![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Aug. 26th, 2012 10:01 pmI've been offline for a day and a half, having my Terribly Marvellous Adventure. Now that I'm not tempting fate, I can tell you about it. There will be pictures when I've uploaded them. There will not, alas, be music: for that you must wait.
Some little while ago, Laura Goodin was my blog guest, talking about how her short story (the one wot I edited, in Masques) about dancing mice and giants was becoming an opera. The Pozible fundraiser got just enough money to put on a performance (not a full one - just singers and tech and a few actors and conductor) in front of a critical audience, with comments and wine and general bonhomie. It's going to be a very nice opera. Not 'nice' in a sweetness and light sense, for a group of us huddled round a heater afterwards, shivering with emotion, but 'nice' in a 'watch for it or you'll miss something special' sense.
Although the journey to Wollongong was all about the opera, it was in itself an adventure. The stomach virus meant I nearly didn't get there at all. In the end, I caught a taxi to the train station rather than two busses, and I survived on travel sickness pills. Not only did I make it there, but I made it in better state than I had left*.
I caught the train the Moss Vale and changed to catch the bus to Wollongong. On the train, it was all farm people, taking a few days to do this or that. My most satisfying discovery (which I keep telling people, so a few of you might want to blink around now and miss reading the rest of the paragraph) is that 'sweet oath' is still a stronger form of 'yes.' I thought it was defunct. In fact, I was told quite recently that 'blood oath and 'f# oath' had replaced it. I have heard it used, however, so it's real.
The bus leg was amazing. Sitting in the seat in front were an elderly couple going to their grandson's 21st at Albion Park** - they'd been told to come as witches, so they were accoutred with a broomstick. The woman is a foodie and we talked about the CWA and showground cakes and how many hundreds of totally wonderful slices her friends made as part of community work. The bus driver joined in and the talk turned to sport. Then we hit Macquarie Pass.
Macquarie Pass is exquisitely beautiful. Not only that, but the bus driver on today's return journey*** pointed out that in the government-controlled area, there is a house that might be rentable for a week by enterprising writers with cars. I thought that dropping hints here would be a start...I am willing to cook historical food if someone does the transport thing. The house is isolated and it's surrounded by cliffs and gullies and temperate rainforest.****
Laura picked me up and Wollongong (I always want to say Wollongong the Brave, but refrained kindly when I was actually there). We changed, we met the cast and had an early dinner, then we all walked across from the pub to the theatre. The singers and Houston (Houston Dunleavy, the composer) and I got into mischief with photos, but everyone else was wonderfully good. I met Toby (one of the actors) and Toby's Laura and we had a long talk about books, for we have distinctly shared interests. Toby's Laura had a spec fic novel with her for safety, and she managed to get 2/3 of the cast talking about The Hunger Games.
Eventually they all went backstage to do what had to be done, and I mingled with the Good and Great, for Laura determined that I was so for that half hour. I met an ex-ballet dancer retired movement professor and her hydrotherapy students and they were so interesting I didn't even remember that there was wine. I'd helped pout the nibbles out, so I shouldn't've forgotten them, but an interesting conversation is an interesting conversation and cannot be ignored.
The performance was fascinating. Hearing the transformation from short story to production, hearing the hero-mouse as soprano and the Crooked Mouse as mezzo gave it new dimensions. It wasn't a full staging, which meant that some of the audience questions afterwards would have been answered with visible choreography. It was especially cool to see an intelligent and thoughtful audience reacting to an opera without the help of a libretto or the understanding that one tends to have with the standards.
When it was all over, we adjourned to Laura's (and Houston's, and Margaret-who-did-tech for this is a wondrously talented family). Most of the actors had to leave so Toby and Toby's Laura represented them. This meant I got to talk to the singers. It was great! Eve and I swapped PhD tales and talked about models for Arts funding. We all overate. We drank wine, mulled wine, and some of the liqueurs that I had shepherded down at great risk of spillage***** and it was a bit of a late night.
You need pictures and I need an early night. I shall try to upload them now and maybe post one or two, and then I shall sleep and let tomorrow be a wasn't-I-supposed-to-write-3000-words-this-weekend day. I wrote 1000 words, for the record. The bus was the best thing out, and the train, for I was too tired to work anyhow, and all I had to do was sit and fall in love with a region. Same with the opera - I just got to sit. And all the rest of it had old friends and new friends and strange discoveries and much talking, which are things that work very much like pain relievers for me. Tonight I'm feeling it, but it was such a perfect weekend that it's worth the penalty.
Let me get out my camera.
*I'm paying for it now, but oh, what a way to go!
** Chaz, I have a picture of Albion Park for you, for it struck me that right now you need to know what a non-Albion non-park Albion Park looks like.
***Who was totally cool, for he acted like a tour guide, except, being a local, he knew stuff. Where famous actress lives, what land had been bought for buildings and the buildings are currently making way for cows for it is a floodplain, why all the bikies get pies at the piemaker in Robertson but the locals buy imported pies (from Moss Vale, I think), where Bega cheese is sold as home brand cheese, where I needed to watch for good shots and so much more.
****I will see if I can find a tempting picture of the Pass, though I was experimenting with the movie function of my camera and might be a failure on the persuasion of souls, for movies I know not how to web, and besides, these are not very good. Lots of driving on mountain roads.
