Academic literature on the topic 'Cement industries Australia'

Once a prosperous manufacturing town, Geelong in Victoria, Australia is undergoing a process of deindustrialisation and, in turn, redefining its identity to better retain viability in a globalised world. For instance, the town bid to host a Guggenheim museum on its Eastern Beach shore at the turn of the millennium, and has recently become a UNESCO City of Design (2017). Like so many declining regional industrial towns, Geelong has been undercut by the new economic forces, and has sought a new identity in cultural economies. The ‘Vacant Geelong’ project, which began at Deakin University in 2015 and is ongoing, evolved as a response to vacant industrial architecture in Geelong. Major industries including Ford (vehicles), Alcoa (aluminium), timber sawmills, wool mills, Pilkington Glass, cement works, and the oil refinery once defined the town and its history as an industrial architectural landscape.1 Major industries transformed the architectural and cultural terrain. Despite these cycles of transformation and erasure, and counter to a progressive and chronological approach to change, the ‘Vacant Geelong’ project explored this vacancy of industrial operation, yet presence of industrial architecture. Through inscriptions – artworks, design projects, creative research, installations, texts – it addressed those material realities that did not leave, the industrial structures – silos, ducts, chimneys, warehouses – that give Geelong its continuing industrial architectural character.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to develop an alternative new ternary geopolymer mortar (MKSP) to resolve a traditional mortar problem which exhibits several disadvantages, including poor strengths and surface microcracks and the CO2 air pollution. Design/methodology/approach The MKSP ternary binder was produced using metakaolin (MK), slag (S), and palm oil fuel ash (POFA) activated with an alkaline mixture of sodium silicate (Na2SiO3) and 10 M NaOH in a mass ratio of 2.5. Seven different mix proportions of MK, slag, and POFA were used to fabricate MKSP mortars. The water-to-binder ratio was varied between 0.4 and 0.5. The mortars were heat cured for 2 h at 80°C and then aged in air. Flexural stress and strain, mortars flow and compressive strength were tested. Furthermore, the mortars were characterized using X-ray diffraction (XRD), Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy (FTIR), and scanning electron microscopy (SEM) analyses. Findings The results showed that the sample MKSP6, which contained 40 percent MK, 40 percent slag, and 20 percent POFA, exhibited high compressive strength (52 MPa) without any cracks and flexural strength (6.9 MPa) at 28 days after being cured for 2 h at 80°C; however, the MKSP7 mortar with optimal strength of 55 MPa showed some surface cracks . Further, the results of the XRD, SEM, and FTIR analyses indicated that the MKSP mortars primarily consisted of a crystalline (Si+Al) phase (70 percent) and a smaller amorphous (Si+Ca) phase (30 percent). Research limitations/implications The MKSP ternary geopolymer mix has three limitations as an importance of heat curing for development early strength, POFA content less than 20 percent to gain high normal strength and delaying the sitting time by controlling the slag content or the alkali activator type. Practical implications The use of geopolymer materials binder in a real building is limited and it still under research, Thus, the first model of real applied geopolymer cement in 2008 was the E-Crete model that formed by Zeobond company Australia to take the technology of geopolymer concrete to reality. Zeobond Pty Ltd was founded by Professor Jannie S.J. van (van Deventer et al., 2013), it was used to product precast concrete for the building structure. The second model was PYRAMENT model in 2002 by American cement manufacturer Lone Star Industries which was produced from the development carried out on inorganic alumino-silicate polymers called geopolymer (Palomo et al., 1999). In 2013 the third model was Queensland’s University GCI building with three suspended floors made from structural geopolymer concrete containing slag/fly ash-based geopolymer (Pathak, 2016). In Australia, 2014, the newly completed Brisbane West Wellcamp airport becomes the greenest airport in the world. Cement-free geopolymer concrete was used to save more than 6,600 tons of carbon emissions in the construction of the airport. Therefore, the next century will see cement companies developing alternative binders that are more environmentally friendly from a sustainable development point of view. Originality/value Production of new geopolymer binder of mortar as alternative to traditional cement binder with high early and normal strength from low cost waste materials, less potential of cracking, less energy consumption need and low carbon dioxide emission.

Aims: This paper introduces a sustainable way of using Recycled Glass Powder (RGP) as a cement replacement in concrete. Background: In Australia, almost one million tons of glass waste is collected annually for recycling purpose. However, the inconsistency in chemical composition and the presence of impurities make glass recycling process difficult. Besides, the lack of local recycling plants coupled with high transportation costs makes the recycling process expensive. Objective: For the successful use of recycled glass in concrete for industrial applications, it is therefore, important to characterize the physical and chemical properties of recycled glass collected by the local councils. Furthermore, the effects of replacement levels of cement with recycled glass on the strength and durability properties of concrete need to be assessed as well. Methods: Mechanical strength and durability properties of concrete with 10%, 20% and 30% of RGP as a partial cement replacement were tested and compared with typical concrete and fly ash blend concrete. The relative strength test of mortar was conducted to assess the reactivity of glass powder with the cement. Results: RGP concrete showed an improvement in strength over time like fly ash. Using RGP significantly improved the resistance against chloride penetration with increasing glass powder content. Furthermore, RGP also met the relative strength requirement as per Australian Standard requirement to be considered as a supplementary cementitious material. Conclusion: This research showed that the use of RGP as cement replacement is feasible for replacement level up to 10%. The outcome of this research aims to contribute towards sustainable development by reducing the consumption of cement, as well as reduction of glass waste going into landfill.

