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In a Sunburned Country

I'm currently reading 'In a Sunburned Country' by Bill Bryson, in which he tells of his travels in Australia. I've got it as an ebook on my Palm and I've been reading it on and off for the last 18 months or so, because first of all I'm a slow reader, and secondly it's such a good book that it would be a waste to read it quickly. So, instead I like to drag it out. By the time I finally get to the end of it, I'll have forgotten what happened at the beginning, and that way I can start all over again. He makes Australia sound so good that for the first time that I can remember I want to go there. In fact, it even sounds likeable. Here's an excerpt in which he describes how Australians are so fond of talking about their near-death experiences with animals.

They spend half of any conversation insisting that the country's dangers are vastly overrated and that there's nothing to worry about, and the other half telling you how six months ago their Uncle Bob was driving to Mudgee when a tiger snake slid out from under the dashboard and bit him on the groin, but that it's okay now because he's off the life support machine and they've discovered he can communicate with eye blinks.

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