Fundraiser sluttage

I've attend two political fundraisers recently, both in search of an evening's entertainment rather a political vision or camaderie ('comradeship'). The first was a Greens fundraiser, the debut screening of Hotel Rwanda in Alice -- being a Greens fundraiser, it had to be a shattering and paradigm-confronting experience, one dealing with the extreme edge of human systemic evil, i.e. genocide.  (Actually, the film did turn 'genocide' and 'mass grave' into more than just glib terms for me, and I got my head round the Rwandan conflict a bit more.)  J and I went stumbling out into the Mall afterwards, feeling somewhat thwarted in our original plan to have a meal and a drink afterwards.  I'd eaten a few rice crackers and a small bowl of soup beforehand, which is probably the equivalent of what Gwynneth or Kylie would eat in a week, but not enough for moi.  But somehow, drinking and eating didn't feel straight right after Hotel Rwanda. We drifted down to Sporty's, all the same, had a brief look at the wine list, then thought, what are we doing here?  Let's go to The Lane.  This restaurant/bar is really only the decent place to drink, in my opinion in Alice, apart from Sean's Irish pub (which has reasonable atmosphere).  The Lane's a bit concrete-y and stainless-steeley, in the way of Sydney eateries and pubs, but it does have a very good wine list and tapas.  (But woeful pizzas - soggy bases.  They haven't got that right yet.) But when we got to The Lane, there was one of those Australiana type musos playing -- 'Dingo Dirk' or whoever.  So we thought, we really cannot sit there, drink good red wine, talk about genocide and listen to badly rendered Australian folk music.  The only solution seemed to be to go to the bar (of forgettable name), diagonally opposite, which looks like a TAB with a few retro lounges thrown in and a lot of men in blue stubbies holding their beer in Fosters coolers (do they bring them from home?) and a few blond, be-shorted backpackers for good measure. J and I bought a glass of house wine each and immediately regretted it.  Their wine list was pretty ho hum, and we didn't plan on staying...but for some reason, the 'house' music they were playing was a better background to genocide than Dingo Dirk. When we could bear the house wine no longer, and we could see that Dingo Dirk had packed up for the night, we headed back to The Lane.  Ah, decent food and wine at last, at a decent, stomach-pacifying interval from Hotel Rwanda. But no, the kitchen had closed 10 minutes ago at 9.30 pm.  Evidently, Dingo Dirk was meant to accompany consumption.  J and I tried begging with different waiters ('don't you have a pizza that no one ate or something') but to no avail.  Drank two glasses of decent red.  Then finally, at about 10.30 pm, one of the waiters took pity on us and brought us some stale Italian ciabatta with olive oil, that we wolfed down.  The next day, I had a terrible hangover. End of Alice eating/fundraiser experience # 1. This week I went to an ALP fundraiser.  The last ALP fundraiser was the debut screening of Million Dollar Baby -- the ALP prefers to appeal to the struggle of the 'battler' these days, rather than structural oppression, systemic 'evil', etc.  This fundraiser was in a Chinese restuarant, the Oriental Gourmet, an ominous title recalling the Golden Inn of my childhood.  C, the woman whom I went with, said her partner calls one of the Chinese Restuarants in town the 'Golden Staph.'  Also ominous was the promise of a banquet menu -- I'm yet to have a good 'banquet' in an Asian restuarant.  I reckon 'banquet' means chucking all the LCD, easy to cook food on the table. C and I arrived tastefully late to three Lazy-Susanned tables of women, and one man (a local ALP big wheel).  The only other man to come was one of my bosses (the medical one), who seemed somehow not to have realised it was a women's only fundraiser, and had left his wife at home minding the kids. (Tjilpi: you will know whom this is.) There was much wearing of black and purple (ALP women's colours) and a mystery guest, who still remains a mystery to me as I've forgotten her name and apparently she was until recently a Fed MP, tho I don't remember her.  (Which raises the interesting question of whether it might be better to be a memorable than a non-memorable MP.) First off the blocks and onto the Lazy Susans were dim sims and springs rolls.  I was hoping that the dim sims would turn out to be something tasteful like those seafood ball things you get in Sydney Thai restaurants but it wasn’t – it was a common or garden dim sim and pork to boot (gah!).  I gagged, and decided to forego the opportunity of the spring roll as well.  This was followed by some kind of chicken soup (close to the canned kind), followed by fried rice, chicken something, beef something and lemon chicken. It was MSG city. I decided the lemon chicken was safe (it was recognisable).  The fried rice looked pretty much the same as the packet stuff from my childhood, with the tiny orange prawns.  I said to C, you realise this comes from a packet, and she said, surely not!, but I'm sure I've seen packets of the stuff in some of the kitchens I've worked in. On the good side, I saw my old, old boss and her glamorous youngest daughter for the first time in ages.  Boss seemed jittery; she had been on the campaign trail for weeks, out in the communities.  She said, 'you girls should come and help on election day, hand out 'how to vote' cards, do some scrutineering.' C agreed.  I thought, Oh, dear.  They seem to think I am one of the ALP faithful.  But then -- a day on a bush polling booth, think of the experience!  And...it seems like the ALP needs a bit of a hand, after all.  Could claim membership as tax deduction, I guess. Hmm...but am I a social chameleon?  Does this desire to morph into different storylines and identities suggests I would have made a good spy or investigative journalist…. probably the latter rather than the former, as height would draw too much attention to me as a spy (easier to track in crowds, etc).  Also, would probably trip over something (like a landmine) at an inopportune moment as a spy. So, stay tuned and watch this space!

Comments

[Bathsheba]

Yes, do join. The ALP needs smart, brave people who aren't slavish factional victims. Or fashion victims either. Please, please, pretty please?

I've joined recently, it's good. Takes a while to get your head around who's who. Make sure you don't get co-opted too quickly. You only need to attend four branch meetings in two years to vote in preselections, but all the other stuff begins right away (some things require 12 months membership). Then you can be a force for good!