Hangin' tough on the tidal plain

After a week of waving, smiling, saying g'day and spending most of this morning clearing two huge vacant blocks by myself (in 32C heat), I'm finally acknowledged by the locals.
First one, then some, and almost all, and by lunchtime, I've been invited to come out fishing on the tidal flats.
It's a terrific afternoon, and in between billy-tea and the best damper I've ever tasted (cooked in sand and hot coals), the fellas land three baramundi, two salmon and a sea snake.
Meanwhile, the kids have discovered my digital camera, and are amazed when they can see themselves as soon as the shutter is pressed. Technology comes quick in the Territory, but only when you've got the bucks to buy it.
I can't but help cave in to their fascination, and put on a brave face as I hand over several thousand dollars worth of digital SLR to a stack of tiny sand-covered hands. It's a photographer's worst nightmare, and made even worse by the fact that most of the kids struggle to even lift the thing to eye level.
In the end, they take over 200 shots - albeit it with most showing the ground and their feet - and return the camera without a single grain of sand on it.