Earle had friendly written all over him the way that a plague rat had "Hug Me" emblazoned on its fur.

He was in his mid-thirties, tall and pale and thin, with long, sandy hair and rimless glasses, dressed in brown polyester pants, cheap brown shoes, and a light tan shirt. He looked like someone had put a wig on a giraffe and run it through the local Target.

[H]e looked like a real bruiser as he stepped from his car, his big sunglasses giving the impression that a large bug had evolved to the point that it could wear a suit.

A haggard man used one of the huts as a home. He lay on a sagging mattress, his head on his pack, surrounded by rubbish - paper, porcelain shards, food remains and unidentifiable debris. His hand was over his eyes. He looked like a failed soldier. Dirt seemed so worked into him that the lines of his face were like writing.

The very shapes of the trees were like frozen screams.

We'll definitely look to have a public training session of some description and, while it's too early to say where we'll be training, this is certainly something the people of Canberra and surrounding region can look forward to.