This article, written by JPT Technology Editor Chris Carpenter, contains highlights of paper SPE 202439, “Pushing Malaysia’s Drilling Industry Into a New Frontier: How a Distinctive Wellhead Design Enabled Implementation of a Fully Offline Well Cementing Resulting in a Significant Shift in Operational Efficiency,” by Fauzi Abbas and Azrynizam M. Nor, Vestigo, and Daryl Chang, Cameron, a Schlumberger Company, prepared for the 2020 SPE Asia Pacific Oil and Gas Conference and Exhibition, originally scheduled to be held in Perth, Australia, 20–22 October. The paper has not been peer reviewed. Traditionally, rigs are positioned over a well from the moment the surface casing is drilled until the installation of the wellhead tree. This results in the loss of precious time as the rig idles during online cementing. However, in mature Field A offshore Terengganu, Malaysia, a new approach eliminated such inefficiency dramatically. Operational Planning With oil production in Field A initiated in October 2015, historical data on well lithology, formation pressure, and potential issues during drilling were available and were studied to ensure that wells would not experience lost circulation. This preplanning is crucial to ensure that the offline cementing activity meets the operator’s barrier requirements. Petronas Procedures and Guidelines for Upstream Activities (PPGUA 4.0) was used for the development of five subject wells in Field A. In this standard, two well barriers are required during all well activities, including for suspended wells, to prevent uncontrolled outflow from the well to the external environment. For Field A, two barrier types, mechanical and fluid, allowed by PPGUA 4.0 were selected to complement the field’s geological conditions. As defined in PPGUA 4.0, the fluid barrier is the hydrostatic column pressure, which exceeds the flow zone pore pressure, while the mechanical barrier is an element that achieves sealing in the wellbore, such as plugs. The fluid barrier was used because the wells in Field A were not known to have circulation losses. For the development of Field A, the selected rig featured a light-duty crane to assist with equipment spotting on the platform. Once barriers and rig selection are finalized, planning out the drill sequence for rig skidding is imperative. Space required by drillers, cementers, and equipment are among the considerations that affect rig-skid sequence, as well as the necessity of increased manpower. Offline Cementing Equipment and Application In Field A, the casing program was 9⅝×7×3½ in. with a slimhole well design. The wellhead used was a monobore wellhead system with quick connectors. The standard 11-in. nominal wellhead design was used for the wells with no modifications required. All three sections of the casing program were offline cemented. They were the 9⅝-in. surface casing, 7-in. production casing, and 3½-in. tubing. The 9⅝-in. surface casing is threaded to the wellhead housing and was run and landed with the last casing joint. Subsequent wellhead 7-in. casing hangers and a 3½-in. tubing hanger then were run and landed into the compact housing.

Unconventional energy sources have become increasingly important to the global energy mix. These include coal seam gas, shale gas and shale oil. The unconventional gas industry was pioneered in the United States and embraced following the first oil shock in 1973 (Rogers). As has been the case with many global resources (Hiscock), many of the same companies that worked in the USA carried their experience in this industry to early Australian explorations. Recently the USA has secured significant energy security with the development of unconventional energy deposits such as the Marcellus shale gas and the Bakken shale oil (Dobb; McGraw). But this has not come without environmental impact, including contamination to underground water supply (Osborn, Vengosh, Warner, Jackson) and potential greenhouse gas contributions (Howarth, Santoro, Ingraffea; McKenna). The environmental impact of unconventional gas extraction has raised serious public concern about the introduction and growth of the industry in Australia. In coal rich Australia coal seam gas is currently the major source of unconventional gas. Large gas deposits have been found in prime agricultural land along eastern Australia, such as the Liverpool Plains in New South Wales and the Darling Downs in Queensland. Competing land-uses and a series of environmental incidents from the coal seam gas industry have warranted major protest from a coalition of environmentalists and farmers (Berry; McLeish). Conflict between energy companies wanting development and environmentalists warning precaution is an easy script to cast for frontline media coverage. But historical perspectives are often missing in these contemporary debates. While coal mining and natural gas have often received “boosting” historical coverage (Diamond; Wilkinson), and although historical themes of “development” and “rushes” remain predominant when observing the span of the industry (AGA; Blainey), the history of unconventional gas, particularly the history of its environmental impact, has been little studied. Few people are aware, for example, that the first shale gas exploratory well was completed in late 2010 in the Cooper Basin in Central Australia (Molan) and is considered as a “new” frontier in Australian unconventional gas. Moreover many people are unaware that the first coal seam gas wells were completed in 1976 in Queensland. The first four wells offer an important moment for reflection in light of the industry’s recent move into Central Australia. By locating and analysing the first four coal seam gas wells, this essay identifies the roots of the unconventional gas industry in Australia and explores the early environmental impact of these wells. By analysing exploration reports that have been placed online by the Queensland Department of Natural Resources and Mines through the lens of environmental history, the dominant developmental narrative of this industry can also be scrutinised. These narratives often place more significance on economic and national benefits while displacing the environmental and social impacts of the industry (Connor, Higginbotham, Freeman, Albrecht; Duus; McEachern; Trigger). This essay therefore seeks to bring an environmental insight into early unconventional gas mining in Australia. As the author, I am concerned that nearly four decades on and it seems that no one has heeded the warning gleaned from these early wells and early exploration reports, as gas exploration in Australia continues under little scrutiny. Arrival The first four unconventional gas wells in Australia appear at the beginning of the industry world-wide (Schraufnagel, McBane, and Kuuskraa; McClanahan). The wells were explored by Houston Oils and Minerals—a company that entered the Australian mining scene by sharing a mining prospect with International Australian Energy Company (Wiltshire). The International Australian Energy Company was owned by Black Giant Oil Company in the US, which in turn was owned by International Royalty and Oil Company also based in the US. The Texan oilman Robert Kanton held a sixteen percent share in the latter. Kanton had an idea that the Mimosa Syncline in the south-eastern Bowen Basin was a gas trap waiting to be exploited. To test the theory he needed capital. Kanton presented the idea to Houston Oil and Minerals which had the financial backing to take the risk. Shotover No. 1 was drilled by Houston Oil and Minerals thirty miles south-east of the coal mining town of Blackwater. By late August 1975 it was drilled to 2,717 metres, discovered to have little gas, spudded, and, after a spend of $610,000, abandoned. The data from the Shotover well showed that the porosity of the rocks in the area was not a trap, and the Mimosa Syncline was therefore downgraded as a possible hydrocarbon location. There was, however, a small amount of gas found in the coal seams (Benbow 16). The well had passed through the huge coal