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Councillor; and also by Bob Quail, a large cheerful bear of a man, who had recently joined the ALP at Harbord.

        We stood on the bridge and peered at the murky water below.   Twenty years before, the Shire Council had decided to relcaim much of the swampy land around the lagoon, to provide a level grassed area for playing fields.   They had used household garbage and industrial waste as fill.   Now the lagoon had silted up and the water was polluted with toxic produccts from the old tip, which was hidden beneath neatly mown turf.

        Between the lagoon and the beach, there had once risen a series of mighty sand dunes.   The soft slopes had hidden my adolescent dalliance.   But the Council had found a buyer for the sand, which had been carted away for use as a building material.   The dunes had been replaced by car parks, spaced between a few hard, artificial mounds of rock and grass.   This was the scene, as the officials earnestly requested funds from the State Government to rectify the problems of beach erosion and lagoon pollution--both caused by   Council's previous folly.   

        Landa was blunt; The Council would not be allowed to make a mess like this in the future.   He brushed off the request for funding but promised to have an investigation conducted by the State Pollution Control Commission.  

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