Over many years I’ve written and thought a lot about “mateship”, its supposedly special place in Australian national identity and what it might really mean to be “a good mate”. But last week got me thinking about how readily the word “mate” is bandied around here when often it’s weaponised to mean the exact opposite of its true meaning of intended amity and affection.
For this latest contemplative outbreak I’ve got to thank the late Australian novelist Kenneth Cook and another of my favourite writers, Martin Amis, who died in May. And there was a road-rage altercation in my orbit (there are too many in my inner-city neighbourhood) where “mate” featured prominently.