seams of both the Bowen and Surat basins—important basins for the future of both the coal and gas industries. Mining Concepts In 1975, while Houston Oil and Minerals was drilling the Shotover well, US Steel and the US Bureau of Mines used hydraulic fracture, a technique already used in the petroleum industry, to drill vertical surface wells to drain gas from a coal seam (Methane Drainage Taskforce 102). They were able to remove gas from the coal seam before it was mined and sold enough to make a profit. With the well data from the Shotover well in Australia compiled, Houston returned to the US to research the possibility of harvesting methane in Australia. As the company saw it, methane drainage was “a novel exploitation concept” and the methane in the Bowen Basin was an “enormous hydrocarbon resource” (Wiltshire 7). The Shotover well passed through a section of the German Creek Coal measures and this became their next target. In September 1976 the Shotover well was re-opened and plugged at 1499 meters to become Australia’s first exploratory unconventional gas well. By the end of the month the rig was released and gas production tested. At one point an employee on the drilling operation observed a gas flame “the size of a 44 gal drum” (HOMA, “Shotover # 1” 9). But apart from the brief show, no gas flowed. And yet, Houston Oil and Minerals was not deterred, as they had already taken out other leases for further prospecting (Wiltshire 4). Only a week after the Shotover well had failed, Houston moved the methane search south-east to an area five miles north of the Moura township. Houston Oil and Minerals had researched the coal exploration seismic surveys of the area that were conducted in 1969, 1972, and 1973 to choose the location. Over the next two months in late 1976, two new wells—Kinma No.1 and Carra No.1—were drilled within a mile from each other and completed as gas wells. Houston Oil and Minerals also purchased the old oil exploration well Moura No. 1 from the Queensland Government and completed it as a suspended gas well. The company must have mined the Department of Mines archive to find Moura No.1, as the previous exploration report from 1969 noted methane given off from the coal seams (Sell). By December 1976 Houston Oil and Minerals had three gas wells in the vicinity of each other and by early 1977 testing had occurred. The results were disappointing with minimal gas flow at Kinma and Carra, but Moura showed a little more promise. Here, the drillers were able to convert their Fairbanks-Morse engine driving the pump from an engine run on LPG to one run on methane produced from the well (Porter, “Moura # 1”). Drink This? Although there was not much gas to find in the test production phase, there was a lot of water. The exploration reports produced by the company are incomplete (indeed no report was available for the Shotover well), but the information available shows that a large amount of water was extracted before gas started to flow (Porter, “Carra # 1”; Porter, “Moura # 1”; Porter, “Kinma # 1”). As Porter’s reports outline, prior to gas flowing, the water produced at Carra, Kinma and Moura totalled 37,600 litres, 11,900 and 2,900 respectively. It should be noted that the method used to test the amount of water was not continuous and these amounts were not the full amount of water produced; also, upon gas coming to the surface some of the wells continued to produce water. In short, before any gas flowed at the first unconventional gas wells in Australia at least 50,000 litres of water were taken from underground. Results show that the water was not ready to drink (Mathers, “Moura # 1”; Mathers, “Appendix 1”; HOMA, “Miscellaneous Pages” 21-24). The water had total dissolved solids (minerals) well over the average set by the authorities (WHO; Apps Laboratories; NHMRC; QDAFF). The well at Kinma recorded the highest levels, almost two and a half times the unacceptable standard. On average the water from the Moura well was of reasonable standard, possibly because some water was extracted from the well when it was originally sunk in 1969; but the water from Kinma and Carra was very poor quality, not good enough for crops, stock or to be let run into creeks. The biggest issue was the sodium concentration; all wells had very high salt levels. Kinma and Carra were four and two times the maximum standard respectively. In short, there was a substantial amount of poor quality water produced from drilling and testing the three wells. Fracking Australia Hydraulic fracturing is an artificial process that can encourage more gas to flow to the surface (McGraw; Fischetti; Senate). Prior to the testing phase at the Moura field, well data was sent to the Chemical Research and Development Department at Halliburton in Oklahoma, to examine the ability to fracture the coal and shale in the Australian wells. Halliburton was the founding father of hydraulic fracture. In Oklahoma on 17 March 1949, operating under an exclusive license from Standard Oil, this company conducted the first ever hydraulic fracture of an oil well (Montgomery and Smith). To come up with a program of hydraulic fracturing for the Australian field, Halliburton went back to the laboratory. They bonded together small slabs of coal and shale similar to Australian samples, drilled one-inch holes into the sample, then pressurised the holes and completed a “hydro-frac” in miniature. “These samples were difficult to prepare,” they wrote in their report to Houston Oil and Minerals (HOMA, “Miscellaneous Pages” 10). Their program for fracturing was informed by a field of science that had been evolving since the first hydraulic fracture but had rapidly progressed since the first oil shock. Halliburton’s laboratory test had confirmed that the model of Perkins and Kern developed for widths of hydraulic fracture—in an article that defined the field—should also apply to Australian coals (Perkins and Kern). By late January 1977 Halliburton had issued Houston Oil and Minerals with a program of hydraulic fracture to use on the central Queensland wells. On the final page of their report they warned: “There are many unknowns in a vertical fracture design procedure” (HOMA, “Miscellaneous Pages” 17). In July 1977, Moura No. 1 became the first coal seam gas well hydraulically fractured in Australia. The exploration report states: “During July 1977 the well was killed with 1% KCL solution and the tubing and packer were pulled from the well … and pumping commenced” (Porter 2-3). The use of the word “kill” is interesting—potassium chloride (KCl) is the third and final drug administered in the lethal injection of humans on death row in the USA. Potassium chloride was used to minimise the effect on parts of the coal seam that were water-sensitive and was the recommended solution prior to adding other chemicals (Montgomery and Smith 28); but a word such as “kill” also implies that the well and the larger environment were alive before fracking commenced (Giblett; Trigger). Pumping recommenced after the fracturing fluid was unloaded. Initially gas supply was very good. It increased from an average estimate of 7,000 cubic feet per day to 30,000, but this only lasted two days before coal and sand started flowing back up to the surface. In effect, the cleats were propped open but the coal did not close and hold onto them which meant coal particles and sand flowed back up the pipe with diminishing amounts of gas (Walters 12). Although there were some interesting results, the program was considered a failure. In April 1978, Houston Oil and Minerals finally abandoned the methane concept. Following the failure, they reflected on the possibilities for a coal seam gas industry given the gas prices in Queensland: “Methane drainage wells appear to offer no economic potential” (Wooldridge 2). At the wells they let the tubing drop into the hole, put a fifteen foot cement plug at the top of the hole, covered it with a steel plate and by their own description restored the area to its “original state” (Wiltshire 8). Houston Oil and Minerals