Second good coffee in a month.
Which is pathetic.
Second good coffee in a month.
Which is pathetic.
Paul Kelly played the Canberra Theatre last night and, having been offered a couple of freebies, Bic Parker (occasional reviewer and man about town) and I attended. It was a bit of a spur of the moment decision to go, during which deliberations one good friend, a New Zilandar (and thus immune to the ordinary Aussies’ parochial bias) suggested I might well save myself a couple of hours of major boredom and watch the Sunday movie.
Undeterred, we sallied forth, arriving at doors open, 7.30pm, to mingle with the crowd, average age 40+, gender balance fairly even. Talking with the Theatre’s audio engineer, who happened by, I was informed Kelly had his own stage production and engineers for this show which included a massive bank of speakers. ‘Oh dear,’ said I, ‘it’s not going to be too loud?’ ‘Possibly’ was the reply. Finishing off our final cigarettes and $2 ‘espresso’ coffees, we entered the theatre (looking a touch shabbier than I recalled) and found our allocated seats, eight rows back, dead centre.
I began to feel uncomfortable. As a smoker and a person for whom bathing is a necessary evil, spending much time in close contact with the great washed generates both anxiety and stinging eyes. Anxiety that I probably stink, a not unfounded paranoia (it’s an acquired smell that some people are actually quite fond of) and stinging eyes from the cocktail of perfumes, deodorants etc. that wafts liberally off such gatherings. Seated smack bang in the middle of 800 of the bastards, with the narrow escape routes rapidly filling with knees and handbags, I was starting to generate a sweat. I also wanted to fart, something my belly hates me delaying, but not something I was going to emit with Bic and the gorgeous young lady in such close proximity.
A few photos from the Phoenix, taken at Captain my Captain and The Bootleg Sessions last week. And a tip on the use of the gallery format. If you click on one of the thumbnail images, you can navigate through the photos with the direction keys. Once all the large images have downloaded, holding down the right arrow key will make the whole gallery fly by like a movie. Enjoy.
Postmark 14th March, 1970
218807 Pte Jamieson
8RAR Dcoy 10PL
GPO Sydney 2890
My Dearest Sandra,
How are you dear, I hope everything is going OK for you. To-day is Monday 9th March. Have had quite an easy day to-day. Whilst in the bush we nearly always finish up work about 4-5PM and prepare ourselfs a meal out of our rations. About 7.30 it’s dark and we sleep, but we have to work a pickquet of 2 hours watch each, but even though we still have a good rest. We only moved about 800 yds to-day but it was through swamp so it’s quite hard work, it wouldn’t be too bad except we have to carry about 90lb of gear on our backs, it’s not much fun when we are up to our knees in mud. Anyway so much for me. How is your Mum and Dad getting along and the boys and yourself. It must be very lonely for you. I imagine you as being very lonely and lost. I am sorry darling but when I get out of here I will always be with you, I love you Sandra and I too am very lonely and lost so please wait for me dear and we shall start again when I get home. I love you more every day Sandra. [Read more →]
Tonight! On Master Cook Australia: sudden death as we face the dinner challenge – Gertrude style!
Our contestant Gertrude has been in Master Cook house preparing for the evening’s task. [Shot of Gertrude reading books, playing Tetris, drinking 15 cups of tea, etc.]
5.30 pm our Judge Wildflower pays a visit.
Wildflower: “I’m hungry.”
Gertrude: “Oh Sh*t. What time is it? Five-thirty! I better get cracking.”
Gertrude moves to kitchen. Opens refrigerator and stares inside before shutting it. Moves to pantry and does the same. Back to refrigerator. She has a look in the freezer and another look at the clock. Sighs and wishes she had a microwave.
Gertrude returns to the pantry and removes some ingredients. She calls to the judge “is tuna mornay okay?”
Wildflower: “Errrkk. I hate tuna mornay”.
Gertrude: “Okay fine! we’ll have porridge then.”
Wildflower – voice rising: “No! Not porridge! All right, we’ll have tuna.” Wildflower retreats sobbing.
For those of you still searching for the Stateline piece on the Backyard Backanalia, Guerrilla Gig and Bootleg Sessions, here’s the youtube clip, thoughtfully recorded and uploaded by Johnboy at The RiotACT.
Postmark 13th March, 1970
32 Fenton St
Well old cock how are you? Still lifting shirt tails – Mum and I went down to Cameron’s last night to see some slides and one of the slides showed a group of you around the tent with one soldier holding a shirt tail up on a bloke with no trousers on and no one noticed it until I drew attention to it. [Read more →]
As good as it gets. Rainwater, hand-ground beans, clean air and sound-track by lyrebird. Italian stove-top on hardwood embers.
As reliable as it gets anyway. If you’re making a pot of stovetop for yourself, at least the result is assured. Good strong ESpresso.
Given you know what you’re doing.
Postmark 9th March, 1970
25 Blacket St
My Dear Jock,
I received your letter and slides today and was very pleased to receive them until I read the letter, for I was then and still am at boiling point. Because I think it is about time you decided whether you trust me or not, in the last letter you said you trusted me and now in this letter you don’t. Maybe you trust me but it appears that you don’t trust my love for you. You say that you would rather we be honest with one and other, well whether you believe it or not I have always been honest with you, but I can’t say that you have always been honest with me, I know that you have always been honest with me about love matters and your feelings for me, but there are lots of little things that I know you haven’t been honest with me about, I can’t name them right now but some of these little things have meant a lot to me, whereas they may not have to you. I know and trust your love for me, which I know is as strong as my love for you, but somehow you just can’t seem to realise that my love for you is strong and true. You say that I need a man as if I was sex mad and can’t do without it. Well of course I need a man, I need my man, the one and only man I love, and I need him for love and not for sex, and when we are together we make love, we don’t just have sex. I don’t know how I am ever going to convince you of my love for you. Whenever you say things like you did in this letter you make me feel so terribly cheap and dirty. For I have always felt that our love is so pure and heavenly and too wonderful for words to describe. Can you please tell me what makes you feel doubts for my love for you? Is it something I say or do, please tell me, as I want nothing more than to make you happy and you can’t be happy if you have doubts about me. [Read more →]
Had to share this.
Folkus Room 3 April 2009
I first saw and heard Kim Churchill when he wowed the Old Canberra Inn crowd during a support spot for Adam Hole and Marji Curran. From what I could hear over and through the noisy bunch that night, I knew I wanted a closer listen so I was really looking forward to his support for Jigzag at a performance-focused venue like the Folkus Room. Via a bunch of small mishaps, I was bummed to find I had managed to miss the first song, BB King’s Sweet Little Angel. But from that point things definitely looked up.
As his trademark post-surf look (blonde hair stiff with salt, shorts, sloppy joe and bare feet) attests, the 18 year-old Kim, who finished Year 12 only last year, lives on the New South Wales South Coast. I arrived just in time to hear him introducing his second song. Admitting he ‘stole’ the melody at the start, he gave his new (second time plugged in) instrument, a Queensland-made lap-guitar, a real work out for Loving Home, an original song ‘about finding your place in the world’. And he wasn’t at all shabby on the blues harp either.