades beneath a well tanned receding forehead. As he sat there in his lounge room, enjoying the views, he was perspiring.

The weather could account for most of his discomfort, but he was also about to be involved in a fairly searching interview. There was some pressure in that, even though he had initiated it himself. Sitting opposite him was Dr Andrew McGregor, a university academic from Sydney. Although he normally worked as a physicist, he was visiting the Fraser farm as a consultant for a national UFO investigation body. Andrew had been quietly sorting papers on his knee for a couple of minutes, then with a despondent sigh he stuffed them back in the file and tossed it on the table between them. It was a thick file and the cover read simply: Fraser, D. INTERVIEWS.

The two men were usually at ease with one another, but Andrew still paused - not for effect, but because he was genuinely reflecting on the options before him. Then he decided to be very frank.

Doug, how long has this been going on - you believing you have seen UF0s?

Doug was not one to be defensive or apprehensive and responded readily.

I think your files probably go back to 1987. That's when I lodged my first formal report with the state UFO Research Society. That's a long time to harbour a fantasy, Dr McGregor!

You're not going to go all formal on me are you, Doug? By now you should know the qualifications are for outsiders. For that matter, didn't I see in the file somewhere that you have done a Masters Degree at Monash University? What was that about?

Oh that! Social Sciences, an aeon ago when I was interested in planning and evaluation. My interests have moved on a long way since then.

To UFO phenomena?

Indirectly. More to basic philosophical things, including if you like, trying to understand what's behind UFOs.

Join the club!

Andrew's sip of iced coffee disguised a few seconds of thinking ahead. Eventually he put the cup down and looked at Doug intently.

That is a long time Doug: either to harbour a fantasy or to be genuinely involved in something like UFO phenomena. You and I have some serious thinking to do - this weekend, for preference!

I was hoping you would say that. Where do you want to begin?

Andrew looked at Doug for his usual approval, then switched on the portable digital recorder beside the file.

OK. First, let's talk about the numbers game. I probably don't have to tell you that a lot of people in both the state organisation and the national co-ordinating body think that you are out of your tree because of the number of reports you have sent in. About 17 accounts of close up views of UFOs - that sound right?

Could be. My private files have about 70 or more detailed reports. I only send in information about the more spectacular sightings.

Strewth Doug! Do you realise what you are saying? Do you know of Dr Winton who was involved in some of the early UFO investigations?

You mean like the Air Force cover up?

There are a lot of people who agree with you about the cover up bit. But anyway, Winton’s ideas still carry some weight. The point is this. He warned UFO investigators about people who reported more than one sighting - said their testimony should be disregarded because the odds were against one person having more than one experience. And here you are! What was it? Seventy sightings! You can understand why people are dubious about you! Quite frankly, either you are playing games with us and yourself - Or there is something unique happening to you. And one way or another, I have to find out which it is...

That's fine. I prefer to know what you are thinking Andrew. But tell me this: you have had several interviews with me during the last couple of years - why are you hanging in there then?

Off the record Doug, I think the Winton approach is sus! You must have done enough stats in your social science methodology to understand about levels of significance and ways of being confident about data. When you are doing research, the unusual is the most interesting, especially if there is something consistent about it. In your case, if you are fair dinkum in what you say, there's a flag three metres square hollering: Look at this! Besides, you haven't had a nervous breakdown, you are intelligent and probably as well trained in observation and evaluation as the local police - and I would have to take note of reports from them. Personally, I find it fascinating that you should be coming across this stuff all the time and I want to know why that is!

Well, that's sort of why I want to talk to you and suggested another get together. There's something I have never mentioned in my reports or interviews to date. And I think it may be the important factor in all this. You see Andrew, I am psychic.

The coffee again provided a few seconds of thinking time for Andrew.

