“We apologise for the delay, but we’re still not sure when we can leave, after an earlier incident”, the tram driver told us twice.
While many others got off the tram, I decided to wait.
And what a lovely experience it was. There was a couple sitting opposite with a child of maybe eighteen months old. That age when children start to develop their own personality, are usually always smiling.
They were a French couple and she was was talking to the child in some very basic French, which was good, as it was at about the level of my understanding of French.
And then she burst into song.
Alouette, gentille alouette Alouette, je te plumeraiJe te plumerai la tête Je te plumerai la tête Et la tête, et la tête Alouette, Alouette Oh, oh, oh, ohAlouette, gentille alouette Alouette, je te plumerai
What a joy it was to remember that song from my own childhood. I sang along in my head.
Anyway. after about twenty minutes, I’d lost interest in the family, and on my plans to travel into the city, so I got off the tram.
Seconds after leaving the tram, I noticed there was another tram waiting.And then a third one.And then a fourth.
By this stage, I decided there wasn’t much point waiting around for the next tram heading into the city, so I popped down to my local pub instead.
I saw something on Facebook the other week about “Crimson: A Night Of Queer Cabaret” at Lismore’s Star Court Theatre.
The same theatre I went to as a child, mostly on a Saturday morning (with my school friend, Mark Anderson). Back then, children’s tickets were only twenty cents for a double matinee.
A few years later, I remember our whole school attended screenings of the film, “Gallipoli”, starring Mel Gibson and Mark Lee.
By this time, the theatre had been renovated, with a new seating configuration, and with the red chairs replaced by green. There are still green chairs in the theatre now, though I’m not sure if they’re the “originals”.
More recently, I went to the theatre for a “Tropical Fruits Film Festival” screening, part of the annual LGBTQIA+ festival held each year in Lismore.
Last night, the theatre was once again transformed into a “queer space”, as local people, across a range of genders and sexualities, performed everything from stand-up comedy to drag, and all points in between.
One of the co-hosts for Crimson
Though I was probably a little sceptical about the show (not knowing any of the performers), I really enjoyed it. There were a couple of laugh-out-loud moments, including a fun sing-along-song about meeting a woman who “had a big dick”. The whole audience loved it.
There was also a performer called Pippin who sang an impassioned song, which acknowledged both their gender and their disability. Pippin said their mother was in the audience and spoke of the support their mother had provided them in life. Beautiful.
There were a few people I know in the audience, and we chatted with a few over drinks.
An old school friend, Colin was there, and he asked, “Do you want to go to Halloween Party at the Bowling Club”? Sure, why not I thought.
Though kinda imagining a fairly conservative event, mindful of my previous visits to jazz afternoons at the club, we entered a fairly deep dance club space.
As Colin is a musician, we talked about the different styles of music which included jungle and bass. The vibrations through the floor were pretty solid.
As it was a Halloween Night, there were lots of people dressed up. “Hi Colin”, someone said to us from behind a heavily made-up face.
Dance party at Lismore Bowling Club
Anthony Albanese and Dominic Perrottet were in Lismore yesterday, announcing the city’s recovery plans which include housing buy-backs. In all likelihood, the parts of Lismore where I grew up (and still live when I’m back home with family), will be cleared and made into parkland. It’s sad in lots of ways, but also positive too because it means the city can get on with recovery.
Both events last night were wonderful surprises. A sign of hope for the future, and demonstrates there’s plenty of life in Lismore, despite this year’s events.
Even though I’ve only been in Lismore for about 10 days, I find myself so caught up with life here, sometimes, that I forget that I live in Sydney. Last night was one such occasion.
Post Script – Sunday
The bowling club was transformed again into a venue with barefoot bowls and doof-doof.
Last night I had a late night meal at The Tropicana with Colin and Andrew. As we sat on the footpath watching “the young folk” head off to Kings Cross in their shorts and thongs (yes, thongs), I tucked into a tasty chicken rissole dish with a bolognese sauce, which was excellent. The reason we were in the area was to see an earlier cabaret fundraiser at The Stables called “A Night of Crime and Passion”.
