The Enmore Clarrion

Dear Cat and Kell (and Chris I suppose)

My own eccentricities of dress and deportment, calf length pale khaki cargoes with braces over white tummy touting tee, black ankle socks and work boots, could not begin to compete at the blue moon festival in Enmore this afternoon. I’ve been taking advantage as best as possible of the new eight hour Saturday regime at Bunnings and left work at three PM adding what seemed like an additional day to this long weekend. Without any plan I let gravity, my favourite force, lead me to one of those tankards of red at The Duke where I encountered the Goths in all their corseted Absinth beauty. One even featured, through a daring split in her floor length fitted skirt, fish nets that ended at the knee from where the leg itself was replaced by hi-tek chromium artificial leg that must have been the envy of her scarified and piercing peers.

Reluctantly leaving this splendour in favour of a take away, I stepped from The Duke into the path of a very handsome horse drawn hearse complete with coffin and could, had there been musical accompaniment, have been an extra in ‘St James Infirmary Rag’ the movie. This and the accompanying 1940’s restored Cadillac hearse, not to mention the fifties powder blue Cadillac hearse featuring the signs ‘weird tours’ and ‘scary Sydney’, in procession brought my attention to the street where all the way to Newtown was black with Goth.

Taking the irresistible tour I discovered the marketers. Most who you’d find at any market had here taken the precaution of wearing black and featuring wares only in black or pillar box red. Most of the colour in this cloth black and skin white phenomena comes from lipstick ‘ruby’ and hair colour ‘cerise and blue’ making me wonder what Joeys may have to do with Goths. The favoured site was that outside ‘T.J.Andrews Funeral Directors’ of course and maybe not so surprisingly the second was adjacent to ‘70, 24 hours OPEN’ and subtitled ‘Fallen Angles’ all in equal font neon. The girl with the pink and blue tattooed bows across her insteps was cute and all told there was an air of cheer though none seemed able to embrace me as brother, parent or even dearly departed. I’m thinking of having my body tattooed with an evening suit, ruff shirt and bow tie the lot, so that if ever inconveniently caught on the way home from work by another such parade I can simply doff my clothes and enter into the spirit.

Yes, yes you’re right I don’t have the figure anymore for a buff evening suit tattoo.

Now it’s tomorrow and I’m woken an hour late (daylight saving) by a cacophony of animal noises. It’s quite fascinating here in Stanmore, directly under the flight path and right on the rail line, to be most often woken by animal noise. Birds, all of whom seem to fancy themselves as roosters, announce the dawn in all manner of raucousness and alert the dogs who love any excuse to sound off. Interesting isn’t it that of all of evolutions creations the birds seem to be the loudest and rawest. Perhaps if others could so easily escape recrimination by flight they would also indulge their vocal chords. I know I enjoy a good old discordant whoopee now and then.

Alice’s graduation went off as quickly and efficiently as such a boring procedure can last Monday, over a hundred graduates I suspect. She now has a piece of paper to adorn an office wall in years to come and even better, as you’ll only find out from a proud father, a distinction average that will enable her should she ever wish, to undertake a doctoral degree. Jane Jack and I celebrated with Alice at an early evening Spanish dinner in the city followed as such occasions demand, by karaoke at a Korean lounge in Goulburn Street. Here in a semi soundproofed private room with built in lounge accommodation for about six people, a giant screen treated us to video snapshots of waves etc as well as the words to songs we could pick from a menu book and request via a hand console. Great fun making our way through Kokomo and such with the two hand held mikes, though a great deal was lost in translation. All the music, Gershwin to Grateful Dead, seemed to have been recorded by an Om-Pah band and the lyric prompt was apt to be out of sink or completely wrong. I don’t expect I shall go back but don’t let me discourage you young’ns. It struck me that it might be well patronised by Asian students who lack the privacy of motor cars and need somewhere to take that special friend. They might then not notice the afore mentioned limitations.

Now it’s Monday, tomorrow was yesterday, (Mmm… good song title, might copyright it) when members of my family took turns preying on my weakness for alcohol. Hugh came to lunch but was late and I was half way through my first beaker when he suggested, positively, that as we were both having red he would get a bottle. That bottle and our meals finished he suggested, positively again, one for the road on my account would even the tables. How reasonable I thought returning with two jorums of house, now if I can just stay above the table. Meanwhile Jack had rung with an invite to watch the grand final at The Observer in The Rocks and not one to disappoint I abandoned my car at Enmore and bussed it to town. Sparkling white is Alice’s favoured drop and she likes to share and as I said I don’t like to disappoint. Luckily I spilt quite a full glass, better out than in as they say, and sparkling is the invisible ink of wines stain wise. Now I’ve spent most of today thinking this head ache would go rather than getting on with it. Thanks folks. Oh and someone won the football, how predictable is that?

Many of you would not be aware that here at this field by the rail line in Petersham they still play a game that was the origin of all field games. The object of the game was and is to dump a member of the opposing team or all members of the opposing team or members of your own team or yourself if all this gets too hard into the mud wallow near the fence. It’s a bit dry and overgrown due to water restrictions now but it’s still very popular in the rain and a great spectator sport especially now with a growing women’s league.

That’s all for now

Aunty