Although I don’t remember exactly when it was, I do remember quite vividly seeing the pianist, Roger Woodward play at the Temora Town Hall, many years ago. Temora is a small town north-west of Wagga Wagga. Vividly, I recall my friend Richard and I getting in the car on a Saturday night in the early 90s (when we were both living in Wagga and looking for interesting things to do) and driving the ninety minutes to Temora. Suffice it to say, the town hall was packed. People had obviously come from many miles around to see a world class pianist play in their town. The local CWA (or whatever) had organised sandwiches and cups of tea. Plastic chairs had been laid out. Simple microphones had been arranged on a stage that would have one week been hosting the local footy awards, the next week hosting a wedding. And obviously, since the memory of the evening remains, I can only assume we must have had a great night. As I understand it, Woodward continues to play these small country towns, even though he obviously doesn’t “need” to. I suspect he does it because he likes it.
The contrast between that performance in Temora and last night’s performance at the City Recital Hall cannot be understated. My friend Sam and I went last night. On arrival, we had a glass of champagne, not a cup of tea. Looking around the room, there was a similar age mix to that at the hall in Temora, but the crowd was different in quite a significant way. This was an audience of serious classical music fans with a program of Bach and Shostakovich.
And unlike the performance in Temora, where we were close to the back of the hall, we had great seats in the fourth row. We were close enough to see just how amazing Roger Woodward is as a performer. His dexterity is amazing. His concentration is unbelievable. Before attempting a piece, he sits down, he almost sighs, he prepares himself, and then his hands move at a thousand miles an hour. This was particularly evident in the first half, “The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1” by Bach.
For my money, though, I much preferred the second half, “24 Preludes And Fugues, Op. 87” by Shostakovich. There was so much more variety in this work. At times gentle and loving, at other times smashing and bashing. You could just see from the look on his face and the way in which he played, this was also a work that he must have loved.
And then tonight, Damien and I went to a talk about the influence of the internet on American politics.
writes on national politics for the New York Times Sunday Magazine, where he is currently covering the 2008 presidential campaign. He is the author of The Argument: Billionaires, Bloggers, and the Battle to Remake Democratic Politics, a critically acclaimed and controversial account of the “new progressive movement” in America and the people who built it. The Argument was the only political book to be named a ‘’New York Times Notable Book for 2007. Bai’s most recent work for the Times Magazine includes cover stories on John Edwards’s campaign against poverty, Rudy Giuliani’s presidential campaign, the meaning of “Clintonism” and John McCain’s foreign policy. He publishes frequent short essays in the magazine and has a campaign blog (now billed as a weekly column) on the Times website called The Primary Argument.
The essence of his argument was that, like television fifty years ago, the internet had begun to influence the political process. Of course he cited all the facts and figures about fundraising and mentioned all of the youtube stuff, but he also gave some anecdotal examples of how people who would not otherwise have become involved in politics were doing so through the internet. In particular, he mentioned the group Move On, comparing it with Australia’s equivalent Get Up. “Is anyone here a member of Get Up?”, he asked. A few people put up their hands. “I’ll bet there’s more”, he said, “because I’ve noticed you Australians don’t like to say how you vote. In America, loads of people would have put their hands up, even if they weren’t members”.
He was in two minds, however, about the internet. On the one hand it had the potential to be a great force for democracy. He thought it was great that people were getting involved. He also noted how the mindset of the “internet generation” – the group that wants multiple choices, accountability, openness etc – will have an ongoing effect on the political process. However, he noted there was also a culture of affirmation. No one really wants to hear anything challenging. They just want someone to say they’re correct in their views. I think there’s more than a grain of element in that, as I find most political blogs incredibly boring. Mostly they just seem to be the usual suspects saying the expected things. There’s not a lot to surprise or challenge on most of the political blogs I’ve read. In short, they’re boring, unpredictable, and just a little bit undergraduate, with an emphasis on “culture wars” and such.
You just knew from what he said he was a Democrat through and through, though not one with a closed mind. He said that he saw a great deal of positivity in the potential for a John McCain presidency because, like Obama, McCain broke the mould of his party. His thesis was that Obama won the nomination long before Hillary conceded. He said the evidence was that progressive Democrat voters still love the Clintons, but they hate “Clintonism”. In essence, they believe Clintonism was far too centrist and allowed for too many conservative compromises. He also believed that by November, almost all of Hillary’s supporters will have come to the support of Obama. “They’re Democrats through and through, and they just won’t be able to bring themselves to vote for a Republican, even if it is John McCain”, he observed.
