7 April 2027
Wednesday. The clocks went back on the weekend over in Manly. Perth didn’t bother. Perth never bothers. Perth is my kind of town.
I was worried. My dunny runs on sunset. You get sixty minutes of golden afternoon through the cracks and then, well, it gets dark, and the bush starts making noises it doesn’t make at lunchtime. If they’ve moved the clocks, I said to Kev, have they moved my sunset?
Kev says no. Kev says the dunny has its own sunset, every hour, on the hour, whatever the clocks are doing. Sixty minutes, and the light goes when it goes. Turn up fifteen minutes early and allow about an hour and a half altogether. I said that sounds like witchcraft. Kev says it sounds like lighting.
Some people find the dark bit a little spooky. That’s fair. There’s rustling. There’s whistling. There’s the odd surprise. But nobody leaves my dunny in tears, unless they’re laughing, and that’s the right sort of tears.
I have reset my own clock to Axeman Time. It says “arvo” all day.
— Huge Axeman
