All The Small Things

Melbourne is such an interesting place. It has the effect of making me realise what I've simultaenously given up and gained by choosing my life in Sassville.

I've given up being in a space where people talk about art and poetry and politics and social issues during normal discourse.

I've given up access to galleries, and therefore opportunities to see things like the Pissarro exhibition currently on at the National Gallery (which was awesome by the way, and if you have access to it, go see it NOW!!!)

I've given up being able to decide what I feel like for lunch and find it within 10 minutes walk. I've given up being able to go for coffee and cake at 11pm, in a proper coffee shop. I've given up seeing performing artists doing amazing things in public spaces.

But at the same time, I've gained some amazing things too. I've got enough quiet time in my life to know what my mind is. I can't think in the city. I've gained the views from my windows, not of grey concrete, or sardine like neighbours, or dirty littered creeks, but of beautiful soaring mountains, verdent green paddocks and blue lake.

I've gained the freedom of cheaper housing, crowdless streets, easy parking, friendly happy locals, and a strong and cohesive community.

On the balance, I'm very happy with my decision to live where I do, but there is a part of me that knows that some parts of me would soar in the city. I love the culture and knowledge and intelligent conversation that is available there.

And, lets face it, some of the friends I love most in my life are in Melbourne. Almost, Miss E., and my most novel friend. But moving there wouldn't guarantee that we would see each other any more than we do, and I kind of like that we can visit one another.

My friend Almost took me to Melbourne in his beautiful little car, when we arrived we went to a funky little shop in Hawthorn and had a steak dinner which was devine, then we headed to his place to get gussied up for the concert.

We made it to the Arts Centre in plenty of time, picked up our tickets and took our seats. We went to see Bic Runga, and she was amazing. The incredibly talented Neil Finn was supporting, and the band was quite extensive. Backup singers, the whole deal. But I have to say my favourite bits were when the band took off and she accompanied herself on guitar.

The concert raised the issue of what is acceptable behaviour in a public space. Photographs were being taken (which was not allowed, and everyone knew it) but as they were being taken, during one of the most popular songs, the ushers were charging like elephants up and down the aisles, shining their torches on the culprits. Now I ask you, what is the story with that? I found it disgusting that they allowed cameras in, if you weren't allowed to use them, but the ushers were nearly as irritating.

Then the girls that were sitting beside us. Oh. My. God. They arrived late, after Bic had started singing. They pushed past us, then fiddled round with their mobile phone screen lighting up their tickets as they tried to figure out which row they should be sitting on and in which seats.

Sit The HELL DOWN!!!!!!! I was thinking, and eventually they did. About two songs before the intermission. When they left, again pushing past us. One of them hit me quite hard with her bag on her way back in after intermission, kept walking, finished her loud conversation with her friend, then turned back to me and said sorry. Now, I'm sorry, but if you hit someone, you apologise. You don't keep walking and chatting and then add it as a postscript.

To add insult to injury, the four of them were giggling and chatting away, long after the lights had gone down, the band were back on, and singing had started. They were making fun of one of the band members hair. Almost and I were both disgusted by their behaviour, adn Almost leaned across me and told them very politely that if they didn't be quiet he'd have them removed.

They were much better behaved after that.

I'm a bit tired actually, so I might leave the rest of this for tomorrow.

Hugs,

Sass.