ALAN CARLTON
PO BOX 1078
GPO HOBART
7001
24/2/93
Dear Bev
Saturday 5/12/92
At the swimming pool the lanes are crowded with swimmers
from Aussi Masters. The shallow end is
teeming with swimmers. They have stopped
to talk. I swim anti-socially and don't
stop to chat. After about an hour the
lanes start to clear and swimming becomes more pleasurable. Once Lorna gets out I know that it's about
time I got out. I follow her. Doug Job is standing in his green and yellow
tracksuit watching. He's come along to
spectate. I ask him why he's not
swimming and he says that he had an operation to remove a cataract, then he
caught the flu and then he had a head-on collision on his bike and broke
several bones. He tells me that from now
on he is going to act his age of 73 not 37.
He looks at me. Perhaps I should
act like some-one who is 36 not 63.
Back home I have a shower.
It's tempting to stay and turn the temperature up. To stay where I am. We have to buy a Christmas tree. I prefer a traditional pine tree. They are very hard to buy. For some reason they are becoming
unfashionable. Perhaps people are
re-using small green plastic trees.
Perhaps they are not decorating trees.
After ringing a few greengrocers I feel that we may be able to get one
down at the Salamanca market.
At the market the place is humming. The usual collection of art, craft and
rubbish. Tourists with video cameras,
locals buying Christmas presents and hippies in a time warp. We walk quickly through the throng. I've no interest in browsing and bargain
hunting. On and on through the crowd and
eventually I see a truck apologetically parked on the periphery. It doesn't know if it is in the right
place. There aren't many trees
left. The man selling the trees states
that they range in price from six dollars to ten dollars. He starts hauling them off the truck,
displaying them and then throwing them back.
We finally choose one that was standing in front of us from the
beginning. He looks at the tree and he
states emphatically that it is an eight dollar tree.
I juggle the tree and we take off. It smells like pine flavored
air-freshener. A lady in jeans grabs my
arm shyly. I dread what is about to
come. She looks like a greenie and I
feel she is going to accuse me of an environmental sin. She asks me where I bought the tree as she
also wants one. Thank goodness for
that. Quickly let's hurry home and avoid
the stares.
The girls greet the car as we arrive home. They peer and probe at the tree and want to
know when they can decorate it. The
decorations are waiting patiently in the lounge room. I place some dirt in a bucket and try to ram
the tree down as far as possible. I then
pack room dirt around the tree and stand back hoping the tree will not topple
and fall. It stays upright. The girls are let loose on the tree. They ask how they must decorate it.
We decide to go down town to a book shop. We see that the main highway has been cleared
of traffic. People are standing by the
side of the road waiting. The people are
peering up the empty road. Nothing is
coming. We decide to park the car and
wait for something. As we park the car a
noise approaches us from up the highway and we can see some police cars, with
headlights blazing, driving slowly down the highway. Behind the police cars we can see some
motor-bikes. Within minutes the road is
a continuous stream of motor-bikes. In
either direction there is no end to the stream of bikes.
On the backs of some of the bikes are fluffy toys. Some of the bikers wave or hoot. I try and walk away but there is no
escape. There is no-where to go and
still they come. Each bike is surrounded
by its inviolate space and still they come.
We stand stunned and wait for the last biker but he doesn't come. Eventually they start to peter out and we hop
into the car. Jolene says that there
were exactly 861 bikes. She says that
when she started to count she guessed that about 60 had gone past so she
started to count at 60.
During the following week, everytime I mention how I didn't
realise how many Wallies there were in Hobart, I was blasted. Everybody had a brother, father or friend in
the "toy run" and it was all for a good cause (toys for children at
Christmas). I still think they were a bunch
of Wallies and next year I hope to make a banner and hang it over one of the
bridges that they travel under. It will
say "Bikers are queer homosexual woosies."
Sunday 6/12/92
All I know is that they can't wear shorts. Shorts look terrible. Jolene puts on a dress that looks too
small. She finally comes out to the car
in her latest attempt at getting dressed.
A pair of pants and a shirt which is not tucked in. It is too late to change so we leave. We arrive at the hall and there is a line of
young children holding violins. At the
head of the line is the violin teacher.
He picks up the proffered violin and plays a few notes. He then instantly and automatically decides
how to put the violin into tune. He
tightens and loosens a few screws and then plays a few more notes. Ahh that sounds much better and he picks up
the next violin.
The violin teacher is slightly flustered and very
happy.
All of his students are in the hall for an end of year
concert. His wife is a piano teacher and
all of her students are also here. I
look around the hall for somebody that I know.
Nobody. I look down the list of
performers for a familiar name.
Nobody. Most of the students are
females. A very delicate, woosie,
feminine female in her best Sunday dress.
The concert starts with a beginning student. She plays for about half a minute and then
bows. There is a lot of applause. There are 42 acts but most people are only
interested in their particular one. As
the performers get up their relatives and friends sit silently and
tensely. The performers meanwhile
concentrate completely and solely on what they are doing. At the finish of each act the relevant
parents relax and sigh. The performers
hurry off as quickly as possible while the parents clap enthusiastically.
Most of the students are mediocre. They choose pieces which they haven't quiet
mastered and they stumble through.
Occasionally a student stops and completely loses his way or a student
gets up and plays the piece flawlessly.
Every student is pregnant with possibilities. In most cases the way the student approaches
the stage gives the game away.
Melissa plays well.
Concentrating intently and I am relieved when she finishes the
piece. I don't notice any mistakes. Stacey says the two little boys sitting in
front didn't clap Melissa. She mentions
this many times and waits for us to hand out retribution. Melissa says that everybody was looking at her.
Saturday 12/12/92
Once again the girls have to get dressed up. Jolene even wears a dress. The Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra is holding a
Christmas concert in association with the choir from the girl's high
school. It's a sell-out and the theatre
is full of families. Lots of
children. The orchestra is tuning up
when we arrive. The musicians are
wearing Christmas hats. A few have
Christmas trees on their heads. One has
an enormous cracker perilously perched on his head. The violinist have tinsel on their bows. When the announcer comes on stage he says
that as you can see it is going to be a very serious concert. The orchestra is loose and chirping away but
the choir is very serious for it is their big night.
At the back of the stage is the school choir. Impeccably dressed and not moving. There is no idle chat amongst the choir. The music starts and some of the children
stop running around. At the interval
Father Christmas enters. He is rapidly mobbed
by children and their attached parents.
He patiently speaks to them individually. Stacey is incredibly excited. Stacey feels sorry for one of her
friends. This friend doesn't have a
Father Christmas. All she has is her
parents to buy her presents.
We have to stand up to sing a carol. The two little boys to my left start running
up in down in front of us. They bump
into Stacey and they start laughing as they run and bump into us again. By the
end of the night the lady with the four small kids to my left is looking
frustrated. Stacey said later in the car
that "I just ignored the little babies."
The concert moved alone very rapidly. The orchestra played three gallops (by
Kabalevsky, Rimsky-Korsakov and Khachaturian).
They also played a few tunes from the Nutcracker Suite. The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy was the
most serious piece for the evening. No
tacky sentimental speeches or songs.
Monday 14/12/92
Lorna: When Melissa goes up to get her badge we'll all yell
out yehhh
Melissa: Oh don't. You’ll embarrass me as well as yourself.
Lorna: Yehhh. I won't
be embarrassed. Yehhh.
Melissa: I can assure you that you will embarrass
yourself. Don't do it.
We arrive at the hall in the casino and find a seat near the
front. Melissa and Jolene rapidly head
off looking for friends. All the
students are in school uniform and half of them are walking around searching
for a friend or trying to find out where they are meant to sit. Melissa returns to sit with us and Jolene
sits with the rest of the concert band.
On the stage are ten leather chairs expectantly facing the
audience. To the left of the stage is a
table covered with piles of books and several trophies.
Suddenly the room is quiet and the show begins. The orchestra plays a few tunes and then the
prize giving begins. Very slick and
professional. No clapping until the end
of a group. Each student is handed
without delay her book and is rapidly replaced by another student. It is a girls high school and after about
half hour Stacey says “I haven't seen any boys yet."
Who is that lady giving out the books? Nobody knows.
She is introduced to give the main speech of the evening. Her fame is that she umpired the final of the
women's hockey in Barcelona. She tries
to inspire the girls to "go for the gap."
This year's prefects line up on the stage. Next year's prefects line up beside the
stage. Next year's prefects are
introduced and walk onto the stage and stand in front of an outgoing
prefect. Melissa stumbles as she steps
onto the stage. The new prefects are
handed their badges from the old prefects.
Melissa returns to her seat and talks about how embarrassing it was when
she nearly fell. The concert band plays
several songs including "Friends for Life" and several carols. They are accompanied by all of the school
choirs. Jolene plays the trombone.
I am sorry that I have been late in sending this
letter. A lot has happened since
December but I can't write about that until I send this letter on its way.
Regards Alan
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