They are putting a new road through a tunnel, right under Refinery Terrace. What with the bicycle path, relocated lamp posts, and native ecosystem reboot that is all part of Councillor Elect Dodgy Dave’s plan for a newer, brighter Altona West, Madge fears, as she blearily remarked to me the other day, whilst putting out the empties ( a box of stubbies and three sailors) that Refinery Terrace will never be the same again. Not that it ever was, but your memory can play tricks on you after a night spent slurping The Strangled Ferret’s house gluhwein in the company of unsuspecting merchant matelots.
Fortunately, these types of plan are never quite realised, as to do so would deprive Dodgy Dave of an election promise that might otherwise work for him again and again. So it is reasonable to expect that things will be much the same as before, only different.
Which brings me to the Jam Session, at much of which I was not. The afternoon was dominated, I was told, by singers. Dominated! Were they all dressed in skin tight black leather, metal stilettos and dark glasses of the uber kewl variety., and waving whips? Judging by the Captain’s enthusiasm, quite possibly.
When I eventually fronted, there was something closely approximating jazz going on, a tight rhythm section led by Doug Kuhn, Lisette tickling the ivories, Angela Strickland singing, a general air of bonhomie and quite possibly jazz cigarettes being passed around on the pavement outside.
So I spent an entertaining hour or two listening to some fine music, sipping on a Guinness and catching up on the gossip with the Divine Miss Smith, several of whose observations I am sworn not to repeat.
Ya wouldn’t be dead for quids
Sunday Arvo Jam Session, The Leinster Arms, Gold Street, Collingwood this Sunday, 4.00 until Gentleman John Curtis calls stumps, the Captain being up in Castlemaine this week,