Lower Lakes: Day Three - Much Better...

A much more enjoyable day. We got up late, broke our fast in a most leisurely manner, and hit the road at 8.30. The only downer was that my rear tyre was flat, and was showing some real signs of fatigue. Bulging, perishing etc. I knew the tyre was old, but I hadn't noticed this degree of damage previously. I pumped up the tube and decided to ride my luck, as well as my bike. Please, please, please, no blowouts.
The wind had, unsurprisingly, turned around on itself so we rode back up the Princes Highway into a delightful northerly. At least it wasn't as strong as the previous two days.
Once we tuned the corner and headed west, things improved considerably. We circumnavigated Lake Albert at a good speed, the wind behaved itself, and the sun shone. It reminded me why I ride my bike. Beautiful scenery, lovely blue-sky weather, and a fast ride. We got back to camp reasonably early in the afternoon, around 1.30. I had to switch my tyres and tubes, but after that it was time for a few beers, firstly at the cheese factory, then at the footy club.

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Lower Lakes: Days One & Two - Wind, bloody wind.

Probably the best thing I can say about the first two days is that they are over and done with.
Only 47 clicks on the first day, from Murray Bridge to Langhorne Creek, but it was tough. The first half was OK, in fact it was downright enjoyable, but once we turned right onto Wellington Road everything changed. Black clouds, and a wind straight from Hell. In a nutshell, it was probably the strongest wind I have ever faced. The only good thing about the gale was that it blew the storm just to one side of us.
To say I was relieved to make camp is an understatement.
We stopped at the pub, exhausted and sweaty, on the way in to Langhorne Creek so we could watch the running of the Caulfield Cup, and also to enjoy a very welcome pint. I asked the barman if he'd be willing to show the Manchester United v Liverpool match later that night. He said "probably", which was enough for me.
After the evening's entertainment, Ray and I staggered back up to the pub to watch United draw 1-1 with the rat-eaters. We got back to camp sometime early on Sunday morning...
When I was jarred awake by the sound of idiots talking loudly, I questioned the wisdom of staying up so late. Too late for regrets. It was another really tough day, 80 kilometres pretty much directly into a horrible headwind. South, straight down the Princes Highway, straight into the wind. For f*ck's sake. Anyhow, we made it, I survived. Then I had a beer. Or ten.

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Lower Lakes: Day Zero - All Set?

Fit enough? I hope so...
Odd jobs done? Who cares.
All packed? As far as I can tell.
Looking forward to it? You bet.

Let's get it on...

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Down at the Brunswick

Tonight I think I will head down to the Duke of Brunswick Hotel to play a few songs. Because of my Ethelton Entertaners' commitments, and a few other obstacles & issues, I haven't played any of my own stuff for a few weeks. I am away all of next week so tonight is my only chance to have a little original music fun.
This will be the second time I've played at The Brunswick. I went down on the night the open mic started up and I had the pleasure of being the first act of the evening. I played Shining Light, Wish I Was You and Say Goodbye, and it all went very well.
It seems like a pretty groovy venue, it's on my side of town, so I'm hoping it will be around for a while to come.
Now I need to find some more real gigs!

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The Railway Children

Tonight I indulged my inner child and watched The Railway Children. I remember my mum taking me to see it at the pictures when I was very young, and also sitting through it a few times on television back in the day. I probably last watched it sometime in the middle 1970s, so it's been a while...

What a delightful way to spend a couple of hours. The film is little more that a collection of episodes, I suspect they are chapters from the book, with a hint of plotline that just about holds the film together. It describes an almost-heavenly existence in an idyllic Yorkshire village, where innocence abounds, the crises are manageable, and there is hope in every passing train.

I doubt a village like ever really existed but, if it did, I'd move tomorrow.

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Spring into spring

I love this time of year. The days are lengthening, and the sun feels warmer. The buds on the plants are bursting into life, and the lawn is growing madly. Tomatoes are in, and the winter greens are finished. It is daylight when I walk to work, and I am greeted by the new-born ducklings and their protective parents most mornings. I can leave the windows open longer in the evenings, and I doubt I’ll be using the heating again this year. The baby swallows have learned to fly, so the car roof is almost free of swallow crap. I wake up to birdsong. I can smell blossom and freshly-mowed lawns wherever I go.
I wish it could be springtime every day.

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That's Entertainment!

The 2011 season of the Ethelton Entertainers has been and gone. This year I played guitar, rather than bass, as part of the EE band. I had to cede my bass playing duties to a man with an upright bass - not only did the upright bass deserve a place in the band on aesthetic merits alone, but Kym is a much better player than me. In any event, it allowed me to road test my new Telecaster. Which was nice.
On each of the nine nights, when the time was right, I left my orchestra post and took to the stage for a song or two. It only happens once every 12 months, but I love singing the old cabaret numbers. Over the years I've performed such classics as Summertime, All of Me, Pretend, Wee Wee Hours, Something Stupid, Dream Lover, This Guy's In Love With You, and a host of others. The rat pack would be proud. This year I sang Mean to Me, a song I first heard on Dean Martin's 1960 This Time I'm Swingin' album, a record that still means so much to me, largely because of where I was in my life when I initially came across it. I picked it up for a couple of dollars at a second-hand vinyl shop. There I was, aimless, bereft of joy, alone and poor, when along came Dino. Nelson Riddle never sounded so cool...

If I could find a job singing this stuff regularly, I reckon I'd take it.

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