As Andrew has already written a fairly comprehensive review of the night, I thought I might just quote you a little of what he had to say…
Last night’s line up of 22 cabaret artistes performered around 25-26 songs. Some artists like Hayden Tee, Phil Scott and Chloe Dallimore are well known and others like the stunning 17 year old Elanoa Rokabaro are just starting to dazzle new audiences. It was wonderful (yes I can tell I’m gushing). The performers chose songs on the theme of Crime & Passion, so there were standards, original songs and even a hilarious intense version of “Guilty” by Banarama and an operatic “Janey’s Got A Gun”. A couple of the performances were ok, but most of them were fantastic. One of the theatre events where the dialogue between the performer and the audience creates something really special.
The only thing I’d was, for me, the most touching moment, when Hayden Tee sang “There’s A Fine, Fine Line” from the musical Avenue Q. Although I’d seen Hayden sing it previously at a much noisier venue in Glebe, the intimacy of the theatre and a strong vocal performance on his part combined to deliver something very memorable. In fact, about half way through the song a little tear rolled down my right cheek. Terrific stuff.
Ever since I heard about Avenue Q about twelve months ago I’ve been listening to it a fair bit. As well as being very touching, it’s also great fun, resembling something kinda like Sesame Street for adults featuring songs like “The Internet Is For Porn”, “What Can You Do With a BA in English” and “Everyone’s A Little Bit Racist”. Or… to quote the official blurb…
AVENUE Q is the story of Princeton, a bright-eyed college grad who comes to New York City with big dreams and a tiny bank account. He soon discovers that the only neighborhood in his price range is Avenue Q; still, the neighbors seem nice. There’s Brian the out-of-work comedian and his therapist fianceé Christmas Eve; Nicky the good-hearted slacker and his roommate Rod — a Republican investment banker who seems to have some sort of secret; an Internet addict called Trekkie Monster; and a very cute kindergarten teaching assistant named Kate. And would you believe the building’s superintendent is Gary Coleman?!? (Yes, that Gary Coleman.) Together, Princeton and his newfound friends struggle to find jobs, dates, and their ever-elusive purpose in life.
If you haven’t heard or seen anything about it, I’d truly recommend it. And I understand it’s coming to Sydney later this year or early next year, though I’ve yet to see any details confirming this.
Although I hadn’t planned it to be so, this weekend turned out to be reasonably social. It started off on Friday night when I went out for a drink with The Other Andrew, and ended this afternoon with a picnic with some of his friends in Newtown Park. “Which park”, I hear you ask. “Oh, you know the one I mean, it’s the park behind the creepy graveyard”, most often inhabited by a variety of Newtown types including goths and emos (or emus as I like to call them). As I wandered into the park around lunch time I cast my eyes around looking for Andrew’s friends wondering exactly which picnic group they were (there were quite a few to choose from). As I headed towards one I stopped suddenly. “Ah no, too young and TOO Newtown”, I thought, before heading over the older, nicer group of people with whom I enjoyed a picnic lunch.
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I didn’t plan to spend all of the afternoon enjoying food and wine at Circular Quay, but somehow it happened.
My friend Kate gave me a call late this morning, asking if I’d like to join her and a friend (visiting from Beijing) for lunch at the MCA (Museum of Contemporary Art).
A good time was had by all, as we enjoyed fish and chips, caesar salad, and lamb kofta with dips. Very nice indeed.
“Shall we have another bottle of wine?”, Kate asked as we completed our meals. “Sure, why not?”, we both agreed.
And from there, we moved slightly down the road towards Cruise Bar, which even though there was a big bloody boat in the road today, ruining our view of the Opera House, was an ideal place to spend most of the afternoon. Unlike Opera Bar on the other side of Circular Quay, it’s far less crowded, the seats are far more comfortable, and the drinks much less expensive. If you’ve never been there, I’d highly recommend it.
Unlike yesterday’s melanoma-inducing case of sunburn, today’s exposure to sunlight was more of a gentle dose of healthy Vitamin D.
I can’t remember the last time I got a nightclub stamp. Aside from the first glow-in-the-dark stamp I received twenty years or so ago from Tracks nightclub in Brisbane, nightclub stamps are mostly fairly forgettable. But the one I got tonight from Cube nightclub in Canberra has to go down in history as the first one I’ve ever seen based around a daytime tv quiz show.
As with the last time we came to Canberra, Sam and I have travelled by bus. It’s fast (only slightly longer than driving), cheap (much less than hiring a car), and reasonably comfortable. That said, the air conditioner did struggle with Sydney’s high temperatures.
