20 July
Spend day in bed except for quick shopping excursion and a
cameo appearance at the major birthday celebration of a friend. A number of work colleagues are present and I
stupidly indicate I’ll be at work on the Monday.
21 July
Spend day in bed in an attempt to be fit for a return to work.
22 July
Go to work. and soon realise I've made a mistake. Check
emails. Sign off on end of financial
year work assessment after which my Manager sent me home. Spend afternoon asleep at home in bed.
23 July
I become doubly sick as I awake to the news of the birth of
His Royal Highness Prince Name TBC, the future King of England and, should we
fail again to understand the concept of a republic, Head of State for Australia.
My newly found sense of nausea comes not from this reminder that my supposedly egalitarian
country, the home of multiculturalism, mateship and the concept of a “fair go”
for all, is prepared to put up with a largely ignorant attachment to this last
bastion of old world wealth and privilege.
Rather it comes from the sycophantic nature
of Australia’s TV coverage of the event.
Realistically, the birth should be covered here in much the same way as
that conveyed by the Royal Family in their easel message at Buckingham
Palace. (That is, that a healthy baby of
x weight has been born at time y, the mother is fine, a name has not yet been
revealed and a nation is happy.) But I’m bombarded with all kinds of the most
useless speculative reporting conceivable and I’m rooted to the coverage much like
a horrified onlooker at a disaster site as the media ponders weighty matters
such as; Was Prince William present at the birth? Did he cut the cord? Will he be spending the night at the hospital?
Has he told his father, Prince Harry, Catherine's parents, Pippa and The
Queen? Who would have been told first? Will
the Queen see the baby before going on holidays on Friday? Will anyone be
visiting today? Or tomorrow? Is there an entrance where visitors can
arrive without being seen? What’s it
like to give birth in the hospital? (I
figure lying on a bed just like in any hospital.) What names will be chosen? What names won’t be chosen? Have they been
chosen already? When will the names be announced? Does Prince William need to
run the names past the Queen first? Will the announcement of the chosen names
be delayed if the Queen goes on holiday without seeing the baby? Can the chosen
name be changed upon the Prince’s ascension to the throne? Who’ll be the
Godparents? Can they possibly be Harry
and Pippa? What’s the baby’s astrological star sign? What are that sign’s characteristics? How
long will the baby stay at the hospital?
Where will it spend its first night after leaving the hospital? Will
it go to Buckleberry? Will it go to the
Queen’s summer holiday estate? Where will the baby live pending William’s
completion of his military placement - Buckleberry,
the Queen’s summer holiday estate or some other place? Will William and Catherine
be hands on parents? Will they employ a Nanny?
I wait in vain for anyone to acknowledge that the new Prince will be a
future Australian Head Of State.
I escape and see my doctor again. This time he diagnoses bronchitis and orders
me to stay home for the remainder of the week.
Great! I’d hate to miss out on
more Royal Baby news as it doesn’t happen.
Go home and drift in and out of sleep.
24 July
Drift in an out of sleep all day. Prince Name TBC leaves hospital. At least my nausea
starts to recede.
25 July
Prince Name TBC becomes Prince George. Nausea disappears and daytime TV reverts to
its usual numbing state. My sleep quotient
increases…..
26 July
……and increases.
27 July
Leave house for shopping and a family birthday
celebration. Otherwise stay in bed.
28 July
Stay in bed all day.
Watch the Bulldogs defeat West Coast on TV and begin to see light at the
end of our tunnel. Reasonably sure of a
return to work tomorrow. "M", who's been magnificent during this time, inspects my body and finds no bed sores.
With such an incredibly interesting and varied lifestyle, it
should come as no surprise that I listened to hardly any music. The only albums I get through, inevitably over
time between bouts of sleep are:
(# 532) The Lurid
Yellow Mist featuring Dave Graney And Clare Moore - We Wuz Curious (2008)
This was Graney’s first album credited to a band since the
demise of the Dave Graney Show (and prior to that his albums with the Coral
Snakes and the White Buffaloes). This is
not that surprising as this album is very much in the same vein as those bands
and their deft combination of rock and lounge music with hints of jazz and a
dose of humour. The opening trio of You
Had To Be Drunk, I come From The Clouds and Let’s Kill God Again is as memorable
as anything found on the Coral Snakes albums and the rest of the album is
extremely consistent.
(# 533) The Huxton
Creepers – 12 Days To Paris (2011 extended reissue of 1986 album)
The Huxton Creepers were a gritty Melbourne rock band, much
beloved on the local pub circuit, with knack of producing strong melodies with
memorable choruses. This album is one of
the more fully realised debut albums produced by any Australian band and
includes strong material such as My Cherie Amour, Autumn Leaves, I Swallowed My
Pride and the utterly convincing closer, I Will Persuade You. This reissue expands the original album by 4
tracks and adds a bonus album of B-Sides, demos, tracks released on compilation
albums and a handful of live tracks. The
highlight are live versions of Shake Some Action and a brave assault on Creedence’s Ramble Tamble recorded early in
their career for Melbourne radio.
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