The core audience for these Sydney Institute talks is older and conservative voting. But tonight, it was a little broader. There were a lot of younger people (20s, 30s), and I suspect a lot of progressive voters. Aside from Gerard and Ann Henderson, the only face I recognised, however, was the Middle East blogger, Antony Loewenstein. Bit of a spunk, really :)
I had a wonderful opportunity today to share my personal journey with over 400 professionals in the disability sector at an online conference. It was especially meaningful because a former colleague, now working with the organization, invited me to speak after following my story.
While regular readers of this blog may be familiar with my experiences, I wanted to share it here as a way of introducing it to a new audience. Rather than simply focusing on my own story, I invited the viewers to imagine themselves acquiring a disability later in life, something that happens to many people.
I think this allowed for a more engaging and thought-provoking discussion about disability awareness and inclusion.
This is a photograph of me taken a few months ago. I’m a late 50s male, with a bald head and dark glasses. I’m seated on an older office chair. The photographs was inspired by the famous 1960s photograph of Christine Keller, except I have my clothes on. I’m wearing shorts, and I have a lower right limb amputation.
The reality is something like 8,000 people in Australia every year undergo some form of amputation, and so my story isn’t unique.
But I feel privileged to be able to tell the story to you today on behalf of many other people who can’t.
But enough of me, I’d like you to imagine yourself in a similar position.
Close your eyes for a moment. Take a deep breath, feel the ground beneath you, the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat. If you’re able-bodied, imagine the familiar ease with which you move through the world, the effortless grace of your stride, the way your body responds to your every command. The simple act of walking, of running, of dancing – these are movements you take for granted.
Now, hold onto that feeling, that sense of wholeness, and imagine it changing. Imagine a life-altering event, an accident, an illness, a sudden twist of fate that disrupts the familiar rhythm of your existence. You’re going about your day, and then, in a flash, everything changes.
Perhaps you’re driving home from work, and a distracted driver runs a red light, colliding with your car. Or maybe you’re hiking on a favorite trail when you lose your footing and fall, sustaining a severe injury. It could be a diagnosis, cancer, or a medical condition that slowly robs you of your physical abilities. For me, it was a cut foot, an infection that went terribly wrong with sepsis, combined with undiagnosed diabetes that put me into a coma.
My story started when I visited Vietnam and Cambodia in June 2023.
I’d like to share with you a short video I shot at Angkor Watt. In the video there are three men seated in a pontoon, playing music. To the left and right of them, there are crutches, and on the right-hand side, there is one man with a prosthetic limb.
I love many of the things about this video, including the music, and the way it perhaps was a sign for me of my future.
Cambodia is a country with hundreds of thousands of people who are amputees, largely due to the land mines planted there during the civil war.
The men in the video don’t have access to the public health and disability services we do in Australia, and that’s been a constant reminder to me in the 18 months since my own amputation.
But let’s get back to you. You’ve found yourself in hospital.
After a few days in a coma you wake u, the world around you is hazy and disorienting, thanks to the AWESOME drugs you’re on,
Your vision clears, and you see concerned faces hovering above you – family, friends, medical professionals. They tell you about the accident, the injury, the surgery. The words wash over you, their meaning slow to register.
And then, the news that changes everything. Your niece, her eyes red and filled with a mixture of sadness and relief, tells you that surgeons had to amputate your lower right leg. Your mind struggles to grasp the reality of the situation – but that’s probably just the drugs!
This next video was shot a week or so later, and I’m still on some pretty serious pain relief.
I asked my niece to shoot the video after she had posted on Facebook that I was in hospital, surrounded by friends and family, and receiving the best of care. I came pretty close to dying, and that’s the message friends received from the post, so I was determined to show them there was plenty of life in me yet.
Days turn into weeks, and the news gives way to a rollercoaster of emotions. Denial, anger, sadness, acceptance – they come in waves, sometimes overwhelming you/ You grapple with the loss of your limb, the loss of a part of yourself that you never imagined living without.
The hospital becomes your world. You undergo countless tests, undertake physiotherapy, and learn to walk again.
In this video, I’m walking between bars at the hospital, well hopping really.
Hopping
Importantly at this point, you get a random phone call from a bloke from an organisation called Limbs For Life. His name is Clay, he’s a few years younger than you, but his story is remarkably familiar. You realise you’re not the only one.
