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queue and walked anonymously through a turnstile.   We then found our way to a pavilion where the official guests were being plied with generous quantities of Italian food and drink.

        The local polticians were there:   Aldermen from Manly and Councillors from Warringah, state and federal members of parliament.   Also, there was Al Grassby.

        A former minister for Immigration and now Commissioner for Community Relations, Grassby was resplendent in a purple safari suit which exagerrated his dark Latin features. (He was actually of English descent.)   He greeted me like a brother, and planted a passionate kiss on Gabby's cheek.   He pronounced her full name--Gabrielle--in the French manner, and explained that his own beloved daughter was called Gabriella.   He then whisked her out into the carnival crowd, around the side shows which had been set up outside the main arena.    I followed, with Tom Webster and several of the other politicians.   We found ourselves at the stall which offered swings with a sledge hammer in an attempt to ring the bell at the top of a tower.   Diplomatically, Grassby declined to try his strength.   "Go on Dad," said Gabby.   Feeling foolish, I took off my coat, picked up the hammer, and took a quick swing.   For once, my aim was true and my co-ordination smooth.   All my effort went straight into the target, and the bell above rang loudly.   There was mild applause from my companions.   However, by the time I had

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