You are not making life easy mate. Now I'm really up the creek without a paddle! First of all I'm supposed to investigate the intangible UFO and work out whether there are any wicked Aliens trying to do us all a mischief. Then, in your case, in order to get to the bottom of that I've to investigate the reality of psychic phenomena and work out whether you are a wicked wanker deceiving us all. Doug, you've got to help me. This goes beyond the limits of a Ph.D. in physics.

Unless I miss my mark, this could be right up your ally. The truth is, Dr McGregor, I need you as much as you need me. We may have to form an unholy alliance in the interests of science and philosophy.

Why do I feel like a subject in some project to test the limits of human gullibility? Can we go out for some fresh air?

Sure. Why not walk around the property? We can talk as we go.

As the two men stepped out of the converted farm house Doug mentally prepared himself for the barrage of talking points which the building and house yard provided. There were the high-tech fresh water catchment and storage; solar electricity panels for hot water, power storage, and even the electric fence; and numerous conservation projects for water, heating, rubbish and septic sewerage reticulation in the garden and the orchard. The whole hobby farm project was just starting to come into its own and its creator was looking forward to a bit of show and tell. But the visiting scientist didn't need any showing, telling or selling. Rather, Andrew's alert eyes took things in without the guided tour. Then he remarked very matter of factly:

I see you are into self-sufficiency. Disappointed you are not harvesting gas from anything ... That's not some hydroponic growing down there, is it? We must talk about the logic of that one day. . .

Somewhat taken aback at the loss of an expected captive audience, Doug led the way through a small rainforest re-vegetation project to a high plateau at the northern end of the farmlet. They paused in the clearing. The sea breeze was disbursing the humidity and was a welcome refresher after the brisk walk.

For a while Andrew silently took in the 360 degree views. Then he seemed more relaxed generally and turned to his host: Now there's something you haven't made! You know, as I drove out here, I was wondering what possessed you to settle along the North Coast. I'm beginning to understand. That has to be Cape Byron Lighthouse on the coast - and that hunk of prehistoric sculpture has to be Mt. Warning, just past the Night Cap Ranges, whatever they are...

This is where I stood when I decided to buy the property. Magnificent, isn't it? I spend a lot of time up here.

No wonder you're fit. Far to the sea from here?

Ten minutes from town. It's less than an hour to all the major scenic features, including spots like Nimbin, the water falls and the big rivers...

You trying to start a tourist farm or something?

Not really. Selfish that way probably. I just enjoy it. And the community is challenging to say the least. If you think I'm a bit on the strangely perverted side of normal, try spending a few days down Byron Bay and see what you think 'normal’ is!

I suppose you come here to watch for UF0s?Andrew asked as he decided to focus the conversation.

When I’m given the nod.

You don't mean from one of the locals, do you? All right, fill me in.

Andrew was not as fit as Doug. Academia had not provided him with the kind of life style which kept Doug looking young at 45 or so and able to walk the hills of the farm without getting out of breath. Andrew reckoned he must be about 5 years younger than Doug. He would have to admit to being a bit portlier too, or at least, more heavily built, but he was a few centimetres taller, so he rationalised he could carry some extra weight.

Then there was something else he conceded as he looked for somewhere to sit. Judging from their clothes, Doug may be less conservative than himself. But then, if he were living on a farm there would be a good chance he wouldn't be wearing his walking shorts, long socks and sports shirt ... Perhaps circumstances rather than attitudes.

Doug had found himself a patch of tussocky grass and sprawled under the mottled shade from a nearby wattle tree. That was something else Andrew noticed: the guy was fairly relaxed. And he knew he tended to be a bit hyper himself. Well, he was always efficiently well organised and actually enjoyed being busy - a mixture of training and survival skills in his Department.

In the moment of settling down on the rocky outcrop he had chosen, well away from ticks, ants and the like, he felt himself envying something about the man he had come from Sydney to interview. That might be it. As he watched Doug he could swear he seemed to be slipping further into his 'at peace with the world’ state, and wondered how he did it...