Many people know someone with an amputation, many don’t, so I thought I’d share this closeup photograph of my stump. In the photograph you’ll see a wound which was still healing.
You will also notice my leg is reasonably hairy, and the one of the things I need to remain constantly aware of is ingrown hairs.
As the wound began to heal, it was soon time to think about a prosthetic.
This photograph shows the process of getting a prosthetic to match my leg. This photograph shows the connection between my leg and the prosthetic socket.
Walking with my prosthetic for the first time.
Finally, after months of hospitalization and rehabilitation, you’re discharged. You return home, but it’s not the same. On the first night, a friend stays with you, and after a while she’s supporting you, as you sob, unsure if you can cope with this new reality.
When you’re in a wheelchair, stairs become seemingly insurmountable obstacles. You worry about what you might do if the lift stops working.
You venture out into the world, tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence. You’re walking down the street, the familiar rhythm of your steps replaced by the unfamiliar click-clack of your prosthetic leg. You catch your reflection in a shop window, and there it is – a glint of polished metal where your leg used to be.
This is your new reality, a reality experienced by thousands of people every year, a reality that could just as easily become anyone’s. In Australia alone, roughly 8,000 people undergo amputations annually, with diabetes-related amputations being the fastest-growing cause of acquired physical disability in Australia.
You realise quickly, the importance of connecting with other people in similar circumstances.
This is a recent gathering of people in Sydney who are part of the Limbs for Life Facebook Group, a national charity providing peer support and advice.This year I’ve also been trying to find a sport I can play, including in this photograph wheelchair basketball.
The main thing I noticed, and maybe you would too, is the world operates in a different way when you have a physical disability.
You see the uneven footpaths, the lack of ramps and accessible entrances, the stairs that seem to loom everywhere. You notice the best access points around town are at the poker machine rooms – always good for people in wheelchairs. You write a letter to your local council for the first time EVER, advocating for better accessibility in your community.
You also notice the stares, the whispers, the well-meaning but sometimes awkward attempts at assistance. Children point and ask questions of their parents, their curiosity unfiltered. Adults avert their gaze, unsure how to interact with you. You learn to navigate these social encounters with a mix of patience, humor, and sometimes, a touch of defiance.
Public transportation becomes a source of both frustration and anxiety. You struggle to board buses and trains, the narrow aisles and lack of space making it difficult to maneuver with your prosthetic leg. Drivers, impatient and often unaware of your needs, sometime take off before you’ve had a chance to sit down properly, nearly causing you to fall.
The fear of falling, of being thrown off balance, becomes a constant companion. You find yourself relying on the kindness of strangers, hoping that someone will offer you their seat. And sometimes, they do. But sometimes, they don’t. You have to summon up the courage to ask, to assert your needs in a world that often overlooks them.
You encounter those who occupy the designated disability seats, their eyes glued to their mobile phones, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. You wonder if they will ever understand the challenges you face. Maybe when they’re older, maybe when they’re heavily pregnant.
You set goals for yourself, determined to reclaim your life and your independence.
One of the things you often hear about is walking 10,000 steps a day. You realise that’s a pretty unrealistic goal, and so when the radio station you work at, encourages everyone to walk that much, you decide it’s time for a bit of public education.
You return to work part-time after about five months, incredibly grateful for the support of your colleagues over the last few months, the cards, the visits, the wishes,, but also acutely aware of the added physical and mental demands you now face.
Simple tasks that once seemed effortless now require twice the effort. The fatigue is relentless. You say to the boss, “I need to have a nap in the afternoon, but I wouldn’t be the only manager who has ever done that???”. He laughs in recognition.
You wonder if you’re still valued, if your colleagues see you the same way they did before. You notice the subtle changes in the way some of them behave, the way they sometimes talk to you more slowly, as if you’ve somehow become less capable, and not just because of your physical changes.
But you also experience unexpected moments of connection, the shared understanding with others who are also amputees You discover someone at work who you’ve known for 20 years is also an amputee, though you’ve never noticed before. You get a message from another colleague who is a Paralympian, offering you tips and advice about prosthetic limbs, and offering to go for a swim with you. Hey, she’s a Paralympic swimmer!!!
You meet a woman at the bar who recognizes you from rehabilitatio, when you were there with her mother. You meet a man on the tram who offers you his seat with a knowing smile, as the person next to him is also an Amputee. You meet a woman at a busy bar offers you a seat and later, lifts her dress to reveal her own prosthetic limb.
