The Migrant

When I was a lad, a minimum serve of chips cost around forty cents and with a piece of flake (gummy shark in batter) the total was less than a buck. Within five years the price had doubled. I learned how price was tied to the market fluctuation, partcularly the cost per ton of potatoes. In a period of ten years the owners of the local fish shop had changed from Anglo to Greek to Asian. Jimmy, the first Greek owner made the best hamburgers in the world. It was at this time I started to try and understand migration, and the way migrant families worked, hard, together, to make it in a new country, and make it they did. I never realised, or dreamed that one day I too would be some kind of migrant, expatriate, but first I had to transition from local ittinerant worker to world traveller. This is my story.