For a few moments Doug Fraser deliberately went into a relaxing mode and absorbed the environment of the bush. He consciously changed the rhythm of his breathing, so that there was a deeper, slower movement of his chest. Simultaneously, other things seemed to be in slow motion, or pausing as if for him to notice them. The bird life came into focus. Pheasants called to one another nearby, as he seemed compelled to count the eight or nine repeated bell like calls, each less intense and hanging like a perpetual echo for the answer. Some sort of wild turkey with a long blue neck and bronze head scampered into the bush nearby. The brilliant green and scarlet of king parrots flirted with the tree canopy of flowering eucalypts. Further afield he recognised the smaller parrots having an argument with the butcher birds. The far end of the plateau was quiet and he guessed one of the fancy helmeted hawks was checking it out.

Then there was the breeze. It always reminded Doug of spiritual things. Just then it was refreshing, letting itself be heard as it forced its way through the six thousand re-afforested trees behind them. But there was a moment when it was personal, wrapping around him with a gentleness which he enjoyed as he tried to draw it inside himself.

Doug’s body and the ground became one. He sensed his legs sinking into it as if he were actually standing within the earth rather than sitting on it. He was aware of an energy spiral nearby and knew he could swim in it. But instead he shook his head. This definitely was not the time.

Time. How long had it been: seconds or minutes? He never knew. He cautiously looked at Andrew McGregor, sitting strangely calm and relaxed for him. Good; it couldn't have been long this time. Doug's eyes caught a flash of gold on Andrew's hand. He was riveted as he saw the gold wedding ring apparently slide off and sit itself atop a slender black staff vertically placed in front of him. He watched a fine crack at the apex of the ring grow wider, slowly parting and rejoining, parting and rejoining, forces pulling it further apart, yet some fantastic spring snapping the broken circle together. Compressed thoughts leaped from the rod to his mind, surrounding him, challenging him to express them. Doug was used to that sort of challenge and went for it ...

Andrew, you haven't had that wedding ring long. Months at the most. And you didn't get it in a church - you should have done though. Right now your marriage is under enormous pressure. You are pulling it apart by what you are doing, each crisis is becoming more critical and it seems a miracle you are still together. You have to apply some of your serious thinking to your marriage, right now, or the relationship will end.

Andrew leapt to his feet and spoke without his normal discrete pause.

That's bullshit! It's as much her fault as mine. Both of our careers are taking us away from each other if it comes to that. She's not prepared to compromise her commitments; why should I? The way things are going I'm bloody glad I held out for a small registry do instead of her fancy church affair. At least it’s not quite so embarrassing if things do go down the gurgler!

Belatedly, he paused in midstream. The seconds seemed to stretch as his eyes fixed on those of the man sitting so calmly in front of him.

How the hell did you know about all that? We've not said a thing to anyone - either of us.

Just psychic, I guess. Are you further upstream or downstream in the Creek?

Don't know at the moment. Look, this business with Lois and me - you won't mention it to anyone? You are probably right though; I think we are heading for a bust up.

It needn't happen. What I saw is a reflection of what is now and the future thing was like an extension of that, like a mathematical extrapolation of givens. Change the parameters and the extrapolation changes. It's not inevitable. But if you want your marriage to last more than six months you have to do something about it.

There's more than a bit of maths and physics in your own background, isn't there? You know which buttons to touch for me...

What say we walk back to the house for a farmer's sandwich and pick up the threads later. For that matter you look as though you could do with a drink. You usually have Bacardi Rum and Coke, don't you?

Andrew's head snapped round at right angles to appraise Doug yet again. They had never had a drink together. How the hell did he know that? His foot stubbed a root and he stumbled out of one reverie and into another as they walked back in silence.

A family of three tawny owls was silhouetted in sleep on a limb of one of the grand father red cedar trees on the boundary of the house paddock. Their shaggy outlines remained unperturbed as Doug and Andrew rattled the iron railings of the cattle grid nearby. Wherever one looked, the whole place confirmed that Nature was at one with the farmlet Doug and his family were creating.

The wildlife seem happy to tolerate you, Andrew remarked unnecessarily.

We have our moments. There's a real scungey fox on the hill which cleaned out our first lot of seven chooks - so much for free ranging without fences, I suppose. But early one morning last week a young wallaby looked at the house from the other side of the cattle grid there. And there's a male koala checks out the boundaries of his territory in the gum trees overhead. Makes you feel something is going right. I suppose that is why a lot of our visitors from Melbourne get so much out of the place. It's not just the terrific climate, they really feel relaxed and rejuvenated here.

Come clean. You really are setting up one of those eco-tourism holiday farms, aren't you?

Oh, it may be a Sanctuary of sorts, but not a tourist thing.

Minutes later the two were ensconced in a study. The window overlooked four waterfalls on the escarpment. The rainy season wasn't over yet. Changes of temperature made mist materialise near the creeks and springs which the waterfalls helped to feed. Doug mused to himself that other visitors would be raving about the mystical qualities of the area, its good vibes being a magnet for sensitive people, and similar New-Age type assertions - but not Andrew. He was a down to earth, hard data type guy. Eventually he would need something very concrete and hands on to convince him about the UFO sightings. He wasn't about to leave without feeling there was headway in his investigation.

Andrew was still checking out this fellow he thought he knew but obviously didn't. Books. They were always signposts. Yes; a fair collection of UFO case studies - Doug could always be picking up ideas from there, either consciously or unconsciously ... Another section just as big on psychic literature - even Geller stuff; that's interesting, he thought. But the largest section of bookshelves seemed to be on religious things, a fair swag on spiritualism, some old books looking like Proty-dog dogma. And, would you believe it, a couple of rows of new stuff on charismatic revivals. Those sections were far more accessible than a more professional flavoured library behind a home made desk. Newer interests, probably. Then a corner shelf of coffee table books: Australiana, literature classics, reference books- and a few

on bushwalking and gem stone collecting. Healthy, he thought. He does have some interests outside the obvious preoccupation ...

I have been thinking, Doug's voice whipped him back to the man he was supposed to be interviewing.Why don't we go back to the first report I filed. Do you know the one?

Do I ever. I probably know it by heart. But, go on.

I'm flattered - and impressed.

I'm bewildered. So enlighten me.

OK. It was a Saturday, after tea at home. I was thinking about driving to the local milk bar for the evening paper. Then quite spontaneously I knew something. And I knew that I knew it with certainty. The only thing I was conscious of at that moment was a conviction that if I left at that time I would see a UFO on the way...

So you up and went, so to speak.

No. I called to my two youngsters, Duncan and Valerie, and asked them if they wanted to go for a drive to see a UFO.

That specific?

That specific. They leaped at the idea and within five minutes we were all watching the most humungous flying object I had ever seen.

A large cigar-shaped object with appendages, four times larger than any aircraft you have ever seen...

Not bad; but NO appendages, fuselage or sticking out bits of any kind. Otherwise, yes; you know the file.

Doug knew the UFO Investigator wasn't above checking the consistency of his story with comments like that, but didn’t worry.

You and your kids watched it for about ten minutes before it disappeared into dense cloud?

About that. Look Andrew, you know that the object came out of low cloud, not more than a thousand metres above the Channel 0 T.V. transmitting tower at Forest Hills, barely two kilometres from our place. It came out on an acute angle, made an instantaneous change of direction, without any gradual arc, to assume a horizontal position above the tower for some time. Then it again instantaneously changed direction to an equally acute angle upwards and disappeared.

And in the meantime...

In the meantime we got out of the car to avoid windscreen problems and each of us independently tried to make objective comparisons...

Like what?

