I don’t know if there’s another source for the phrase “Ever lovin’ Adelaide” but for me it’s a phrase I’ve always associated with “ABBA – The Movie”. There’s one point in the movie where, as the DJ Ashley makes his way around Australia, following ABBA on tour, he tells his manager he needs to go to Adelaide, to which the manager replies, “Ever lovin’ Adelaide”. It’s a phrase which has just stuck on amongst friends, many of whom actually come from Adelaide. Well, today I’ve spent most of the day in “Ever lovin’ Adelaide”.
After the last few days of near continuous activity, Sue and I have needed a bit of a break, so we’ve spent the day close to home.
Late this morning we went out to pick up some brochures for a planned Barossa tour tomorrow, which we considered over a coffee. And then, after lunch, Sue went to a movie, “Mao’s Last Dancer” while I visited some colleagues here, one of whom I’ll work closely with in the future.
Menu from German pub in Hahndorf
ABC Building in Adelaide
Visiting Mount Lofty
And then later this afternoon we went for a drive up into the Adelaide Hills, visiting Mount Lofty which was reasonably well fogged in, and then onto Hahndorf which is a beautiful little town.
“You know about the P’s and B’s of journalism?”, I remember my friend and colleague Tony once asking. He and I were sharing a house at Bourke in Western NSW, where we both worked at the radio station, 2WEB. I was a young pup, and I learned much from him due to his age, seniority, and having previously worked as a journalist and professor in the United Kingdom.
“For the tabloids, journalism is about bingo, booze and broads”, I remember him telling me with a laugh. And, in order of reader/listener interest, the priority was “princes, prices, people, places and politics”, he added.
I asked him about “princes” and he told me, they weren’t only royals, but anyone famous, and sometimes, politicians could be princes.
I remember this conversation to this day, and it’s been wonderful guidance throughout my career in journalism.
In some ways, Diana was two of the p’s. She was both a princess and a person we all had an interest in, and all thought we “knew”. I’m guessing we’ve all had theories about what “happened”, ranging from “saint-like mother” to “troubled person” to “misadventure” to “they had her killed”.
The new film “Spencer” takes in a bit of all that, though the film doesn’t touch on what happened in Paris, focussing instead on a period of two or three days around Christmas some time in the 1990s, when Diana and Charles were separated, but not yet divorced.
Over the course of those days, you see Diana estranged from the Royal Family, always running late, not wanting to wear the right clothes or “play the game” any longer. There are some wonderful playful moments with her children, but also some disturbing moments that seek to portray the concern of William and Harry about their mother’s disturbed state. She seems deeply troubled, imagining a relationship with Anne Boleyn, is self-harming, and wanting to return to a simpler life. The film also imagines a close relationship with a female servant. Much of the film is imagined and relies on allegories.
This is not the kind of film you would find on “The History Channel”, “The Biography Channel” or midday movies. This is not “happy families”.
A few hours later, after watching it, I’m still not sure if I like the film.
As I left the cinema today my fellow patrons also seemed somewhat bewildered. You know how you normally hear people chatting, saying “oh that was good” or things like that? Today, there was just silence from my fellow viewers. Nothing.
And yet I know some people will love this film, and others will loathe this film, depending on their version of the Diana story. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good film with good acting and direction. I’m just not sure, at this stage, where it fits into the biographical story of Diana.
There’s a problem with the laneway near home which has caused me a lot of grief. It’s the laneway I’ve walked through at least twice a day for the last twenty-five years.
At first, there was a problem with people pissing in the laneway. More recently, there was a problem with litter.
At the centre of my most recent concerns has been the “littering” of the wonderful art project, Village Voices by Astra Howard. Astra is a mate, and I have loved the tireless work she has done to bring the voices of people of my neighbourhood into a public art space. The variety of words and ideas expressed has been wonderful. I will often see people stand in moments of contemplation reading the words, and often taking selfies with the sign.
The latest work is by a young girl who goes to the nearby school.
In the last couple of years, people have begun to use the “shelf” below the work as a place to leave coffee cups, in preference to walking a few metres down the road to use the garbage bin. I mean, it’s not that far!
