Annabelle Hickson: A Day in the Country

AS ANNABELLE HICKSON IS DISCOVERING, THE COUNTRY WAY IS ONE OF MANY.

THERE’S THIS STORY that my father-in-law and his friend Billy like to tell about a bigwig city politician who came out to a meeting in a small inland town. Even though it actually happened, it doesn’t matter what the name of the politician was, or the town, because in the re-telling they change the names depending on where they are — and what will get them the biggest laugh. Whether it’s Bourke or Bollan, or Barnaby or Bob, the story always goes like this. The politician fields a question from one of the scruffier members of the crowd. “Yes, the man in the hat, what is your question?” “Have you ever been to Bollan?” asks the man, to which the politician always replies, “No.” “Have you even shorn a sheep?” the man then asks. “No,” says the politician. “Just as I thought,” says the man slowly. “Been nowhere. Done nothing.” And the delighted crowd goes wild. There’s something so pleasing about the subversion of power dynamics in this joke, don’t you think? Obviously country people love it — but I think city people love it, too. It makes them stop for a second and laugh at themselves, and their underlying assumptions that nothing much ever happens beyond the range. And if you don’t think that is the general assumption then try the joke in reverse — because after all, jokes like this only work when the status quo is inverted. A bigwig politician swaggers out on a small stage in western NSW and asks a scruffy member of the crowd: “Have you even been to The University of Sydney?” And then, “Have you ever tried an Argentina syrah?” You’d think you were hearing a story about a horrid man who was deservedly five seconds away from being knocked out by a projectile beer can. That is definitely not a joke. With most of us living in big cities — even more so than when my father-in-law first heard the man in the hat deliver his one-liner — it’s very easy to assume that nothing of much importance ever happens beyond the city limits. I should know. Until I met a particularly handsome farmer, that’s more or less what I thought as well. To my shame, I had absolutely no curiosity about life in the country. Not intentionally. It just never crossed my mind. Only recently at my 20-year school reunion did I think of asking the borders where they grew up. During our years together, I never pictured them having dinner anywhere other than in the boarding house just off the highway. I was completely clueless. It’s quite a sobering realisation. These days I am obviously a country convert. Living in the country has brought me and my family a great deal of wonderful things — freedom, community and daily sightings of those big, beautiful gum trees that grow alongside the river. I’m so lucky to enjoy a way of life that, for many years, I subconsciously belittled. God knows how many other ways of life I am still in the dark about. It makes me shake at the knees. And while I cannot expect to actually live them all, and therefore be able to understand them firsthand, I can at least assume that every single way of life has a smart pair of mates cracking a joke that takes the mickey out of me and my subconscious beliefs. Annabelle Hickson lives on a pecan farm in the Dumaresq Valley, NSW. Follow @annabellehickson on Instagram.