The Carringbush Chroinicles: Tales from the Gold Street Gossip Shop

One of the quieter sessions – possibly a result of everyone who was not there nursing a post Grand Final hangover, possibly because it was as cold as a mother– in-law’s kiss, what with it being Spring in Melbourne. Whatever. Madge from Altona was not there, as she had sensibly retired to the inner recesses of her Refinery terrace condo with two bottles of Red Ned, three sailors and a packet of Winnie Blues. Hortense could have been there. Or so she would ruefully muse, in the absence, yet again of Rotten Ronnie, who has, it would seem, been spending a lot of time playing hot licks at Mme Trixie La Belle’s Academie de Danse, Altona Campus. On his saxophone, if you were wondering…

But I digress. Probably just as well, because the music emanating from the Gold Street Sheltered Workshop was of an up and down variety: Kay as chanteuse solitaire, working overtime, Ben playing elegant jazz riffs, Adam, Brian and Anton playing some lively bass, and Nick having an exploratory hit to great effect on drums: shaded, it must be said, by Tom on A Night in Tunisia. An afternoon occasionally enlivened by a thrilling competition between drummer and guitarist – smack the ride hard enough and it might just drown out the guitar. Or vice versa. Apparently it is a competition these days, but they do let the rest of us play music at the same time. How kind.
TW

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