now turned to “conventional targets” which included coal exploration (Wiltshire 7). A Thousand Memories The first four wells show some of the critical environmental issues that were present from the outset of the industry in Australia. The process of hydraulic fracture was not just a failure, but conducted on a science that had never been tested in Australia, was ponderous at best, and by Halliburton’s own admission had “many unknowns”. There was also the role of large multinationals providing “experience” (Briody; Hiscock) and conducting these tests while having limited knowledge of the Australian landscape. Before any gas came to the surface, a large amount of water was produced that was loaded with a mixture of salt and other heavy minerals. The source of water for both the mud drilling of Carra and Kinma, as well as the hydraulic fracture job on Moura, was extracted from Kianga Creek three miles from the site (HOMA, “Carra # 1” 5; HOMA, “Kinma # 1” 5; Porter, “Moura # 1”). No location was listed for the disposal of the water from the wells, including the hydraulic fracture liquid. Considering the poor quality of water, if the water was disposed on site or let drain into a creek, this would have had significant environmental impact. Nobody has yet answered the question of where all this water went. The environmental issues of water extraction, saline water and hydraulic fracture were present at the first four wells. At the first four wells environmental concern was not a priority. The complexity of inter-company relations, as witnessed at the Shotover well, shows there was little time. The re-use of old wells, such as the Moura well, also shows that economic priorities were more important. Even if environmental information was considered important at the time, no one would have had access to it because, as handwritten notes on some of the reports show, many of the reports were “confidential” (Sell). Even though coal mines commenced filing Environmental Impact Statements in the early 1970s, there is no such documentation for gas exploration conducted by Houston Oil and Minerals. A lack of broader awareness for the surrounding environment, from floral and faunal health to the impact on habitat quality, can be gleaned when reading across all the exploration reports. Nearly four decades on and we now have thousands of wells throughout the world. Yet, the challenges of unconventional gas still persist. The implications of the environmental history of the first four wells in Australia for contemporary unconventional gas exploration and development in this country and beyond are significant. Many environmental issues were present from the beginning of the coal seam gas industry in Australia. Owning up to this history would place policy makers and regulators in a position to strengthen current regulation. The industry continues to face the same challenges today as it did at the start of development—including water extraction, hydraulic fracturing and problems associated with drilling through underground aquifers. Looking more broadly at the unconventional gas industry, shale gas has appeared as the next target for energy resources in Australia. Reflecting on the first exploratory shale gas wells drilled in Central Australia, the chief executive of the company responsible for the shale gas wells noted their deliberate decision to locate their activities in semi-desert country away from “an area of prime agricultural land” and conflict with environmentalists (quoted in Molan). Moreover, the journalist Paul Cleary recently complained about the coal seam gas industry polluting Australia’s food-bowl but concluded that the “next frontier” should be in “remote” Central Australia with shale gas (Cleary 195). It appears that preference is to move the industry to the arid centre of Australia, to the ecologically and culturally unique Lake Eyre Basin region (Robin and Smith). Claims to move the industry away from areas that might have close public scrutiny disregard many groups in the Lake Eyre Basin, such as Aboriginal rights to land, and appear similar to other industrial projects that disregard local inhabitants, such as mega-dams and nuclear testing (Nixon). References AGA (Australian Gas Association). “Coal Seam Methane in Australia: An Overview.” AGA Research Paper 2 (1996). Apps Laboratories. “What Do Your Water Test Results Mean?” Apps Laboratories 7 Sept. 2012. 1 May 2013 ‹http://appslabs.com.au/downloads.htm›. Benbow, Dennis B. “Shotover No. 1: Lithology Report for Houston Oil and Minerals Corporation.” November 1975. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 5457_2. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines 4 June 2012. 1 May 2013 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=5457&COLLECTION_ID=999›. Berry, Petrina. “Qld Minister Refuses to Drink CSG Water.” news.com.au, 22 Apr. 2013. 1 May 2013 ‹http://www.news.com.au/breaking-news/national/qld-minister-refuses-to-drink-csg-water/story-e6frfku9-1226626115742›. Blainey, Geofrey. The Rush That Never Ended: A History of Australian Mining. Carlton: Melbourne University Publishing, 2003. Briody, Dan. The Halliburton Agenda: The Politics of Oil and Money. Singapore: Wiley, 2004. Cleary, Paul. Mine-Field: The Dark Side of Australia’s Resource Rush. Collingwood: Black Inc., 2012. Connor, Linda, Nick Higginbotham, Sonia Freeman, and Glenn Albrecht. “Watercourses and Discourses: Coalmining in the Upper Hunter Valley, New South Wales.” Oceania 78.1 (2008): 76-90. Diamond, Marion. “Coal in Australian History.” Coal and the Commonwealth: The Greatness of an Australian Resource. Eds. Peter Knights and Michael Hood. St Lucia: University of Queensland, 2009. 23-45. 20 Apr. 2013 ‹http://www.peabodyenergy.com/mm/files/News/Publications/Special%20Reports/coal_and_commonwealth%5B1%5D.pdf›. Dobb, Edwin. “The New Oil Landscape.” National Geographic (Mar. 2013): 29-59. Duus, Sonia. “Coal Contestations: Learning from a Long, Broad View.” Rural Society Journal 22.2 (2013): 96-110. Fischetti, Mark. “The Drillers Are Coming.” Scientific American (July 2010): 82-85. Giblett, Rod. “Terrifying Prospects and Resources of Hope: Minescapes, Timescapes and the Aesthetics of the Future.” Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies 23.6 (2009): 781-789. Hiscock, Geoff. Earth Wars: The Battle for Global Resources. Singapore: Wiley, 2012. HOMA (Houston Oil and Minerals of Australia). “Carra # 1: Well Completion Report.” July 1977. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 6054_1. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 21 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6054&COLLECTION_ID=999›. ———. “Kinma # 1: Well Completion Report.” August 1977. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 6190_2. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 21 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6190&COLLECTION_ID=999›. ———. “Miscellaneous Pages. Including Hydro-Frac Report.” August 1977. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 6190_17. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 31 May 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6190&COLLECTION_ID=999›. ———. “Shotover # 1: Well Completion Report.” March 1977. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 5457_1. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 22 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=5457&COLLECTION_ID=999›. Howarth, Robert W., Renee Santoro, and Anthony Ingraffea. “Methane and the Greenhouse-Gas Footprint of Natural Gas from Shale Formations: A Letter.” Climatic Change 106.4 (2011): 679-690. Mathers, D. “Appendix 1: Water Analysis.” 1-2 August 1977. Brisbane: Government Chemical Laboratory. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 6054_4. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 21 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6054&COLLECTION_ID=999›. ———. “Moura # 1: Testing Report Appendix D Fluid Analyses.” 2 Aug. 1977. Brisbane: Government Chemical Laboratory. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 5991_5. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 22 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=5991&COLLECTION_ID=999›. McClanahan, Elizabeth A. “Coalbed Methane: Myths, Facts, and Legends of Its History and the Legislative and Regulatory Climate into the 21st Century.” Oklahoma Law Review 48.3 (1995): 471-562. McEachern, Doug. “Mining Meaning from the Rhetoric of Nature—Australian Mining Companies and Their Attitudes to the Environment at Home and Abroad.” Policy Organisation and Society (1995): 48-69. McGraw, Seamus. The End of Country. New York: Random House, 2011. McKenna, Phil. “Uprising.” Matter 21 Feb. 2013. 1 Mar. 2013 ‹https://www.readmatter.com/a/uprising/›.McLeish, Kathy. “Farmers to March against Coal Seam Gas.” ABC News 27 Apr. 2012. 22 Apr. 2013 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-04-27/farmers-to-march-against-coal-seam-gas/3977394›. Methane Drainage Taskforce. Coal Seam Methane. Sydney: N.S.W. Department of Mineral Resources and Office of Energy, 1992. Molan, Lauren. “A New Shift in the Global Energy Scene: Australian Shale.” Gas Today Online. 4 Nov. 2011. 3 May 2012 ‹http://gastoday.com.au/news/a_new_shift_in_the_global_energy_scene_australian_shale/064568/›. Montgomery, Carl T., and Michael B. Smith. “Hydraulic Fracturing: History of an Enduring Technology.” Journal of Petroleum Technology (2010): 26-32. 30 May 2012 ‹http://www.spe.org/jpt/print/archives/2010/12/10Hydraulic.pdf›. NHMRC (National Health and Medical Research Council). National Water Quality Management Strategy: Australian Drinking Water Guidelines 6. Canberra: Australian Government, 2004. 7 Sept. 2012 ‹http://www.nhmrc.gov.au/guidelines/publications/eh52›. Nixon, Rob. “Unimagined Communities: Developmental Refugees, Megadams and Monumental Modernity.” New Formations 69 (2010): 62-80. Osborn, Stephen G., Avner Vengosh, Nathaniel R. Warner, and Robert B. Jackson. “Methane Contamination of Drinking Water Accompanying Gas-Well Drilling and Hydraulic Fracturing.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 108.20 (2011): 8172-8176. Perkins, T.K., and L.R. Kern. “Widths of Hydraulic Fractures.” Journal of Petroleum Technology 13.9 (1961): 937-949. Porter, Seton M. “Carra # 1:Testing Report, Methane Drainage of the Baralaba Coal Measures, A.T.P. 226P, Central Queensland, Australia.” Oct. 1977. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 6054_7. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 21 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6054&COLLECTION_ID=999›. ———. “Kinma # 1: Testing Report, Methane Drainage of the Baralaba Coal Measures, A.T.P. 226P, Central Queensland, Australia.” Oct. 1977. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 6190_16. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 21 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6190&COLLECTION_ID=999›. ———. “Moura # 1: Testing Report: Methane Drainage of the Baralaba Coal Measures: A.T.P. 226P, Central Queensland, Australia.” Oct. 1977. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 6190_15. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 21 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6190&COLLECTION_ID=999›. QDAFF (Queensland Department of Agriculture, Fisheries and Forestry). “Interpreting Water Analysis for Crop and Pasture.” 1 Aug. 2012. 1 May 2013 ‹http://www.daff.qld.gov.au/ 26_4347.htm›. Robin, Libby, and Mike Smith. “Prologue.” Desert Channels: The Impulse To Conserve. Eds. Libby Robin, Chris Dickman and Mandy Martin. Collingwood: CSIRO Publishing, 2010. XIII-XVII. Rogers, Rudy E. Coalbed Methane: Principles and Practice. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hill, 1994. Sell, B.H. “T.E.P.L. Moura No.1 Well Completion Report.” October 1969. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 2899_1. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 26 Feb. 2013 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=2899&COLLECTION_ID=999›. Senate. Management of the Murray Darling Basin: Interim Report: The Impact of Coal Seam Gas on the Management of the Murray Darling Basin. Canberra: Rural Affairs and Transport References Committee, 2011. Schraufnagel, Richard, Richard McBane, and Vello Kuuskraa. “Coalbed Methane Development Faces Technology Gaps.” Oil & Gas Journal 88.6 (1990): 48-54. Trigger, David. “Mining, Landscape and the Culture of Development Ideology in Australia.” Ecumene 4 (1997): 161-180. Walters, Ronald L. Letter to Dennis Benbow. 29 August 1977. In Seton M. Porter, “Moura # 1: Testing Report: Methane Drainage of the Baralaba Coal Measures: A.T.P. 226P, Central Queensland, Australia.” October 1977, 11-14. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports. Company Report 6190_15. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 21 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6190&COLLECTION_ID=999›. WHO (World Health Organization). International Standards for Drinking-Water. 3rd Ed. Geneva, 1971. Wilkinson, Rick. A Thirst for Burning: The Story of Australia's Oil Industry. Sydney: David Ell Press, 1983. Wiltshire, M.J. “A Review to ATP 233P, 231P (210P) – Bowen/Surat Basins, Queensland for Houston Oil Minerals Australia, Inc.” 19 Jan. 1979. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports Database. Company Report 6816. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 21 Feb. 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6816&COLLECTION_ID=999›. Wooldridge, L.C.P. “Methane Drainage in the Bowen Basin – Queensland.” 25 Aug. 1978. Queensland Digital Exploration Reports Database. Company Report 6626_1. Brisbane: Queensland Department of Resources and Mines. 31 May 2012 ‹https://qdexguest.deedi.qld.gov.au/portal/site/qdex/search?REPORT_ID=6626&COLLECTION_ID=999›.

Summary Carbon dioxide (CO2) capture from industrial sources including coal combustion, gas processing, cement or steel production, blue hydrogen, or direct air capture, and subsequent geological storage is part of the transition to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Unconventional and conventional reservoirs provide opportunities for beneficial use such as enhanced recovery, supercritical CO2 (ScCO2) fracturing, and storage of gases such as CO2 and ancillary gases, or potentially hydrogen. The purpose of this study is to use Australian unconventional rock packages to understand the controls on CO2 reactivity and mineral trapping (the most secure form of storage) and compare the potential for CO2 storage. Characterization of core from the Surat, Eromanga, and Cooper basins, Australia, is used to populate CO2 and production water-rock reactivity models. Sensitivity to production water composition and temperature was also tested. Coal seam gas (CSG) reservoir interburden ranged from clay-rich mudstones to interlaminated sandstone and mudstone, and calcite cemented sandstones. The coal seam interburden samples contained high plagioclase and chlorite content. They were predicted to alter to carbonates calcite, ankerite, siderite, and dawsonite mineral trapping CO2. After 30 years, net mineral trapping varied from −0.1 to +0.3 kg CO2/m3, and pH was 4.6–4.9. Net mineral trapping after 1,000 years varied from 5.7 to 16.3 kg CO2/m3 and was 17.1 kg CO2/m3 with higher salinity water. The mineral content had the main control with different lithologies decreasing mineral trapping by 41 or 35% compared with a base case. Overlying plagioclase-rich sandstone trapped 17.1 kg CO2/m3 as calcite, ankerite, dawsonite, and siderite after 1,000 years with the pH increasing to 6. For the quartz-rich oil reservoir sandstone, however, only 0.3 kg CO2/m3 was trapped after 1,000 years. Gas shale and marine black oil shales contained high mica, chlorite, and feldspar content that could be converted to carbonate minerals, mineral trapping CO2. A marine black oil shale mineral trapped 8.3 and 13.9 kg CO2/m3 after 30 and 1,000 years, respectively, as siderite and ankerite. Unconventional reservoirs have a strong potential for mineral trapping during CO2 storage.