As we travelled we chatted, read, listened to music, dozed, and looked out at the rural NSW landscape. “It’s a lot greener than the last time we travelled to Canberra” (twelve months ago), I said to Sam, and then seconds later realised the side windows of the bus were tinted green.
Nightclub Stamp
Along the way, we spotted a couple of things that made us laugh/cry. We felt incredibly sorry for the fully-decorated wedding limousine (presumably containing a bride) which had been pulled over by the police for speeding. And we laughed at the road sign declaring “Rydges Canberra” was ”now four stars”. “So what were they previously?”. I said to Sam. “Have they gone up from three stars or down from five?”
Soon after arriving in Canberra, Patrick picked us up from the bus centre, and we then proceeded to have a bit to eat at “Edgars Inn” at the Ainslie Shops, followed by a drink at “Tilleys” at the Lyneham Shops.
It’s a delightfully quaint naming tradition from Canberra – that everywhere seems to be called “the shops” – that we’ve decided we just have to bring it back to Sydney. “Where shall we meet”? someone can ask. “I’ll meet you at the Potts Point Shops”, another can reply. “Where do you live?”, I can be asked. “I live just behind the Surry Hills Shops”, I can reply.
As we came back to Patrick’s place we chatted and listened to a variety of musical styles that spanned Marilyn Manson to Melodifestivalen.
After a suitable rest period, we headed out for a bit of a night on the town, visiting a number of bars, including the Canberra-cool of “Hipp” (five dollar entry), located right above “The Happy Chinese” and “The Kremlin” which must have the busiest toilet in Australia. The music is good, the surroundings are great, the crowd lacking in pretension. But for some reason or other, there always seems to be a regular flow of people to and from the toilets. “It’s like those clown cars”, I said to Patrick at one point, where seemingly hundreds of clowns emerge one by one from a tiny car.
Our evening ended with a dance and a drink at Cube. For just a moment I was transported back to my European trip last year when “September” came on with “Cry For You”, and the wonderful refrain of “You’ll never see me again”. And that’s where I got this stupid nightclub stamp from.
I caught the ferry to Manly to go to Nordic Fusion, a Scandinavian design store, that also stocks a range of Swedish food and drink – Svensk mat och dryck – including, Glögg. I remember having tasted mulled wine many years ago at a dinner party at Wentworth, near Mildura on the NSW/Victorian border. I think I was about 25 or 26 and it was all very exotic for a young man who had spent most of his life living in rural and regional Australia.
Many years later, it was with some trepeditation that I approached the store to purchase three bottles of the stuff to take along to my Swedish class tonight. I’d called Nordic Fusion a day earlier and told them what I wanted and why. As I entered the store, there were a couple of other customers looking at hand-bags, sound systems and other such things. My bottles of Glögg were tagged in the fridge out the back. In an absolute bargain, they gave me an extra bottle for free. And then one of the women began to speak with me in Swedish.
“Oh my goodness”, I thought to myself. This is the real thing, speaking Swedish to a real Swede. I stammed out a few words, explaining that I only spoke a little Swedish, and that I was planning to travel there later in the year. Shyly, I left the store, totally appreciative of the way they had treated me so kindly, especially counting out the change in Swedish etc. That said, I really have to gain some confidence in speaking with real life Swedes, rather than just my classmates.
Glogg
We had a great time at tonight’s class which, focussing on food, involved everyone bringing along some kind of food item. The cakes and sweets were, as our teacher said, the best in the world. I also really loved the pickled herring and meatballs. And the Glögg? Well, I thought it was okay. Everyone seemed to enjoy it, warmed and with raisons and almonds, though it was perhaps a little sickly sweet for me. I still have a bottle left at home, by the way, for those cold winter nights which are almost upon us.
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One Comment
Your alternative to going by tram to where you supposed to go and then going off to the pub is funny. The L2 and L3 have improved their service since opening but the dealing with problems and breakdowns is hopeless. Nothing to learn from Melbourne’s old tram system though.
Your alternative to going by tram to where you supposed to go and then going off to the pub is funny. The L2 and L3 have improved their service since opening but the dealing with problems and breakdowns is hopeless. Nothing to learn from Melbourne’s old tram system though.