Thanks to the lockdown, there hasn’t been too much of a problem recently.
The problem has also been reduced, thanks to the change in the outside seating arrangements of the restaurant next door.
But in the last few weeks, the problem has re-emerged.
Tonight!
Previously, I’ve taken a more proactive approach to things. Previously I’ve spoken to the nearby restaurant owners, and have asked them to take more care about how they deal with their waste.
More recently, I’ve taken a new approach. I’m now just removing the cups from the shelf and putting them on the ground, so it becomes a “litter problem”, not a problem of “placement”.
As the local restaurants won’t be more proactive, I’ve decided it’s something for the City of Sydney.
Yeah I know, all pretty pointless. But let’s see if this approach works.
The two artists, the curator and the photographer, sat before a crowd of about 100 people at the National Art School in Sydney yesterday. Behind them, two rows of photographs alternated between images of the Melbourne skyline and more intimate views inside the Sofitel Hotel, creating the illusion of being high up in a luxury skyscraper.
“Who wouldn’t say yes to six weeks in a luxury hotel?”, photographer, Anne Zahalka said during the talk to celebrate her restrospective exhibition currently showing.
While the photographs from Melbourne were not in a “traditional photo documentary style”, due to privacy considerations for guests staying there, the series of photographs was deeply inspired by her experiences. Many of the photographs featured friends who visited her at the hotel.
Zahalka and the curator also discussed a series inspired by Bondi, reimagining iconic imagery of the area. The famous Bodysurfer by Max Dupain, though not actually shot at Bondi, served as a starting point for one of Zahalka’s photographs. The image depicted a person with striking red hair and pale skin, androgynous in appearance. While many viewers assumed it was a woman, Zahalka revealed the subject was male, emphasizing the photo’s gender-bending quality.
The artist talk accompanying the retrospective at the National Art School was both informative and engaging. Zahalka spoke about her early fascination with art—meticulously cutting out images with a scalpel—and her influential residencies, including a year in Berlin during the 1980s. Her vivid descriptions of the pre-reunification city transported me back to my own brief visit, where I, too, had been captivated by the soft, warm European light.
Having attended opening night a couple of days earlier, I remembered it was almost exactly a year since I’d attended an exhibition opening while still in hospital recovering from lower limb amputation surgery. With the invaluable support of my friend, Kate, I’d navigated the challenging Darlinghurst footpaths in my wheelchair, creating a night filled with unforgettable memories, including a surprising encounter with a hospital physiotherapist. https://thelimbshift.com/2023/08/exhibition-opening-in-a-wheelchair/
Now, while no longer reliant on a wheelchair, I still felt unsteady on the historic grounds. The predominantly dark clothing of the crowd and their engrossed conversations added to the challenge of navigating the uneven surfaces. After a near-miss, I hesitantly asked a woman to share her seat. Reluctant at first, she graciously agreed upon seeing my leg.
A chance meeting with a friend I hadn’t seen in years added to the evening’s magic. He shared a heartfelt story about Anne photographing him and his late partner, Steven.
After a brief overview of the exhibition and speeches, I returned on the weekend for a more leisurely experience. Immersed in the art without the distractions of a crowded opening night, I more fully appreciated the artist and curator talk. However, the desire to revisit the exhibition with even fewer people lingers, perhaps on my upcoming day off.
“What a beautiful t-shirt you have”, said the woman behind the bottle-shop counter. I reminded her we’d met once before in similar circumstances, and she’d said something similar.
Four years ago, when visiting Sweden I bought a t-shirt with “Sverige” (the Swedish name for Sweden) emblazoned on it, and I wear it from time to time. I swear the last time I wore it, though, was a couple of months ago as I entered my local bottle shop. At first the woman serving me was a little taken aback. “Why are you wearing a Swedish shirt”?, she asked me. As chance would have it, I entered the bottle shop earlier tonight and the same thing happened again.
This time our conversation progressed a little further, as I told her I’d obtained tickets for this year’s Melodifestivalen (the Swedish finals leading to the Eurovision Song Contest”. “So you have tickets to the final?”, she asked, adding “Oh my god, I am so jealous”.
