It’s when summer comes around that the state I call home, Queensland, starts to feel like some backwater from a movie about toothless murderers. Or sometimes it feels like I’m in some weird timewarp, where the rest of the world is going through the sexual revolution and anti-Vietnam war protests and we’re the conservative town that disapproves and stays the same. We’re Pleasantville. I refer to two little things about Queensland’s summer. The first is Daylight Savings. The rest of the...