It must be film festival time because Sbg is blogging again. C and I went to see You, The Living at the Dendy Quays: one of the things I like about the film festival is that you can see a slow-paced, deadpan black comedy about mortality and brass bands in a cinema which is packed full of people who also find that sort of thing funny.
We also went to the Heritage Belgian beer cafe for the second weekend running. We caught up with my parents, who are just back from a month in Europe. And we also caught up with my girls, who are just back from a week in Fiji with their mum and stepdad, and who I am still missing because they won’t be back at my place till tomorrow night. Despite all this it was a pretty quiet and relaxing weekend, and I wish I were still there.
That night the twins are playing in a concert at the Opera House: it’s definitely the season for kid’s concerts. At the Opera House these days there seem to be more people there to take the tours than see shows, and one of the packages includes the chance to stand on the stage of the Concert Hall, which is a completely unimpressive offer if you grew up in Sydney and did any school music activities. Last week at Sonny Rollins it occurred to me that, if I don’t count my parents’ and other relatives’ houses, the Concert Hall is the only location from my high school years which I revisit as an adult. There was nothing spectacular about my appearances: I was a boy who did music and whose voice had broken, so I was automatically qualified to sing wobbly, reedy bass in combined choirs.
Although once I did see Joan Sutherland in the green room. That woman had the biggest head I have ever seen on a human being.