Look, I suggested to the kids that they try to compare it with other things for size and shape - or to count things, like the brightly lit porthole type circles along the whole length of it. I went for counting and estimating length. The windows - or bright lights, whatever - were in pairs in two rows from end to end. I counted to fifty pairs before I got to the mid point and it started moving off.

So at least a couple of hundred lights on that side. Any other lights?

One huge searchlight-bright light at either end of the shape.

But you didn't report that, did you?

Doug was momentarily taken aback. This guy really had done his homework.

That's right actually. It came out in the independent report and interview Duncan had with an investigator from the UFO organisation.

Yes; I read it. Bright youngster, stuck to his story even though it was different from yours.

Not really different; additional. We were doing our own thing. But there were no contradictions.

Andrew McGregor didn't shun eye-ball to eye-ball contact. And neither did Doug Fraser. They looked at each other unflinchingly for some seconds.

Look Doug, I'm really not stirring. I just need to know more. There is something I would like you to do though... In the file somewhere it says you went to a hypnotherapist for a regression to the incident of that UFO sighting. I'd like a copy of the tape and your permission to contact the psychologist involved if I need to?

No problem. I thought for one moment you wanted me to take a lie detector test!

No point really. That would only tell me what you believed to be true, whether it were really like that or not! Look sorry to rush but I realise I've yet to check in at the motel - and being the weekend!

Well what about this evening? You could meet the family. The kids have grown up a bit since their early UFO sightings. Say dinner at the Club?

Really appreciate that. I don't actually enjoy batching in a strange town. I don't think I've met your wife?

No; and you are not likely to. About the time we were thinking of moving from Victoria she decided to visit family in England. Never came back. So, it’s me, Duncan and Valerie.

Very English names.

My wife and I were thoroughbred Poms, as you no doubt guessed from the accent.

Some people call me a thoroughbred bastard, so you're in good company. But we will meet for dinner at 7.00 - OK?

Chapter Two

Religious Search

The old parsonage door creaked and thudded closed as good solid doors should. The rich leadlight panel beside it acted like a prism and sprayed colours in the reception area as the Reverend Neville Terrill wandered in. An observer would have picked him for a professional at something - perhaps even in a service area or business - but not a minister of religion. He was dressed smart casual but definitely not clerical. He could post his impressive two metre frame through the doorway without ducking for headroom - just. But as he stepped into the hallway he paused and looked at his new home. From the old fashioned atrium-style reception area, his office and counselling room was on the left, adjacent to a sitting room, and a high ceiling hallway, clad in a textured wallpaper which no doubt hid a multitude of building sins, led the way to the main family rooms. He sighed. Not the office; not after the day he had put in.

Nev was relatively new to Hund-a-lea. Only a couple of months before he had agreed to take up the ministry of a fairly nondescript and thankfully non-denominational church on the outskirts of the town. Even though he was nearly forty this was his first solo appointment. When he applied he had convinced himself that a small country town would help him find his feet in a parish without too much trauma. Hopefully it would also be kind to Leeanne, after all, she was to be his partner in this venture. And an uninvolved Minister's wife was unheard of. Leeanne had worked in Sydney while he had gone to College as a mature age student. He knew that in one sense he had already made big demands of her - perhaps unasked for and readily given - but there were demands all the same. He hoped there would be something really special in this appointment for his wife.

There was no doubt Leeanne was still searching for something special. There hadn't been enough for her on the farm in New Zealand. The good bits had been the holidays in the Bay of Islands - a place which really spoke to her. Perhaps if she had been able to have children: but that wasn't to be. She had been born with a minute cancer and part of her immature reproductive system had been removed when she was a few weeks old. Perhaps it was an over compensation that she absolutely doted on other people's kids.

Nev took the few steps into the sitting room to rest for a couple of minutes and allow his train of thought to continue. Yes; it was possible Leeanne's frustration about children had something to do with her constant search for a very personal satisfaction in life: hers, not someone else's. Not his. In New Zealand Nev had taken on the family sheep farm with his brother. A few rough seasons and even rougher politics had convinced him that the farm would only support one family - and that wouldn't be his. A clean sweep new beginning was something both he and Leeanne had needed.

