Dispatches from the sunburned wastelands

My father loved to tell, and we to hear, the story of the Australian sheep-millionaire who strolled into a Rolls-Royce showroom in London; scorned all the smaller models; chose an enormous limousine with a plate-glass panel between the chaffeur and the passengers, and added, cockily, as he counted out the cash, 'That'll stop the sheep from breathing down my neck.'

Bruce Chatwin, The Songlines

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