Nothing but the Pub

The Terminus Hotel, at Morgan on the Murray River, South Australia I rock up to the bar of the Terminus Hotel with a message from a mate. His name’s Tony and he’s a water man - a bloke whose enthusiasm for boats, especially wooden sailing boats, knows no plimsoll line. A few months earlier he was sailing his new toy (read ‘obsession’) up the Murray with his son, Tim, and as they were mooring at Morgan the young fella stood on something nasty and slashed his foot. Badly. They wrapped it up (no doubt a bit of gaffer tape was involved) and headed into the pub, a pub they’d never been to before. They were told the town was doctorless on a Saturday – the closest medical help was at the Waikerie Base Hospital 40kms away. And getting there? “Not a problem”, said the Publican, “take my ute. There’s no keys, just turn the lock and it’ll start. Oh, and the windows don't work, the levers are buggered but it’ll get you there. Help yourself, it’s out the back” The