When I was a young cadet journalist, back on a prominent Australian daily newspaper, they would send us “bush.” That was the word. No grand assignment, no breaking scandal. Just bush. They’d hand you the keys to a car that sounded like it had been coughing since birth, pair you with a photographer who smoked until the ashtray gave up, and say, go find characters.
On the road again...
When I was a young cadet journalist, back on a prominent Australian daily newspaper, they would send us “bush.” That was the word. No grand assignment, no breaking scandal. Just bush. They’d hand you the keys to a car that sounded like it had been coughing since birth, pair you with a photographer who smoked until the ashtray gave up, and say, go find characters.