Culture Vulture

I’ve out twice this week on school nights, on Tuesday and last night, Thursday.

On Tuesday, after work, L and I went to the taping of episode five of Top Gear Australia. We met outside Liverpool railway station and after a few trips around the town centre we figure out which road we needed to take to get to Bankstown Aerodrome. The expression of interest email and subsequent invite email had stated the filming would take approximately two to two and half hours, and to wear shoes that had a closed in toe and were comfortable for that amount of time standing on a concrete floor. I dressed suitable, as did L.

After two hours of hanging around and never quite making it to the front of the crowd to see what was happening, we planted ourselves near a Kombi with an armchair in the back. There we made some new mates. Three guys who also had failed to see anything and decided that they had to get to the Kombi soon. We chatted, laughed, took the micky and generally played silly buggers. L got so hungry she resorted to having a Chupa Chups for tea. At about hour three, L was making noise to go home, I convinced her that the presenters couldn’t fluff their lines much more and it would soon be over. I was sort of right.

The hanging around at the back paid off. On the 8th June I’ll be on telly. I managed to get myself in the front row while they filmed a segment with a Kombi and a chalkboard. I’m sure I’ll look like a complete noggin’ and cringe when I see myself, but I do believe it was the late great Andy Warhol that said, ‘In the future, everyone will have 15 minutes of fame.’ I think I notched up my first 3.

Last night, I went to the ballet at the Sydney Opera House, the total polar opposite of standing in a hanger in the middle of Bankstown. D, a friend from work had been let down by her usual companions and had asked me if I would like to see, Nutcraker.

It’s been a while since I saw a ballet. Cyrano de Bergerac was the last time I went, that was in the 90s and in London. I jumped at the chance to go again, great music, wonderful dancing and lush costumes. What more could a girl ask for on a Thursday night?

Champagne, that’s what.

There ended up being three of us. D, J and me. Turned out J, being a wholesome Yorkshire lass liked a drink, we drank a bottle in the thirty minutes before the show then another in the interval.

It didn’t ruin the performance. We got everything we expected and more. We got a show. The music by Tchaikovsky, played by Australian Ballet Orchestra was sublime, the dancing was enough to make you weep and the costumes ranged from dowdy 40’s housewife dresses to full on tulle and silk tutus. It was sheer heaven.

The evening was rounded off with crawling around on the floor of the ladies looking for a button and then another glass of bubbles and chatting, before I caught the train home and the two city dwellers, jumped in a cab.