These encounters, often unexpected and deeply moving, are a reminder that you’re not alone on this journey. They remind you that there is strength in shared experience, that you are part of a community that understands your struggles and celebrates your triumphs.
You discover a resilience you never knew you possessed. You develop empathy for others, an appreciation for the small victories, the ability to find humor.
You learn to navigate a world that wasn’t necessarily built for you, to advocate for yourself, to embrace your new reality. You discover a hidden community of amputees, each with their own unique story of resilience and adaptation. You find strength in their stories, inspiration in their triumphs, and comfort in their shared understanding.
This is a journey that anyone could face. An accident, an illness, a sudden twist of fate – life can change in an instant. And when it does, we are all capable of incredible strength, resilience, and adaptation.
But we can also disappear into dark spaces, overwhelmed by the challenges and the complexities of navigating a world that wasn’t designed for you.
The world of disability support, with its bureaucracy and its endless forms, can be daunting for many people, especially for those who lack the skills or the resources to advocate for themselves.
I feel lucky to have the communication skills to be able to tell my story and advocate on my own behalf, but also recognise I’ve met many others who don’t have that experience.
So please keep an eye out for people who might need your help a little bit more, who might not always be able to advocate on their own behalf.
PS – I received some lovely comments.
Thanks for such an informative presentation. Lots of work apparent – and the bonus is it was fun.
Thank you, James for sharing your experience. Great presentation [that] demonstrates exercising choice and control!
Wow James, what a change in your life you’ve had to undertake. Well done for not giving up and using your traumatic experience to encourage, educate and inspire others to not give up – adversity and resilience. Thank you for sharing your journey. It is great to see you have overcome challenges and are using you own experience to help others.
You are phenomenal James!! Thank you for sharing your journey.. Keep trekking on!!!
Thank you for a very informative and inspiring session.
Thank you, James for your truth. Go forth and live, laugh and love.
The truth be told I was a little nervous on approaching the Courthouse Hotel for tonight’s GLBTI Bloggers Meetup. First, I’d realised we’d forgotten the Q, and was half-expecting a protest on behalf of Queer Bloggers, incensed they had been left off the invite. Second, it had been raining for much of the day. Thankfully, The Other Andrew, had booked an undercover table in the beer garden, so all was fine there. And third, because I’m instinctively a shy person (despite my job and my bravado), I was worried I would have to be the outgoing one who would need to identify and welcome people. Thankfully, TOA who is much better than me in those regards arrived right on time. In fact, everyone seemed to arrive quite early which I thought was pretty amazing.
After Andrew, the first to arrive was Michael who delighted everyone with tales of travelling overseas with his dog for the last few years. He must have been asked the question about how he got his dog through quarantine a thousand times. In fact, he said, the only problems he had was coming back into Australia. He also offered some handy advice about the advantages of travelling overseas with your car, except in the UK. He also turned out to be a knitter, which delighted both TOA and The Witty Knitter who I had not realised was a NZer by birth. Having read her blog for about a year now, it was really great to meet her, and to hear her observations about life, the universe and everything. As well as knitting, she also blogs about blogging, as she is doing her PHd about people doing PHds, and part of that is to encourage people doing PHds to blog about their PHd. It is actually not that confusing when she explains it all.
Marcellous was also an early arrival, entertaining us with tales from the courtroom, and tales from the films he had seen at the Mardi Gras Film Festival, in common with A Girl Called Dusty.
I had to smile when Panther arrived around 6pm, as he and I had been on the same history walk two days earlier. I later recounted to Therin Of Andor the historical inaccuracies surrounding Number 96 which had been featured on the tour.
My near neighbour, Ninglun was also there, explaining NInglun was actually his name in Mandarin, and telling us that Kevin Rudd also has a name that converts to Mandarin, though I can no longer recall exatly what it was. It was great too, to see Dancing about Architecture (Riayn) who I had met at a non-GLBTI Bloggers Meetup a few weeks ago. She is such a lovely person and along with TOA she was one of the stayers after most people left at about 7.30pm to go home to have dinner etc.
So thanks to all those who attended. It was lots of fun and it was great to meet such a nice bunch of people.
The view from the sixth floor cafe at Google HQ in Sydney is pretty damn good. Along with about 150 others, I participated today in a “Google 4 Media Day” held there which ended with a couple of glasses of wine. It was a lovely day in Sydney, with a nice breeze, and the perfect end to an interesting day.
