Archive for October, 2012

No props, no lights, no stage.

Costumes – minimal, black.

The dark Scottish play

At its darkest, starkest.

Only language, voice, movement.


Wicked sisters’ plot to meet again, and

We are witnesses,

Contracted & committed

To the fateful chain it invokes.

Accomplices riveted to end.

Engagement broken only

By rapturous applause.


This performance of Macbeth was from The Nimrod Theatre Company. It is perhaps one of my favourite memories of High School. One of the reasons it is a favourite is that the venue (in my mind) contributed to the impact of the production. This is a big problem though – I remember this performance as being held in the Crypt of St Mary’s Cathedral … and the trusted colleagues with whom I’ve discussed this memory – Garry Cockle, Jenny Hawes, Ruth Totenhofer – all remember the performance being held at The Nimrod Theatre.

When the hurly burly’s done, I guess I have to concede … my memory is flawed. But it is my memory.

My “dream” venue for a production of Macbeth – the Crypt of St Mary’s Cathedral

Read Full Post »

The school hosts

Visiting troupe of professionals

Sportsmen? Entertainers? Educators?

Uniforms clearly identifying


Generous contributor to a new, essential

Life skill.

They provide tools,

Show the fun,

Teach the skills of …


Wondrous tricks with spinning discs

They make them whistle, sleep, walk, almost talk, certainly bite.

We’re hooked.


This entry was prompted by a picnic yesterday with old Penrith buddies Ian Elliott, Paul Kenny, Bill Joyner, & Merril Worrad.

Bill (of course) produced a couple of yoyos and away we went. It was like riding a bike, the skills passed on by those representatives of the ubiquitous Cola company emerged from the depths, perhaps a little rusty but largely unscathed by the passage of time.

Read Full Post »

Surfer mates travel

To find water with waves.

Weekend camping trip,


Potential side benefits alluring,

I tag along.

Barefoot walk,

Toe stubbed, splinter embedded.

No medical gear.

Removal operation:

Paul Smith** opens flesh with

Scalpel fashioned first from

Coke can ring-pull

Then sardine can tin lid.

Success!! Survive. Infectionless.


* Windang is south of Wollongong and sits on a strip[ of land with Lake Illawarra to the west and the Pacific Ocean to the east.

** I think it was Paul, who wasn’t one of the surfers in our group – he also tagged along.

Read Full Post »

Safely indoors,

Lifetimes sweep before us

Full of paradox, contradiction,

Curiosity, absurdity,

Overwhelming beauty,

Fears lurking, kept at bay

By trusted friends.

A world with no time

Experiences moving breakneck speed

Immersing us in a single moment.

Finest details magnified, becoming solar systems.

Everything is clear, nothing is real.


Side 2 of The Small Faces‘ Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake seemed to define the entire night. It’s narrated by Stanley Unwin who developed a language of his own Unwinese … you’ll hear (and see) him at the end of this track.

To listen Stanley tell the whole story of Happiness Stan’s search for the missing half of the moon, click here.

And for anyone who likes The Small Faces this links to around 25 minutes of a 1968 TV performance (Colour Me Pop) from them … playing much of Ogden’s.

Read Full Post »

Same path for return route.

It’s different!

Everything changed &

Changing continually.

Walk becomes journey, adventure.

This band of adventurers

Battles through

Time stretching, streets melting,

Flowers, plants, trees

Lifecycles exposed

In time-lapsed photographic sequences.

We’ve entered strange worlds.


We all see it.



Return journey completed.


Read Full Post »

Our party (in parallel) hasn’t kicked in … yet.

Sun, not yet set.

Clear Light.

600m walk to my place*


Collect some extra vinyl

Nick some food.

We arrive …

And so does a weird feeling

Of creeping change.

Records collected, a quick bite.

We head back.

Change not creeping now,


Note & Extra:

* The map in Short Memory #288 shows you where we had to walk though one of the streets is now no longer there. It was parallel to Reserve St and about 80m to the South of Reserve. A short street (can’t recall the name – someone help me) joining Station & Woodriffe Streets. Our path (I think) was west along Derby until Woodriffe, south along Woodriffe until the missing street, west along that one until Station St and then the 50-60m to my place at 138. The return walk followed the same route but …

School taught one and one is two
Right now, that just ain’t true!

Read Full Post »

Preparations at Derby St

Freshly carpeted friend’s home.

Lounge room cleared

Cushions & stereo remain.

Small gathering, closest friends only.

Around the corner, my home

Bigger party preparations,

F & B deliveries all day for

Panthers Directors’ Christmas Party …

A sumptuous night, that can overflow.

Parallel parties, different worlds?

Different parties, parallel worlds?

The Locations

Read Full Post »

Hundreds of people

Many I know or

Know of …

A cool gathering.

Coolest of the year, … perhaps coolest ever!!

Region’s counter-culture population

Converge into the Roberts’ home*

On the GW Highway at Blaxland.

Despite the love,

Or because of it,

Tensions rise

An eruption feels imminent.

Stay alert, anything could happen.


* The home of Megan Roberts, a year ahead of me and a respected character around whom many cool people gravitated.

Read Full Post »

Every day at Wyangala Dam

Is a full day, full of skiing.

Our friends, The McHugh’s

Are with us.

Their boat, in dock daily.

Subjected to endless tinkering of Tom’s spanner,

Starts … occasionally! Momentarily.

We are a family, mechanically inept,

Not knowing wrench from spanner.

Sometimes inconvenient,

Often a blessing.

Read Full Post »

The convoy heads west,

Ski boats in tow.

Convoy heads west – Lithgow, Bathurst, Blayney, Cowra, Wyangala

Lithgow, Bathurst, Blayney.

Wyangala Dam.

Camping, skiing.

Quickly start boat, exploring … skier in tow.

Hilly terrain surrounds lake.

Standing out against parched hills, sheep – everywhere.

Mum: Look at all those sheep dotting that hill.

Peter: What hill?

… we discover he needs specs.


Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: