On the Road with The Needle and the Damage Done - Week Two
27th February 2009
February 12th - Where we elect not to swim.
To SALE
It's a toss-up which is the most impressive aspect of our visit to Sale. On the one hand we're greeted at the snappily named Esso BHP Billiton Wellington Entertainment Centre (did they have a competition for that title?), by THREE people mopping the stage, which was so caring, unlikely and industrious that I could have pashed them all. On the other, it turns out that our motel, modelled along the ‘1970's faux Spanish medieval dungeon hacienda' style, was once owned by Pixie Skase.
Now that's exciting; I haven't been so thrilled by a third-hand brush with 80's excess since discovering that the 24/7, floridly over-decorated doctor's surgery (pink consulting rooms with purple and gold doors), that opened 18 months ago in St Kilda, belongs to none other than the undead Liberace of medicine, Dr Geoffrey Edelston.
Our motel impresses for many reasons, not just because some of Pixie Skase's actual shedded skin must be floating around and lodged a corner somewhere. For one, there is a small swimming pool fenced off in the middle of the car park, marooned sadly in a sea of concrete like a lone elephant in a cut-price zoo exhibit.
For another, it is the only motel I've ever been in which provides a ‘Compendium' advising of the range of condoms they have available, and a full toxicology report on the hand soaps and body lotions they provide for guests. Five pages of Hazards Identification, Emergency Overview, Ingredients, Potential Health Effects, Toxicological Information (single oral dose has not been determined, alas, so suicide by ingesting Lanolin shower gel probably not an option), Ecotoxicity, Environmental Information, Disposal Considerations, and Transportation. Attention to detail? High five, our motel.
The car park is a definite treasure trove.
Interpret at will. Of course, the slower they are, the easier they are to run over...
We love Sale. It has vacant, overgrown blocks, and abandoned, elegantly decaying buildings, two of my favourite things which are in short supply in inner city Melbourne. Not that real estate is tight in Melbourne, but if you leave a bucket of soil out on the pavement, someone will have built four studio apartments with BIR on it by the end of the week.
Sale also boasts a fine example of one of the most endearing qualities of country towns - shops which provide an unlikely combination of services and products. Toys and tobacco? Genius. Probably explains those slow children - they've all got emphysema.
The theatre is really nice - new, well designed, intimate. All goes well. Quote of the day from a lady in the audience.
Me - "So are you local?"
Lady - "Nah. I haven't lived here 30 years yet".
Kat discovers that, using the remote, she can open our hire car (in the loading dock), from the sound booth (at the front of the theatre), about 100 metres and three walls away. This is handy, but am concerned we're going to be sterile from ambient radiation by the end of the tour.
Our techs - Brendan, Craig and Ben - are friendly and alert. This is not a given, so colour me impressed and grateful. Even more impressed that Ben manages to order The Shaggs off the internet before the song has finished playing. Ben also boasts a large collection of keys, dangling in his groinal region, which in terms of tech heirarchy - excuse me while I go a bit ‘Gorillas In The Mist' - means that he's the ‘silverback' or ‘alpha male' of the group.
Final note. If you're looking for an excellent breakfast in Sale, look no further than Tall Poppy. Boy, can they poach an egg....
February 14th - Where we receive a tremendous surprise.
To SHEPPARTON
Ah, Shepparton, city of multicoloured cows and more mystery than an Agatha Christie novel. We've hardly begun unloading at the Riverlinks Centre before I have a peculiar and discombobulating conversation with Brenton, our tech de jour.
Me - ‘So, how many audience are we expecting?'
Brenton - ‘About 80. But...' - ominous pause - ‘There's something I have to tell you'.
Me (mind scrabbling like a dog on lino, getting nowhere) - ‘What?'
Brenton - "No-one knows anything about the show."
Me - "Eh?".
Brenton - "Yeah, we have this thing called Black Box, where the audience buys tickets to a mystery show, and we don't tell them what the show is or anything about it".
Me - "And that would be my show?"
Brenton - "Yes".
Me - "80 people are coming to my show, and they have NO idea of what they're coing to see?"
Brenton - "Yes".
Me (After I've finished laughing maniacally) - "Interesting that you didn't tell me either".
Brenton - "Yes. No. No, they don't tell the artists for some reason. Last time it was (well-known Australian band whose name is suppressed to protect their crankiness). They totally cracked the sh*ts".
And so it came to pass, gentle reader, that I came to perform The Needle in front of 80 intrepid Sheppartonians, perhaps 10 of whom were under 60. It was a total gas. The show went off like a cracker in a nutsack, and about half the audience hung around for a vino afterwards.
Quote of the day, from a divine elderly lady.
"You know, one of the young people came up to me a minute ago. They were worried that I might have been offended by the show because it's a little risque. Honestly, I don't know where they think they came from."
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Member Comments
Administrator Arts Margaret River
Doone McAlary
(): 16th Jun 09
Fiona - love reading your blog. I have been laughing away when I should be attending to more serious matters. You are coming to our venue in Margaret River WA on 2 July. Am looking forward to it. See you then.
