Please adjust the fader so I can appreciate the rear speakers in the back seat of this 1970s oatmeal Jaguar. Oh yeah. Nothing like a mewling Kleenex number on a warm sunny drive to make me feel like I’m heading to Zurich via Acapulco when I’m actually heading to Bendigo. De Campo rides shotgun in silver denim Capri’s and a classy western shirt. Contessa, glam and summery in a plush black dress she bought at a big sale Gertrude Street is a sensible driver never breaking the speed limit although how is she to know when her speedo is broken? I flip through a New Yorker oddly cultivating a desire to see the new George Clooney movie. Night falls. We pass where we need to turn and ask for directions at a BP station. The woman we flag down throws her map at us.
We get to the party and the hosts have set up some plush lodging for De Campo and I in their garage. Profusely flattered. Classic people eating drinking and being merry. Pleasant spots to hangout like at wrought-iron tables under trees or under their large pergola near a fire. A lot of people sit at a large table under the rear veranda near the sidetable where a selection of salads are sitting. The BBQ is hot and sizzling some sausages. Some people like Mia and the boyfriend of a sterling academic have just put steaks on. After making De Campo dinner, chat to G Roy about shiraz cleanskins and the plight of today’s prose stylist.
Gather inside the studio for speeches, music and dancing. The wife component of the most sensible couple of rock lays down some sweet-lovin' harmonica. The birthday girl is celebrated by two speechgivers in matching dresses who give rivetingly witty speeches that leave the entire party dazzled. One of the girls pitches a reality show starring FJG that is so vividly executed that she begins casting the feature film and taking suggestions from the audience. She needs an actress who is tough and firm and assertive before going onto mention a few other characteristics not representative of Cybil Shepherd yet it was at that moment I meekly suggested Miss Shepherd's name only to be reprimanded by a woman next to me who said that that wasn’t the best example I could have used and rather than say it was a total joke I said I really needed to find a toilet and when I came back to the party everyone was waving their arms to a ridiculous, mesmerising R&B song like it was some Christian revival.
Bendigo’s Surrender Monkeys dropped an ace set, followed by the extremely excellent folk rock of Sydney’s legendary Lighthouse Keepers. Inventive tambourine playing is seen and heard. The Cannanes won’t be playing though, their bassist broke his wrist lunging for a Shiraz. Instead there’s a blinding free-for-all jam to partake in. This lasts for several hours and brings much pleasure to the neighbours living adjacently.
Sunday
11am-12pm: Discuss panic and anxiety and type of medications useful in combating them. Eat sausage listening to Morrissey
12-1pm: Discuss the difference between a swallow and a sparrow — outcome at odds with my belief system. Disappointed with the sparrow, listen to Hansalf Trio.
1-2.30pm: A family of magpies (the same ones who used O Neil’s hair for their nest) and a bluetongue lizard are spotted with sausages in their mouths, listening to The Humpty Dance
2.30pm: Suzie returns to the possibility of Robert Mitchum playing FJG in the feature film version of the reality show.
1.40am: Woke up with a terrible panic proceeded to toss and turn for the remainder of the morning, then I had a dream that was more like an accusation into a type of sock that I stopped wearing five years ago.
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