Currently, approximately 1.4 billion tons per year of iron ore tailing wastes (IOT) are generated, mainly in Australia, Brazil, and China. This work describes the characterization and application of two typical IOT, i.e., fine and coarse wastes. The physicochemical characterization of these IOT by different techniques such as XRF (X-ray fluorescence), XRD (X-ray diffraction), Mössbauer spectroscopy, and granulometry, indicates for the fine tailing a composition of Fe2O3/FeOOH (10-55%), SiO2 (18-65%) and Al2O3 (up to 15%) with particles of 6-40 μm, whereas the coarse tailing presents 40-150 μm particles with the composition of 8-48% Fe2O3/FeOOH, 30-90% SiO2 and Al2O3 (up to 20%). The main IOT applications discussed in this review are related to civil construction (aggregates for concrete, mortar, Portland cement additives), ceramic industry, geopolymer, synthesis of new materials such as zeolites, mesoporous silica, carbon nanotubes, adsorbents, catalysts for different reactions, in batteries and in fuel cells. It was also carried out an analysis of patents related to IOT applications and the main technological and market barriers that hinder the industrial and commercial uses of these wastes.

4D surface seismic monitoring is a standard method for reservoir surveillance during production of hydrocarbons or COlt;subgt;2lt;/subgt; injection. However, land 4D seismic acquisition is often associated with high cost and disruptions to industrial operation or agricultural activities in the area of acquisition. An alternative technique for time-lapse monitoring of the subsurface is 3D VSP, which becomes particularly attractive when used with distributed acoustic fiber optic sensors (DAS) installed in wells. The advantages of 3D DAS VSP include its relatively low cost, minimal footprint on the local area during acquisition, and superior spatial resolution compared to the resolution of geophones. The potential of this technique is explored by processing and analysing multi-well 3D DAS VSP data acquired at the CO2CRC Otway Project site in Victoria, Australia. The DAS data were recorded using an engineered fiber with enhanced backscattering cemented behind the casing of five wells. The data from each well are processed individually using the same processing flow and then migrated using a 3D migration code tailored to DAS data. Having DAS along the full extent of multiple wells ensures adequate seismic coverage of the area of CO2 injection. The migrated images provide detailed information about subsurface up to 700 m away from a well and up to 2 km depth. The images are consistent with previously acquired geophone VSP and surface seismic data. The quality of the 3D DAS VSP imaging is comparable or superior to the quality of conventional imaging using geophone data. Therefore, 3D DAS VSP is demonstrably an optimal solution for reservoir monitoring.

Introduction The decline of marriage in the West has been extensively researched over the last three decades (Carmichael and Whittaker; de Vaus; Coontz; Beck-Gernshein). Indeed, it was fears that the institution would be further eroded by the legalisation of same sex unions internationally that provided the impetus for the Australian government to amend the Marriage Act (1961). These amendments in 2004 sought to strengthen marriage by explicitly defining, for the first time, marriage as a legal partnership between one man and one woman. The subsequent heated debates over the discriminatory nature of this definition have been illuminating, particularly in the way they have highlighted the ongoing social significance of marriage, even at a time it is seen to be in decline. Demographic research about partnering practices (Carmichael and Whittaker; Simons; Parker; Penman) indicates that contemporary marriages are more temporary, fragile and uncertain than in previous generations. Modern marriages are now less about a permanent and “inescapable” union between a dominant man and a submissive female for the purposes of authorised sex, legal progeny and financial security, and more about a commitment between two social equals for the mutual exchange of affection and companionship (Croome). Less research is available, however, about how couples themselves reconcile the inherited constructions of romantic love as selfless and unending, with trends that clearly indicate that romantic love is not forever, ideal or exclusive. Civil marriage ceremonies provide one source of data about representations of love. Civil unions constituted almost 70 per cent of all marriages in Australia in 2010, according to the Australian Bureau of Statistics. The civil marriage ceremony has both a legal and symbolic role. It is a legal contract insofar as it prescribes a legal arrangement with certain rights and responsibilities between two consenting adults and outlines an expectation that marriage is voluntarily entered into for life. The ceremony is also a public ritual that requires couples to take what are usually private feelings for each other and turn them into a public performance as a way of legitimating their relationship. Consistent with the conventions of performance, couples generally customise the rest of the ceremony by telling the story of their courtship, and in so doing they often draw upon the language and imagery of the Western Romantic tradition to convey the personal meaning and social significance of their decision. This paper explores how couples construct the idea of love in their relationship, first by examining the western history of romantic love and then by looking at how this discourse is invoked by Australians in the course of developing civil marriage ceremonies in collaboration with the author. A History of Romantic Love There are many definitions of romantic love, but all share similar elements including an intense emotional and physical attraction, an idealisation of each other, and a desire for an enduring and unending commitment that can overcome all obstacles (Gottschall and Nordlund; Janowiak and Fischer). Romantic love has historically been associated with heightened passions and intense almost irrational or adolescent feelings. Charles Lindholm’s list of clichés that accompany the idea of romantic love include: “love is blind, love overwhelms, a life without love is not worth living, marriage should be for love alone and anything less is worthless and a sham” (5). These elements, which invoke love as sacred, unending and unique, perpetuate past cultural associations of the term. Romantic love was first documented in Ancient Rome where intense feelings were seen as highly suspect and a threat to the stability of the family, which was the primary economic, social and political unit. Roman historian Plutarch viewed romantic love based upon strong personal attraction as disruptive to the family, and he expressed a fear that romantic love would become the norm for Romans (Lantz 352). During the Middle Ages romantic love emerged as courtly love and, once again, the conventions that shaped its expression grew out of an effort to control excessive emotions and sublimate sexual desire, which were seen as threats to social stability. Courtly love, according to Marilyn Yalom, was seen as an “irresistible and inexhaustible passion; a fatal love that overcomes suffering and even death” (66). Feudal social structures had grounded marriage in property, while the Catholic Church had declared marriage a sacrament and a ceremony through which God’s grace could be obtained. In this context courtly love emerged as a way of dealing with the conflict between the individual and family choices over the martial partner. Courtly love is about a pure ideal of love in which the knight serves his unattainable lady, and, by carrying out feats in her honour, reaches spiritual perfection. The focus on the aesthetic ideal was a way to fulfil male and female emotional needs outside of