Organised by the Media Team at Google here in Sydney, there was an obvious PR element to the day, as we were encouraged to use Youtube, Google+, Hangouts, Earth and other Google products. But there were lots of other interesting things covered which won’t necessarily lead directly to greater profits for one of the world’s largest companies.
“I’d never heard of Google.org until today”, I said to someone over lunch. Google.org is the philanthropic part of Google, where they support non-for-profit organisations, and do “good things” such as Crisis Response. One of the engineers who works on Crisis Response, based here in Sydney, Anthony Baxter (who has a wonderfully dry sense of humour) spoke about their recent work on public transportation in New York around Hurricane Sandy, as an example of how they’re working to create up to date information which can hopefully help people when they need it most.
Souvenier Android Thumb Drive
The first part of the day, however, was spent going through some of the more advanced Google Search features, which I already use including searching by dates. Some time was also spent talking about Google Trends which I had read about, but hadn’t investigated properly. Trends allows you to get an idea of what people are searching for online, with the oft-quoted example of how they’ve been able to track influenza ahead of the game, and share that information with health authorities. “It’s not statistical”, was the common refrain from a number of people over morning tea, to which someone replied “think of it as a tip-off”. It’s just another research tool, I added to the discussion.
There was also a really interesting discussion in the morning about social media and journalism, involving people from Storyful, Mashable and the New York Times (more than half their audience is international, these days, apparently). There were a couple of interesting things which came out of this session, including an observation that, as data networks became congested (or unavailable) during Hurricane Sandy, many people used SMS to post to, and receive information from Twitter. The most interesting panellist, I thought, was David Clinch from Storyful. As I’ve sat down tonight and reviewed my notes, he was the one who said the things I most often quoted. My favourite quote from him, about social media generally, was that you’re not looking for “the wisdom of the crowd” but instead “the wisdom in the crowd”. He also made the argument media companies shouldn’t “waste time and resources on social media, if they aren’t going to directly lead to better content”. The session was conducted as a Google Hangout, and is now available to watch on Youtube.
I also really liked the idea of The Lives They Lived, based around one of my favourite parts of the New York Times, their obituary section. I really like their obituaries, as they’re always so well written. But this feature sought to “democratize” the obituaries, and asked their readers to write in about “ordinary people” who they knew who had died in the last year. I guess it’s because I like family history so much, that I think this is such an interesting idea.
There was also a session this morning about Youtube, and I was particularly interested to in CitizenTube which features curated and verified content from “ordinary people” around current news events. One of the most interesting statistics which came out from this session was that Australians were the third most likely, behind the US and Canada, to watch the recent Presidential Debates on Youtube.
A little bit of learning in the men’s toilet at Google HQ in Sydney
Later in the afternoon, we split off into groups where the focus was on practical hands-on use of a number of applications particularly suited to use by media. There was a session on data visualization, one on Google Maps, and the one I attended, the session called “Getting Started with Google+ Hangouts”. Even though I’ve used hangouts (it took about ninety seconds to download the plugin and work out how to use), I was interested to learn more about hangouts. As well as the ability to interact with audiences in new ways, I think they have enormous potential for broadcast, including radio, as they can deliver reasonably good audio from up to ten people simultaneously. I’ve done a little experimentation with them at work, and have concluded that at this stage of the development of the product, and the lack of high quality broadband, they’ll probably work best in a pre-recorded environment. When the NBN rolls out, I suspect they’ll come into their own for broadcasters. Of course, there’s a lot of companies and products competing in this space, but significantly, Hangouts are currently free, whereas multiple person chats on Skype, for example, come at a cost.
Fox Sports uses Google+ Hangouts
I asked a question about which media companies in Australia had been using Google Hangouts. The early use by +Sunrise was mentioned, with specific reference to their multi-camera “behind the scenes” hangout. Having a look at the Sunrise page tonight, I note, their page hasn’t been updated since the end of August when they gained a new, simpler url. Nova was also mentioned, as was Fox Sports who have been conducting viewer hangouts with sports fans. Also on the sporting side of things, Carlton Football Club has been involved in a number of regular hangouts, where fans get to meet players, the coach, and other officials. I quite like their use of an animated gif in their Google+ profile page.
