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Forgive me my laziness but I've copied the following from my Facebook update last night. I think it's worth retelling here...
A quick story my brother-in-law recently related to me that perhaps perfectly describes this city of Sydney.
My sister and her partner went to Town Hall to see their son perform in a prestigious choir. The recital went off beautifully and everyone had come from far and wide decked out in their finest satins and penguin suits. Praises were heaped on the young singers and reverent tones were used in the hallowed chambers of this most august venue.
After the last soothing voices had trailed off, the appreciative crowd started slowly moving out onto the steps of George Street with self-conscious reserve and studied dignity, milling and still talking excitedly about what the future holds for their talented progeny at the top of the steps.
But in short order, an arguing couple at the base of the steps started getting the better of the frockery and finery brigade. Their grating, drunken scream and rising volume soon drowned out the more tempered and virtuous dialogues on any Missa Solemnis or Mass #2 in E Minor. And when her McWilliams Sherry-fueled haranguing and when his scathing, vituperative outbursts failed to get through to each other, he stood right there on the footpath in the very beating heart of my beloved Sydney and said, "Oh yeah? Well take THIS, you fucking moll! " Whereby he undid the bit of rope holding his worn and soiled trousers up, allowing them to fall to his unwashed ankles and let rip a steaming and (from what I was told) altogether noisy and fat shit right there on the path! In front of her. In front of the the proud parents and guardians. In front of the children with the voices of angels. In front of the shoppers at Woolies across the road. Essentially, in front of a possible crowd of thousands on what may arguably be the busiest intersection on the east coast of Australia.
This, then, is a near-perfect portrait of the city that has offered me and millions of others succour and desperation by equal measures throughout most of my life.
My sister and her partner went to Town Hall to see their son perform in a prestigious choir. The recital went off beautifully and everyone had come from far and wide decked out in their finest satins and penguin suits. Praises were heaped on the young singers and reverent tones were used in the hallowed chambers of this most august venue.
After the last soothing voices had trailed off, the appreciative crowd started slowly moving out onto the steps of George Street with self-conscious reserve and studied dignity, milling and still talking excitedly about what the future holds for their talented progeny at the top of the steps.
But in short order, an arguing couple at the base of the steps started getting the better of the frockery and finery brigade. Their grating, drunken scream and rising volume soon drowned out the more tempered and virtuous dialogues on any Missa Solemnis or Mass #2 in E Minor. And when her McWilliams Sherry-fueled haranguing and when his scathing, vituperative outbursts failed to get through to each other, he stood right there on the footpath in the very beating heart of my beloved Sydney and said, "Oh yeah? Well take THIS, you fucking moll! " Whereby he undid the bit of rope holding his worn and soiled trousers up, allowing them to fall to his unwashed ankles and let rip a steaming and (from what I was told) altogether noisy and fat shit right there on the path! In front of her. In front of the the proud parents and guardians. In front of the children with the voices of angels. In front of the shoppers at Woolies across the road. Essentially, in front of a possible crowd of thousands on what may arguably be the busiest intersection on the east coast of Australia.
This, then, is a near-perfect portrait of the city that has offered me and millions of others succour and desperation by equal measures throughout most of my life.
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