Their migration to Australia had allowed a lot of changes. A major constraint on them had always been the opinions of other family members. Now, on the other side of the Tasman Sea they could follow their own star without consulting siblings or seeking parental approval. It had been that sense of freedom which had allowed Nev to look again at a youthful conviction and to try a religious vocation. They had reasoned that it would probably suit Leeanne too because she was very social and had a gifted way with people who had problems. And although they had come from different religious backgrounds, they had a common spirituality and a common view that their mission in life was somehow to help Humanity. Somehow.

As Nev unwound from his favourite club chair he caught a glimpse of himself in the antique oval mirror with its scalloped edges. He was a young forty, he decided. He was well tanned from his outdoor life and not yet thinning on top like his brother. Despite his mood of the moment he did feel good physically. He hadn't given up the daily jogging he had been cajoled into at College - he secretly hoped that would also keep the family paunch at bay. Yes; there was no real reason for not starting life over again with a new challenge.

He dropped his satchel into the study doorway and sauntered along the hall to find Leeanne. He could hear her rummaging in the shade cloth fernery at the back door. He admired her for a minute before speaking. She still had the characteristic vitality of a woman in her thirties. Her dark hair was lustrous and pulled into a single plait down her back. She had a full mature figure but like her husband didn't carry any excess fat. Nev smiled at her city style clothes: he could imagine her dressing like a gypsy when the Hund-a-lean culture captured her. She was one attractive lady.

Hello gorgeous! he muttered in her ear as he ambushed her from behind. Your green thumbs working any miracles yet?

That's nice Honey! I've missed your TLC for a couple of days. But yes. See for yourself. I found a stack of plastic containers behind the shed and re-potting is going to work wonders with most of this stuff. I suspect they may have been kept for perennial splitting for the church fete or street stalls. Most of these are hardy rather than spectacular. I'd like to liven the place up a bit with some rich flowers and foliage. Another thing dearest, and I know we will have to think whether this is feasible, but I would really like to grow some orchids. Judging by the local exhibition last week, they seem to thrive around here.

Leeanne stood up and ran her fingers through Nev's sandy hair, then went on.Anyway, how was your day? Something's put a furrow in your forehead.

That obvious?

And not only today. So what's going on?

Nev sat on the empty orange case which had hidden the plant pot treasure, then looked up at Leeanne more seriously. Oh, it's probably just the first rush of enthusiasm being slightly dampened.

Looks more like someone tipped a bucket of water on it!

Do you remember when I finished college and was all fired up for the Ecumenical Movement - and we reckoned it would be great to be part of some new reformation- style changes uniting the sectarian groups into one vital Christian Church?

Sure. That was why we agreed to look for a non-denominational church ministry in the first place.

And then I thought a country town would have a lot going for it in terms of coming together, because people would at least know each other.

So?

So I've spent the last two days visiting the other pastors, ministers, fathers, parish priests, deacons, curates and what have you. I'm sure they are all committed to their work. But they are also very committed to their own denomination. And they put that a long way ahead of working for Ecumenism - for uniting the churches. If you really want to know I'm disillusioned with the whole scene!

I wouldn't let them hear that - nor would I let them hear you think of the various churches as ‘sectarian groups,’ I think you called them.

Well! They are only lukewarm towards non-denominational groups.

Did they say why?

Indirectly. But I think it is obvious. The non-denominational churches which have gone all charismatic are just siphoning the cream off the mainstream churches. They hold conventions urging Christians who believe they are 'spirit-filled' - or want to be - to come on out: get to where the Holy Spirit is really moving. And people have left in droves, right around the country, as well as the major metropolitan centres. This church is not a vibrant charismatic centre, but I think the other ministers are just waiting to see which way we will go: and specifically, whether we will poach their members.