Sport has been a big thing for Google+, as has travel, photographing and cooking. “The best hangouts are those with a practical element to them”, Lucinda Barlow who is Head of Marketing Google Australia & NZ went on to say, showing us examples of cooking glasses, and even yoga glasses which have been conducted using Google Hangouts. A few weeks ago I showed by Swedish teacher how to set up a hangout, as she is interested in connecting with remote students, emphasising the educational possibilities of this platform.
The answer to “how long should a hangout be” is pretty much the same as “how long is a piece of string”. Although the answer to “how long CAN a hangout be” is “four hours”, it was noted author hangouts tend to be about twenty minutes. “That feels about right”,
It was also interesting to learn about the Lower Thirds App which allows you to caption your guests in a hangout.
Although I’m not one for “networking” at these kind of events, I did enjoy catching up with some other “media types” who I hadn’t seen for a while.
Since my lower leg amputation last year, finding pants that fit comfortably over my prosthetic leg has been a real challenge. I went through several different prosthetics over the last year, each with its own unique fit, before finally getting my “permanent” one a few weeks ago. (I’m actually getting a “wet leg” tomorrow, but that’s a whole other story!)
The biggest issue was finding pants I could actually pull up over the bulkier temporary prosthetics. It was so frustrating! In the end, I decided to invest in a new suit and have it tailored. I had to go a couple of sizes larger in the pants and then have them adjusted accordingly. It’s funny, the alterations on my suit ended up costing almost as much as the suit itself!
But, I’m happy to report that my new suit arrived today, perfectly adjusted and ready to wear. I feel like I can finally go out and about again and feel confident at social events. I feel proud of my prosthetic, but it’s nice to not always have it on show.
As I came in and out of my apartment block a few times today I kept an eye on the pile of “White Pages” on the door-step. Would anyone actually collect them?
For at least the last five years, I’ve noticed almost no-one from my block bothers to pick them up. The pile remains there, mostly untouched, until it disappears a few weeks later. I’ve noticed the slim-down Easter Suburbs version is often picked up, but the larger versions of White and Yellow pages, are almost never taken.
It was a day of “chores” for me. I needed to replace some washers in the shower, and I needed a new cable for my computer. So I was in and out of the building a few times today. I also had a few other minor chores to worry about. At the end of the day, having completed these chores, I felt quite satisfied.
Don’t ask me what else happened today… as there’s nothing else to report.
It’s Friday night and I’ve just been out for dinner with Damien. We had good fun talking about a range of subjects and the meal – Massaman Lamb Curry and Pad Thai Chicken – was excellent! It’s been a reasonably busy week. Tuesday night, as per usual was television night, with “The Bill”, followed by “Rove”. Rove seems obsessed with the nation thinking he’s gay. He made another reference to it the other night. I, for one, don’t care about Rove’s sexuality. However, he remains as cute as button.
On Wednesday, I went to the Lewisham Hotel with Graeme, Ian and John. Since the last time I went the place has quietened considerably. It seems the hotel is trying to attract a new market, but in doing so has alienated much of its existing market. Still, the beers were cheap, the grilled octopus was excellent, and the conversation is fantastic. We managed to cover every conceivable topic and some inconceivable topics.
And then last night I went with Colin to “The Man From Snowy River Arena Spectacular”. According to the events promoters, “The Man From Snowy River Arena Spectacular is a musical, a rock concert, a rodeo, an equestrian extravaganza and arena show like no other, at the scale and grandeur of its inspiration, the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games Opening Ceremony.” It was all of that and more.
In some respects it was a spectacular piece of theatre and doing what theatre always should: it takes lots of risks. But in other respects it’s very safe. While the first half is quite moving, especially a lovely scene, where the horse is “broken”, the second half is spectacle without substance. Looking around the audience, many of the people for whom it may be intended to appeal looked bored. Unfortunately, it was also unnecesarilly American – poor Georgie Parker thought she was in Oklahoma for most of the night; at times it was a pastiche of every American movie western possible, complete with the word “cowboy” and banjos, which, to the best of my knowledge are not part of the Australian bush legend. The show aims to be what “The Boy From Oz” was: the great Australian musical that can be sold to the world. In its execution, however, it was jingoistic and evidence the “cultural cringe” remains with us. If the show stuck with the horse theme, and left out the dancing kids, it could be a great Australian musical, but at the moment, the negative aspects probably outweight the positive. And that is my personal view…
Next week, I’m off to Brisbane, the Gold Coast and Lismore… and the week after, it’s Adelaide. I hope to have lots of interesting stories and photographs to post.