“I can’t believe we have such a beautiful city in Stockholm, and such a wonderful new arena, and they’re holding Eurovision in Malmo”, she went on to say. I’m prone to agree. I mean, I think Malmo is a lovely city, and it’s closer to Europe than Stockholm, but Stockholm is an amazingly beautiful, world class city. And that’s what’s drawn me back to buy tickets for next year’s Melodifestivalen.
Truth also be told, I think Melodifestivalen is a far more interesting song contest than Eurovision itself. Long before all of the modern television talent shows, the team behind Melodifestivalen “created” the genre with weekly heats in a number of Swedish cities, a “second chance” final, and then finally, a national final, where the nation gets to vote about who will represent them at the Eurovision Song Contest. It appears as if the Swedes takes Eurovision far more seriously than many other countries. And yet, at the same time, they have a sense of humour about it all.
Three years ago I obtained a ticket for the dress rehearsal for the final. Tickets for the final sold out within minutes of going on sale, and the dress rehearsal was the best I could hope for. Last night, however, I was a little more strategic, with browsers open on two computers, and logged on early to join the queue on ticnet.se, the Swedish ticketing system. Earlier in the day, I’d read about billjetnu.se, a company which apparently, had pre-purchased tickets from ticnet.se, and had their own separate allocation to sell. As I waited and waited in the queue on ticnet.se, I got a little impatient and so thought I’d try billjetnu.se, and was lucky enough to secure some tickets in the category, “bästa sittplats” (best seats). I’m very excited, as I enjoyed myself a few years ago when I attended the dress rehearsal, and now I have tickets for the actual final. Yay. A friend from Paris will be in Stockholm, and so we’re going together which will be terrific.
It’s not the only reason I’m planning to travel to Europe in March/April. I’m also going to a radio conference in Berlin called, “Radio Days”, and hope to have some kind of role in the program there. And I’m also interested in going to the International ABBA Day Event in The Netherlands which is now confirmed for April 8. All I’m waiting for now is a confirmation about the date for the opening of the ABBA Museum in Stockholm, and I’ll be booking airline tickets.
Though I can’t be sure it’s his work, I’m pretty confident this is the work of a guy called Matt. (I saw him earlier in the night, ahead of this being created, and knowing the way he works, I’m sure it’s him).
Made from soil, you can’t help but love the sentiment in this piece of “organic public art” in my back laneway.
Matt is a homeless guy who has lived on-and-off in my neighbourhood over the last few years.
He’s a divisive figure in my neighbourhood. Some people hate him sleeping rough, and his erratic behaviour. Others, like me, have developed a friendly relationship with him, though noting his behaviour is sometimes a little bit challenging. From my conversations with him, he seems like a genuinely thoughtful interesting man, albeit with a troubled life.
I wrote about him previously, both here and on the Surry Hills & Valleys story-telling site.
There’s a homeless guy who has been living near my apartment on and off for a couple of years. He has a bunch of “issues”, and though he’s sometimes a little “scary”, other times he’s quite okay, and we’ve chatted together about all kinds of things. A few months ago I noticed a nearby neighbour had left an envelope of cash for him, so I’m obviously not the only one who knows and cares for Matt. A few months ago it really struck home to me about the changes in Surry when I was coming out of my apartment block and was confronted by a man who almost shouted at me “Have you seen the homeless guy? Have you reported him to the police?”. “Yes, I have seen him”, I told him, “but he’s never caused me any concern, so I haven’t. Why would I?” The guy looked dumbfounded at my response. A few days later, I saw Matt being addressed by the police, and being told he shouldn’t hang around in our neighbourhood anymore. “What exactly have I done wrong? What law have I broken”, he asked the police. They didn’t have much of an answer. In the same way there’s “room” for public housing at Northcott, and there’s room for so much cultural, gender, sexual etc, diversity, I hope we don’t end up with a neighbourhood that doesn’t recognise the “other”.
