Last night I organised Friday night drinks at Sean's, in hope of revivifying the institution of Friday-night-drinks-at-the-pub on an at least fortnightly basis (a la the old Carlton Inn days). I don't think much of myself as a social facilitator (I don't have the knack of making people come and gather) so I was quite pleased when about half a dozen people turned up, one of whom I'd never seen before.
Alice is a bit strapped for watering holes -- pleasant watering holes. There's plenty of XXXX Tavern type places. There's a bar whose name I forget in the Mall that tries to be modern (lots of stainless steel, primary colours and vinyl) but fails miserably. There's The Lane -- a supposedly upmarket joint with nice wines and tapas -- but you have to be in the right mood for that. And there's Sean's, the Irish pub opposite the Kmart carpark, where you can vege out under cover in a beer garden. It's atmospheric without being, well, menacing. A bit like a Sydney push type pub, before the days of mass yuppification.
While we were having drinks I noticed a Native American delegate from the desert conference having a drink with an old colleague of mine in the corner. We said 'hi' again. You don't often see Native Americans in Australia, and I was quite taken with her dramatic self-presentation -- long thick black hair, a distinctively weathered face, long aqua blue dress and a lot of aqua jewellery. It's sobering to think that if America hadn't been colonised in the way it has been, the face of America wouldn't be so hegemonically white (which it isn't really), but rather more Asiatic, if anything.
After drinks, I went to an art exhibition opening at a small gallery in one of the industrial parts of town with A, a rather out-there dv lawyer. The exhibition was of a series of Centralian style paintings -- storms, deserts, dogs, camels -- and more abstracted numbers using desert type colours. It's a while since I've seen any art that's not Aboriginal. I've forgotten the name of the artist already, but she's planning an exhibition of camel paintings in Sydney. It was a pretty Centralian style event, with lots of kids and dogs wandering in and out of the gallery.
Then I went and saw the late screening of Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. I felt like a bit of fluff, so I wasn't disappointed at that level. I seem to remember, tho, that when I read the book, it was a bit more developed than what's presented in the film (the book's based on Persuasion, if I remember rightly). There were some annoying moments in this film, like the lesbianism bit, the fight between Darcy and Cleaver, and the Coke sign admonitions. In fact, I thought Margaret and David's summations of the film were pretty accurate this time. I agree with Margaret that what's good about this film is the way in which it gets a lot of female insecurities about relationships right. And with David that Darcy is not a particularly attractive character (but that's true to form too!) Although I think Renee Zellweger has done a surprisingly good job with Bridget (she's kooky enough -- and she does seem to talk in that strange halting way in real life), I'm not sure that I find her a very attractive character either. She's endearing up to a point with all her bumbling and so forth, but I think she should show herself to have some substance and well, something going for her. Laura, a barrister friend of mine from London, said her response on reading BJ's diary was: 'Is that all we're meant to be?' The dynamic which seemed to be developing in Bridget and Darcy's relationship was a parent-child one (not surprising, given the personalities involved). I couldn't stand being yelled at as tho I was a child, personally, which happens a couple of times in the film (fussy, aint I?) But yes, the fluff quotient was met.
So, I wonder if there'll be any more of BJ? I guess they could go on to do Bridget and Darcy have kids. And what is 'turkey curry buffet'?
Tomorrow I'm thinking of taking up the Cycling Club's kind invite to meet them at the Hungry Jack's carpark at 7 am for a 'social ride'. (This isn't as mad as it sounds on account of the increasing heat). I've been waiting for a weekend where I feel tip-top and the sleep quotient has been met. I still feel much status anxiety about my bike, and imagine myself to be left straggling way behind with the kids and the old codgers or perhaps by myself like the crippled boy in the Pied Piper. I've come to terms with my medal by saying that even if I had had a better bike and had done a better time, I still would have come second, so it doesn't really matter.
I mentioned to my physio that I'd been thinking of going on the social ride and he said he had too, though thre are terrible headwinds from all directions at the moment. I thought, oh great, that's all I need, my whippersnapper physio (he still has pimples) to see me in lycra, struggling to keep up with everyone else. Whippersnapper physio came out from England to ride around Australia on his bike (as you do) and ended up living in a flat at the Old People's Home, working as their physio, before he was nabbed by one of the physios in town who sponsored him to stay. The first time I saw the whippersnapper physio, I wore a really decrepit old bra. Not on purpose; it was one of those things were you think: 'I can get away with this, no one's going to see me undressed today'. A thought which comes back to haunt you later in the day when of course, you have to take off top to show young whippersnapper physio the state of your back. It was extremely embarrassing as it was an old mauve lace bra (nice in its time) that was now close to pornographic. I guess he sees all types, but now go wearing something close to a breast-plate. Anyway, physio is most pleased with me as I have almost gotten shoulderblades to lie flat on my back 'like dinner plates', which is apparently the right thing to draw your shoulders down away from your ears as you sit at a keyboard. The odd thing is that I do feel a bit stronger from strange pesky physio exercises, and now feel I can sit much longer at the keyboard without getting weary. Which isn't the aim of the project, as all physios hate computers and don't want to hear that you have plans to spend long periods in front of them. Whippersnapper physio thinks that one day we will evolve to adapt to computer usage (sounds rather Lamarckian to me).
So that's tomorrow -- possible cycling in heat and head winds at ridiculous early hour. Today, I hoped to do Something Useful and Significant with my life, but I seem to have ended up blogging again. In fact, I imagine one of my cousin's sprogs saying to his sprog in sixty years' time: 'And this is what Strange Cousin Elsewhere left behind: some cat photos and this' ... holding up a ramstick containing the blog. (Actually, my archival, family-historian-type cousin would be delighted if someone had left something behind as comprehensive as a blog.)
The other possibility is to go and have a spa at Matt and Alicia's place, i.e. their new house with its spa. Alice is heavily into pools and spas (I'd be tempted to get one, if I had the space.) Alicia is away at the moment and Matt seems rather forlorn in the way of men-with-partners-away -- as well as having a weekend of marking to do. So I've been invited to come round with champers, some time, any time (they don't seem to know their phone number). Well, I guess I could do that too -- go round and have a spa with someone else's husband while their partner's away... (Don't worry, I don't usually do this kind of thing.)
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