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early deadline, the  Daily  would now not be able to run pictures of the ball until after the election.

We had an exhausting day. In the morning, The Premier made yet another visit; to pose under the Norfolk Island pines on the beach, while I asked him for a grant for research on saving them. The afternoon was spent doorknocking at Allambie.

Weary footsore, the last thing that Willie and I felt like was attending a formal ball. Reluctantly, we dragged on evening clothes. I found that too many official dinners had made my twenty-year old dinner suit rather tight and decided to leave the coat unbuttoned. We climbed into the blue Commodore and set off up to North Head, where the School of Artillery had lent their facilities for the function.

We drove across the isthmus, up the long hill, past the high walls St Patrick's College, and under the stone archway which marked the boundary of the military area. At the guardhouse, a soldier saluted. Beyond, there was a broad quadrangle, with rows of brick buildings surrounding a gravel parade ground.

After parking on the edge of the parade ground, we walked up to the brightly lit main barracks. We were greeted at the door by a friendly officer in white mess jacket, black trousers with a red stripe, and sparkling medals.

Major Nick Wilson was the second-in-command at  

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