marriage, while avoiding adultery. Romantic love re-appeared again in the mid-eighteenth century, but this time it was associated with marriage. Intellectuals and writers led the trend normalising romantic love in marriage as a reaction to the Enlightenment’s valorisation of reason, science and materialism over emotion. Romantics objected to the pragmatism and functionality induced by industrialisation, which they felt destroyed the idea of the mysterious and transcendental nature of love, which could operate as a form of secular salvation. Love could not be bought or sold, argued the Romantics, “it is mysterious, true and deep, spontaneous and compelling” (Lindholm 5). Romantic love also emerged as an expression of the personal autonomy and individualisation that accompanied the rise of industrial society. As Lanz suggests, romantic love was part of the critical reflexivity of the Enlightenment and a growing belief that individuals could find self actualisation through the expression and expansion of their “emotional and intellectual capacities in union with another” (354). Thus it was romantic love, which privileges the feelings and wishes of an individual in mate selection, that came to be seen as a bid for freedom by the offspring of the growing middle classes coerced into marriage for financial or property reasons. Throughout the 19th century romantic love was seen as a solution to the dehumanising forces of industrialisation and urbanisation. The growth of the competitive workplace—which required men to operate in a restrained and rational manner—saw an increase in the search for emotional support and intimacy within the domestic domain. It has been argued that “love was the central preoccupation of middle class men from the 1830s until the end of the 19th century” (Stearns and Knapp 771). However, the idealisation of the aesthetic and purity of love impacted marriage relations by casting the wife as pure and marital sex as a duty. As a result, husbands pursued sexual and romantic relationships outside marriage. It should be noted that even though love became cemented as the basis for marriage in the 19th century, romantic love was still viewed suspiciously by religious groups who saw strong affection between couples as an erosion of the fundamental role of the husband in disciplining his wife. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries romantic love was further impacted by urbanisation and migration, which undermined the emotional support provided by extended families. According to Stephanie Coontz, it was the growing independence and mobility of couples that saw romantic love in marriage consolidated as the place in which an individual’s emotional and social needs could be fully satisfied. Coontz says that the idea that women could only be fulfilled through marriage, and that men needed women to organise their social life, reached its heights in the 1950s (25-30). Changes occurred to the structure of marriage in the 1960s when control over fertility meant that sex was available outside of marriage. Education, equality and feminism also saw women reject marriage as their only option for fulfilment. Changes to Family Law Acts in western jurisdictions in the 1970s provided for no-fault divorce, and as divorce lost its stigma it became acceptable for women to leave failing marriages. These social shifts removed institutional controls on marriage and uncoupled the original sexual, emotional and financial benefits packaged into marriage. The resulting individualisation of personal lifestyle choices for men and women disrupted romantic conventions, and according to James Dowd romantic love came to be seen as an “investment” in the “future” that must be “approached carefully and rationally” (552). It therefore became increasingly difficult to sustain the idea of love as a powerful, mysterious and divine force beyond reason. Methodology In seeking to understand how contemporary partnering practices are reconstituting romantic love, I draw upon anecdotal data gathered over a nine-year period from my experiences as a marriage celebrant. In the course of personalising marriage ceremonies, I pose a series of questions designed to assist couples to explain the significance of their relationship. I generally ask brides and grooms why they love their fiancé, why they want to legalise their relationship, what they most treasure about their partner, and how their lives have been changed by their relationship. These questions help couples to reflexively interrogate their own relationship, and by talking about their commitment in concrete terms, they produce the images and descriptions that can be used to describe for guests the internal motivations and sentiments that have led to their decision to marry. I have had couples, when prompted to explain how they know the other person loves them say, in effect: “I know that he loves me because he brings me a cup of coffee every morning” or “I know that she loves me because she takes care of me so well.” These responses are grounded in a realism that helps to convey a sense of sincerity and authenticity about the relationship to the couple’s guests. This realism also helps to address the cynicism about the plausibility of enduring love. The brides and grooms in this sample of 300 couples were a socially, culturally and economically diverse group, and they provided a wide variety of responses ranging from deeply nuanced insights into the nature of their relationship, to admissions that their feelings were so private and deeply felt that words were insufficient to convey their significance. Reoccurring themes, however, emerged across the cases, and it is evident that even as marriage partnerships may be entered into for a variety of reasons, romantic love remains the mechanism by which couples talk of their feelings for each other. Australian Love and Marriage Australians' attitudes to romantic love and marriage have, understandably, been shaped by western understandings of romantic love. It is evident, however, that the demands of late modern capitalist society, with its increased literacy, economic independence and sexual equality between men and women, have produced marriage as a negotiable contract between social equals. For some, like Carol Pateman, this sense of equality within marriage may be illusory. Nonetheless, the drive for individual self-fulfilment by both the bride and groom produces a raft of challenges to traditional ideas of marriage as couples struggle to find a balance between independence and intimacy; between family and career; and between pursuing personal goals and the goals of their partners. This shift in the nature of marriage has implications for the “quest for undying romantic love,” which according to Anthony Giddens has been replaced by other forms of relationship, "each entered into for its own sake, for what can be derived by each person from a sustained association with another; and which is continued only in so far as it is thought by both parties to deliver enough satisfactions for each individual to stay within it” (qtd. in Lindholm 6). The impact of these social changes on the nature of romantic love in marriage is evident in how couples talk about their relationship in the course of preparing a ceremony. Many couples describe the person they are marrying as their best friend, and friendship is central to their commitment. This description supports research by V.K. Oppenheimer which indicates that many contemporary couples have a more “egalitarian collaborative approach to marriage” (qtd. in Carmichael and Whittaker 25). It is also standard for couples to note in ceremonies that they make each other happy and contented, with many commenting upon how their partners have helped to bring focus and perspective to their work-oriented lives. These comments tend to invoke marriage as a refuge from the isolation, competition, and