But you are not exactly a fundamentalist evangelist.

Well, that may be another thing: most of them are. To them I must seem like a modernist liberal and not a part of their solidarity.

OOPS!

You said it! Look Honey, how about we go out tonight. Something decadent ... Could you cope with the Club: there's a band there tonight?

The Club? I think I would rather go down to Ballina - There is one of those charismatic conventions on, calling on all Christians to come and get with the strength!

You vixen! Hope you're not serious.

Leeanne put both of her hands on his shoulders, rubbed his nose with hers and said: I am actually.

With his mind racing back over his earlier reflections about Leeanne, he knew he had to respond - and positively.

OK. You are on. But let's have tea somewhere in Ballina first. I need some time out with my first lady!

This is as good a time as any, Leeanne laughed as she hugged Nev tightly.

Chapter Three

Political Search

Well, Roger! Here's to the next A.L.P. candidate for Heathmont!

Don raised his glass and touched pub champagne glasses with his partner Jenette, as he toasted their friend Roger Whitmore. On the opposite side of the table, a new found acquaintance, Rae Campbell, belatedly raised her glass and with a sincerity that created a stillness around her, smiled at Roger as she said: I've only had a couple of hours to get to know you Roger, but I really wish you well when you go back to Victoria. From the little I know about political campaigning, you'll be torn apart by competing interest groups both within the party and from outside - and your values will take as much of a hiding as your health and family life once you and the other candidates start to make your moves. So here's to you!

That moment of stillness seemed to outlast the round of clinking and sipping. Roger couldn't help thinking to himself that this was a lady who should be standing for State Parliament herself. She had presence; something about her couldn't be denied. He wanted to get to know her better... but perhaps this wasn't the right time. Roger reckoned that Rae would be in her thirties - probably a similar age to himself and his two life long friends. She looked trimmer and fitter than say Don and Jenette, but he thought he could give her a good session on the squash court... Come to think of it, Don had started to develop a pot since he last saw him a year ago in Melbourne. And as Jenette had confided, that probably had a bit to do with his alcohol consumption these days. But none of them looked out of place in their smart casual gear in the dining room of the Club at Hund-a-lea. Then Roger looked again at the lady who had so impressed him and decided he had nothing to lose in seeking her friendship.

You sound as though you have been touched by politics yourself, Rae.

Just slightly. In your home state actually. A dear friend of mine went through the hoops of selection and then campaigning. He earned a terrific swing but missed out by a few hundred votes. He wept with me for a couple of days afterwards. As he unwound I was glad he wasn't elected. He began as a man of principle, but the party machine organised a lot of compromises for all sorts of interest groups in the grope for the last one percent.. The compromises really shook him up. Basically he was too altruistic for the game: he needed to be a lobby group himself. I learned a lot from that. If you are serious - and I gather you must be - I hope you have the strength to stand by your convictions.

Don topped up glasses with a brutish champagne before asking: Are you saying that a major political party is too broad - trying to please too many people? That was one of the things we used to kick around at the ALP Club at Melbourne Uni when the three of us studied there.

Not necessarily. It's not so much the number of people you are pleasing as the number of separate interest groups. Where there are differences between groups there is no homogeneity but there is conflict or compromise: in either case you can soon be dead in the water, politically. Rae spoke with a tremor of conviction, not embarrassment.

There is something uncanny about you Rae, said Roger as he became a little bolder. In a nutshell, that's why I am visiting Don and Jenette. As soon as they heard I was likely to be a candidate, they told me to come up and argue with them. Two things: first they have become single issue freaks; second, they reckon I am going to be morally crucified by the machine.

Rae looked around her new friends with growing respect.So what is it? Australian Aid Abroad campaigns?

Jenette seemed to come to life as she put her glass down: "Not quite. Well things like R’wanda strike a