
Some years ago, the Git's niece was married in the old Senate gardens bringing back some fond memories of a visit to the lunatic asylum Canberra in the 1970s*. On this occasion, when wandering outside the dining room for a cigarette on the balcony, the Git detected a distinct whiff of human excrement in the air. Upon remarking this, he was told by the locals it wasn't a remnant from the old days of the Senate sitting there, it was all the new stuff rolling down the hill from the new place.
* In particular a pretty young Irish lass who told me one Sunday night "Yer not to fuck me until after midnight!" Ever the gentleman, the Git complied with her wishes. The frustration of the last hour of waiting was well worth it!