Along Dudley on the return a short queue of Indians for a Christmas special of some kind at Festival Hall, the little flags showed. What might that be about late Saturday afternoon, one week out?... Young Chinese making up the hill revealed the mystery. Songs would be sung here shortly, sweet tunes. In fact, precisely the business of the hall decades past—songs, and doubling for wrestling & boxing. The Beatles & Stones had played there, among numerous others over the years. Had to be a church thing, right? Yup, the lady confirmed. And which might that be?… Hill Song… Ah, Hill Song. That was the one that boasted the PM Scomo among its members. On that matter the lady was none too sure. She would be taking a brightly smiling, expectant face in there herself. Further down the path American apple pie accents had joined. Like for the rockin-rollers of the past, a singalong was on the cards behind those walls shortly, if a fellow hung about he may have heard from the pavement, despite the hurtling traffic. (The roadway on Dudley was death for cyclists.) In Yarraville the bookshop was checked again, this time the volume found soon enough. There it sat face-up among the other candy-colours. Too right—Bonaparte & Corsica, Berger & the Côte d'Azur mentioned in the first 230 word paragraph of the prize-winner’s latest release. A few years before in another novel by the same, there had been a particular perfume, a native tree and a couple of other signposts in the treasure trove opening. Out on the fake grass that covered that end of Ballarat Street by the cinema & bookshop, a live ensemble was giving more Christian cheer, Chuck Berry number among the rest. The old rocker’s only item of the genre, the C&W gal behind the mike revealed. Memorably, before appearances, the Chuckster had always been cash up front into the guitar case, Sir, if you don’t mind. Other big names got ripped off by promoters, the boxers & the rest. Not the ol’ Daddy Oh.
Melbourne, Dec21
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