dehumanising elements of workplaces. Since emotional support is central to the marriage contract, it is not surprising that care for each other is another reoccurring theme in ceremonies. Many brides and grooms not only explicitly say they are well taken care of by their partner, but also express admiration for their partner’s treatment of their families and friends. This behaviour appears to be seen as an indicator of the individual’s capacity for support and commitment to family values. Many couples admire partner’s kindness, generosity and level of personal self-sacrifice in maintaining the relationship. It is also not uncommon for brides and grooms to say they have been changed by their love: become kinder, more considerate and more tolerant. Honesty, communication skills and persistence are also attributes that are valued. Brides and grooms who have strong communication skills are also praised. This may refer to interpersonal competency and the willingness to acquire the skills necessary to negotiate the endless compromises in contemporary marriage now that individualisation has undermined established rules, rituals and roles. Persistence and the ability not to be discouraged by setbacks is also a reoccurring theme, and this connects with the idea that marriage is work. Many couples promise to grow together in their marriage and to both take responsibility for the health of their relationship. This promise implies awareness that marriage is not the fantasy of happily ever after produced in romantic popular culture, but rather an arrangement that requires hard work and conscious commitment, particularly in building a union amidst many competing options and distractions. Many couples talk about their relationship in terms of companionship and shared interests, values and goals. It is also not uncommon for couples to say that they admire their partner for supporting them to achieve their life goals or for exposing them to a wider array of lifestyle choices and options like travel or study. These examples of interdependence appear to make explicit that couples still see marriage as a vehicle for personal freedom and self-realisation. The death of love is also alluded to in marriage ceremonies. Couples talk of failed past relationships, but these are produced positively as a mechanism that enables the couple to know that they have now found an enduring relationship. It is also evident that for many couples the decision to marry is seen as the formalisation of a preexisting commitment rather than the gateway to a new life. This is consistent with figures that show that 72 per cent of Australian couples chose to cohabit before marriage (Simons 48), and that cohabitation has become the “normative pathway to marriage” (Penman 26). References to children also feature in marriage ceremonies, and for the couples I have worked with marriage is generally seen as the pre-requisite for children. Couples also often talk about “being ready” for marriage. This seems to refer to being financially prepared. Robyn Parker citing the research of K. Edin concludes that for many modern couples “rushing into marriage before being ‘set’ is irresponsible—marrying well (in the sense of being well prepared) is the way to avoid divorce” (qtd. in Parker 81). From this overview of reoccurring themes in the production of Australian ceremonies it is clear that romantic love continues to be associated with marriage. However, couples describe a more grounded and companionable attachment. These more practical and personalised sentiments serve to meet both the public expectation that romantic love is a precondition for marriage, while also avoiding the production of romantic love in the ceremony as an empty cliché. Grounded descriptions of love reveal that attraction does not have to be overwhelming and unconquerable. Indeed, couples who have lived together and are intimately acquainted with each other’s habits and disposition, appear to be most comfortable expressing their commitment to each other in more temperate, but no less deeply felt, terms. Conclusion This paper has considered how brides and grooms constitute romantic love within the shifting partnering practices of contemporary Australia. It is evident “in the midst of significant social and economic change and at a time when individual rights and freedom of choice are important cultural values” marriage remains socially significant (Simons 50). This significance is partially conveyed through the language of romantic love, which, while freighted with an array of cultural and historical associations, remains the lingua franca of marriage, perhaps because as Roberto Unger observes, romantic love is “the most influential mode of moral vision in our culture” (qtd. in Lindholm 5). It is thus possible to conclude, that while marriage may be declining and becoming more fragile and impermanent, the institution remains important to couples in contemporary Australia. Moreover, the language and imagery of romantic love, which publicly conveys this importance, remains the primary mode of expressing care, affection and hope for a partnership, even though the changed partnering practices of late modern capitalist society have exposed the utopian quality of romantic love and produced a cynicism about the viability of its longevity. It is evident in the marriage ceremonies prepared by the author that while the language of romantic love has come to signify a broader range of more practical associations consistent with the individualised nature of modern marriage and demystification of romantic love, it also remains the best way to express what Dowd and Pallotta describe as a fundamental human “yearning for communion with and acceptance by another human being” (571). References Beck, U., and E. Beck-Gernsheim, Individualisation: Institutionalised Individualism and Its Social and Political Consequences. London: Sage, 2002. Beigel, Hugo G. “Romantic Love.” American Sociological Review 16.3 (1951): 326–34. Carmichael, Gordon A, and Andrea Whittaker. “Forming Relationships in Australia: Qualitative Insights into a Process Important to Human Well Being.” Journal of Population Research 24.1 (2007): 23–49. Coontz, Stephanie. Marriage, A History: How Love Conquered Marriage. New York: Viking, 2005. Croome, Rodney. “Love and Commitment, To Equality.” The Drum Opinion, Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) News. 8 June 2011. 14 Aug. 2012 < http://www.abc.net.au/unleashed/2749898.html >. de Vaus, D.L. Qu, and R. Weston. “Family Trends: Changing Patterns of Partnering.” Family Matters 64 (2003): 10–15. Dowd, James T, and Nicole R. Pallotta. “The End of Romance: The Demystification of Love in the Postmodern Age.” Sociological Perspectives 43.4 (2000): 549–80. Gottschall, Jonathan, and Marcus Nordlund. “Romantic Love: A Literary Universal?” Philosophy and Literature 30 (2006): 450–70. Jankowiak, William, and Ted Fischer, “A Cross-Cultural Perspective on Romantic Love,” Ethnology 31 (1992): 149–55. Lantz, Herman R. “Romantic Love in the Pre-Modern Period: A Sociological Commentary.” Journal of Social History 15.3 (1982): 349–70. Lindholm, Charles. “Romantic Love and Anthropology.” Etnofoor 19:1 Romantic Love (2006): 5–21. Parker, Robyn. “Perspectives on the Future of Marriage.” Australian Institute of Family Studies 72 Summer (2005): 78–82.Pateman, Carole. “Women and Consent.” Political Theory (1980): 149–68. Penman, Robyn. “Current Approaches to Marriage and Relationship Research in the United States and Australia.” Family Matters 70 Autumn (2005): 26–35. Simons, Michelle. “(Re)-forming Marriage in Australia?” Australian Institute of Family Matters 73 (2006): 46–51.Stearns, Peter N, and Mark Knapp. “Men and Romantic Love: Pinpointing a 20th-Century Change.” Journal of Social History 26.4 (1993): 769–95. Yalom, Marilyn. A History of the Wife. New York: Harper Collins, 2001.