Down Under

In the late afternoon, I stopped at a roadhouse for petrol and a coffee. I studied my book of maps and determined that I would stop for the night in Hay, a modest splat in the desert a little off the highway a couple of hours down the road. As it was the only community in a space of 200 miles, this was not a particually taxing decision. Then, having nothing better to do, I leafed through the index and amused myself, in a very low-key way, by looking for ridiculous names, of which Australia has a respectable plentitude. I am thus able to report that the following are all real places: Wee Waa, Poowong, Burrumbuttock, Suggan Buggan, Boomahnoomoonah, Waaia, Mullumbimby, Ewylamartup, Jiggalong and the supremely satisfying Tittybong.

As I paid, the man asked me where I was headed.
'Hay,' I replied, and was struck by a sudden droll thought. 'And I'd better hurry. Do you know why?'
He gave me a blank look.
'Because I want to make Hay while the sun shines.'
The man's expression did not change.
'I want to make hay while the sun shines,' I repeated with a slight alteration of the emphasis and a more encouraging expression.
The blank look, I realised after a moment, was probably permanent.
'Aw, you won't have any trouble with that,' the man said after a minute's considered thought 'It'll be light for hours yet.'