*****"I thought you were carrying a baby!" one of the other bus passengers greeted me. "Are you Gillian Polack?" asked the bus driver.
Some little while ago, Laura Goodin was my blog guest, talking about how her short story (the one wot I edited, in Masques) about dancing mice and giants was becoming an opera. The Pozible fundraiser got just enough money to put on a performance (not a full one - just singers and tech and a few actors and conductor) in front of a critical audience, with comments and wine and general bonhomie. It's going to be a very nice opera. Not 'nice' in a sweetness and light sense, for a group of us huddled round a heater afterwards, shivering with emotion, but 'nice' in a 'watch for it or you'll miss something special' sense.
Although the journey to Wollongong was all about the opera, it was in itself an adventure. The stomach virus meant I nearly didn't get there at all. In the end, I caught a taxi to the train station rather than two busses, and I survived on travel sickness pills. Not only did I make it there, but I made it in better state than I had left*.
I caught the train the Moss Vale and changed to catch the bus to Wollongong. On the train, it was all farm people, taking a few days to do this or that. My most satisfying discovery (which I keep telling people, so a few of you might want to blink around now and miss reading the rest of the paragraph) is that 'sweet oath' is still a stronger form of 'yes.' I thought it was defunct. In fact, I was told quite recently that 'blood oath and 'f# oath' had replaced it. I have heard it used, however, so it's real.
The bus leg was amazing. Sitting in the seat in front were an elderly couple going to their grandson's 21st at Albion Park** - they'd been told to come as witches, so they were accoutred with a broomstick. The woman is a foodie and we talked about the CWA and showground cakes and how many hundreds of totally wonderful slices her friends made as part of community work. The bus driver joined in and the talk turned to sport. Then we hit Macquarie Pass.
Macquarie Pass is exquisitely beautiful. Not only that, but the bus driver on today's return journey*** pointed out that in the government-controlled area, there is a house that might be rentable for a week by enterprising writers with cars. I thought that dropping hints here would be a start...I am willing to cook historical food if someone does the transport thing. The house is isolated and it's surrounded by cliffs and gullies and temperate rainforest.****
Laura picked me up and Wollongong (I always want to say Wollongong the Brave, but refrained kindly when I was actually there). We changed, we met the cast and had an early dinner, then we all walked across from the pub to the theatre. The singers and Houston (Houston Dunleavy, the composer) and I got into mischief with photos, but everyone else was wonderfully good. I met Toby (one of the actors) and Toby's Laura and we had a long talk about books, for we have distinctly shared interests. Toby's Laura had a spec fic novel with her for safety, and she managed to get 2/3 of the cast talking about The Hunger Games.
Eventually they all went backstage to do what had to be done, and I mingled with the Good and Great, for Laura determined that I was so for that half hour. I met an ex-ballet dancer retired movement professor and her hydrotherapy students and they were so interesting I didn't even remember that there was wine. I'd helped pout the nibbles out, so I shouldn't've forgotten them, but an interesting conversation is an interesting conversation and cannot be ignored.
The performance was fascinating. Hearing the transformation from short story to production, hearing the hero-mouse as soprano and the Crooked Mouse as mezzo gave it new dimensions. It wasn't a full staging, which meant that some of the audience questions afterwards would have been answered with visible choreography. It was especially cool to see an intelligent and thoughtful audience reacting to an opera without the help of a libretto or the understanding that one tends to have with the standards.
When it was all over, we adjourned to Laura's (and Houston's, and Margaret-who-did-tech for this is a wondrously talented family). Most of the actors had to leave so Toby and Toby's Laura represented them. This meant I got to talk to the singers. It was great! Eve and I swapped PhD tales and talked about models for Arts funding. We all overate. We drank wine, mulled wine, and some of the liqueurs that I had shepherded down at great risk of spillage***** and it was a bit of a late night.
You need pictures and I need an early night. I shall try to upload them now and maybe post one or two, and then I shall sleep and let tomorrow be a wasn't-I-supposed-to-write-3000-words-this-weekend day. I wrote 1000 words, for the record. The bus was the best thing out, and the train, for I was too tired to work anyhow, and all I had to do was sit and fall in love with a region. Same with the opera - I just got to sit. And all the rest of it had old friends and new friends and strange discoveries and much talking, which are things that work very much like pain relievers for me. Tonight I'm feeling it, but it was such a perfect weekend that it's worth the penalty.
Let me get out my camera.
*I'm paying for it now, but oh, what a way to go!
** Chaz, I have a picture of Albion Park for you, for it struck me that right now you need to know what a non-Albion non-park Albion Park looks like.
***Who was totally cool, for he acted like a tour guide, except, being a local, he knew stuff. Where famous actress lives, what land had been bought for buildings and the buildings are currently making way for cows for it is a floodplain, why all the bikies get pies at the piemaker in Robertson but the locals buy imported pies (from Moss Vale, I think), where Bega cheese is sold as home brand cheese, where I needed to watch for good shots and so much more.
****I will see if I can find a tempting picture of the Pass, though I was experimenting with the movie function of my camera and might be a failure on the persuasion of souls, for movies I know not how to web, and besides, these are not very good. Lots of driving on mountain roads.
*****"I thought you were carrying a baby!" one of the other bus passengers greeted me. "Are you Gillian Polack?" asked the bus driver.