Damien and I were watching Channel 10 News with Sandra Sully when news broke of the 9/11 attacks. That was our routine at the time: watch the news, and then head off to bed. I still remember the slightly frazzled look on Sandra’s face as she looked down and read from a piece of paper – obviously too soon to add to the auto-cue – about the attacks.
We stayed watching the coverage for several hours. We spoke to friends on the phone. We drank a bottle of wine. We worried for a while this was going to happen all around the world: New York, Washington, London, Paris, and eventually Sydney. The thought of an attack on Sydney went through our minds for quite some time, especially as we lived so close to the CBD. Weeks later, there were the anthrax scares,
I woke early the next morning, and when I went to work, I had to confront – as a broadcaster – the issue of what to do on the radio on the radio that day. It had been a big week already with the collapse of Ansett Airlines. And now, there a major world story with implications for all. About half of each hour that I was on the radio was dedicated to national news coverage. As I recall, for the remainder of each hour we continued to talk about what had occurred, interviewing people we knew were there – such as a delegation of NSW Farmers – and giving listeners the opportunity to express their feelings.
And on the following day, we had planned an outside broadcast from the Illawarra Folk Festival. As it turned out, it was probably a good thing. The half-hour news specials continued, and in between, we featured a bunch of folk musicians who sang about peace. It was the right combination, I think, in hindsight.
In the UK, it’s the July 2007 events that remain in their minds. In Australia (and Indonesia), it’s the Bali Bombings that remains in our minds.
As I sit and watch tonight’s commemoration I’m reminded of that night ten years ago and think about how much the world has changed. The internet has changed the world with an increasing level of internationalism, which is a good thing. But we’ve also seen a dramatic increase in racism and nationalism, evident in the recent killings in Norway. We’ve also seen some polarisation between religious groups, but also increasing levels of inter-faith activity.
In the same way that Nazism and Communism changed the world, and yet we “recovered”, let’s hope the same thing happens again.
The video of Sandra Sully crossing to the attacks is on Youtube, though unfortunately the sound is really crap.
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Comes from the Broadway Show “Guys and Dolls” – Music and Lyrics: Frank Loesser, based on the Damon Runyon short story.
Roles include bumbling gambler hustler Nathan Detroit and charismatic Sky Masterson playing their games and losing their hearts to Miss Adelaide, queen chorine of The Hot Box, and Sergeant Sarah Brown of the Save-A-Soul Mission.
“Ever-Lovin’ Adelaide”, was a ballad written for Frank Sinatra’s 1955 movie version” of G&D, where he is singing about his girl – [Google “Adelaide, Adelaide’ for all the lyrics.]
Chorus:
Adelaide, Adelaide, ever-loving Adelaide,
Is taking a chance on me,
Taking a chance I’ll be respectable and nice,
Give up cards and dice, and go for shoes and rice,
So gentlemen, deal me out, do not try to feel me out,
I got no more evenings free (you may scratch me)
Since Adelaide, Adelaide, ever loving Adelaide
Is taking a chance (talk about your long shot)
Taking a chance on me.
Comes from the Broadway Show “Guys and Dolls” – Music and Lyrics: Frank Loesser, based on the Damon Runyon short story.
Roles include bumbling gambler hustler Nathan Detroit and charismatic Sky Masterson playing their games and losing their hearts to Miss Adelaide, queen chorine of The Hot Box, and Sergeant Sarah Brown of the Save-A-Soul Mission.
“Ever-Lovin’ Adelaide”, was a ballad written for Frank Sinatra’s 1955 movie version” of G&D, where he is singing about his girl – [Google “Adelaide, Adelaide’ for all the lyrics.]
Chorus:
Adelaide, Adelaide, ever-loving Adelaide,
Is taking a chance on me,
Taking a chance I’ll be respectable and nice,
Give up cards and dice, and go for shoes and rice,
So gentlemen, deal me out, do not try to feel me out,
I got no more evenings free (you may scratch me)
Since Adelaide, Adelaide, ever loving Adelaide
Is taking a chance (talk about your long shot)
Taking a chance on me.
Hi Kris, d’oh of course!! I saw the show last year and completely forget. Cheers, James