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Wednesday Onwards, Performing Arts Museum
Jun. 18th, 2006 02:44 amWednesday showed the importance of remembering exactly which buses go where. I got into town a little before most places opened, and I had an idea to go and get some new shoes from the Kingsize in Inglewood since a-they're the bigger store and b-I'd have less waiting round and c-lousy shoestores rarely have anything bigger than a 13, so they suck. So, on that split second decision, I jumped on the 60 the minute before it left the terminus. Now, I thought the 66 was the bus that goes the longish way round a couple of blocks behind my Aunt's place, and the 60 went up Beaufort Street (which is where Kingsize is) like the 21. Guess who was surprised to be turning off Beaufort into Brisbane Street?
So, I was on the wrong bus, but it was still early morning, so I just went with it up to the terminus at Morley's Galleria shopping centre. I still don't see how people can be relaxed shopping there. Slightly after nine, and already people crowding around, either getting in way or appearing suddenly from behind. Some people need reminding that personal space is larger than 1 nanometre (I mean, I personally like the idea of personal space being about 10 light years...)
Did a little looking around for anything that might be interesting (the water feature by the main escalators needs fish, methinks). Reaching Dymocks I was sorely tempted by boxset of two quarto hardbound volumes known as The Complete Far Side, but managed to resist at $275. Instead was won over to the new DS9 book (if "won over" means "something I was waiting for anyway and saw at a store I have a card for") and a certain scientic book concerning the progress of science.*
From there I hightailed it out of there and into the Battye Library back in town to continue my research - some articles I've had noted down for a while, and some stuff I only just found out recently. Hooray, I have figured out how to use a microfilm printer. Of course, getting a good quality printout is still impossible, but why should they be any different from their microfiche cousins? I got the important pieces (a small bio on one great-great-grandfather, a letter to the editor from another, both over a hundred years ago) on the legible areas. Looking up the details of a great-uncle, I had to resort to a history on CD-ROM for the school he was Principal of - they originally had it online too, but when the school closed years ago...
With as much as I was going to get done in the day done, I made my way out to the busport. On my walk through, while waiting for the lights at St Georges Terrace there passed a van painted with a large picture of Judge Dredd and the words "You can't judge me - I am the law!" Of note was that traffic controller at the Century City building site let him pass before stopping the other traffic - nobody stops Dredd!
Friday saw me once again heading off pell-mell into the city - I should plan these things out more, for this trip cost me my hair! Well, yeah, I'd been meaning to get it cut anyway, just lucky to get in at a quiet time, and out right in time for the 21 - the right bus for Beaufort Street this time. And my idea of going to the biggest Kingsize worked, they had a pair in the size I need – in, surprise the people by needing 18s, out, done.
Back to town, and the Battye Library once more. This time I delved into the world of the Oral History collection. In 1990 Berwick gave a series of interviews for the Oral History section (do you even need to ask what he talked about? ;)), and the result is a set of four tapes, each an hour long. I didn’t have four hours to spend listening (even if I did, I have little doubt that someone else would’ve needed the listening station), so I listened to the first tape as Grandpa recounted the stories for which he was well known in the school. As well as some of his own background and background of the time (he had been to his mother’s hometown of Moonta, South Australia, and you were considered properly travelled if you’d been to Moonta), Uncle Carl’s trouble with the trams (since he was 6 feet tall by the age of 13, he took to carrying his birth certificate when faced with inspectors), boys running and jumping for departing ferries between Perth and South Perth (yes, it did mean what you’re all thinking sometimes), and learning under Headmaster Ward, of whom even the Australian Dictionary of Biography records how he was well respected by his students, even with his famous temper (indeed, this was something of a badge of honour for the Wesley boys).
After this I took to looking up the old newspapers in the microfilm collections, now looking for obituaries. I found my great-great-grandmother’s and was copying the death and funeral notices out when an old friend (although I’m catching up to your age!)![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
njamos showed up as we had arranged. So that was that bit of research done for the time being, we went for lunch and for someone’s first introduction to the new Borders store (somehow I managed to avoid saying “tempt tempt tempt” ;)). While we were in there, all the lights went out! There were a couple of emergency lights in the coffeeshop, but in the shelves it was dark. Natasha then pointed out that we were browsing the horror section…
A trip to the city library and some tentative plans made for our next meeting in a few weeks time later, goodbyes were said, and I wandered over to the Museum of Performing Arts at His Majesty’s Theatre. Sorry,boywhocantsayno, the main theatre area was closed this week for work on the lighting, so no pictures of the inside at the moment. The Museum was still open (it has its own outside entrance), I asked and while there had been a booklet with the insides of the old theatres, it’s long out of print. While I was in there, I took a look at the current exhibition, “Anzac Coves”, about the music in Australia during the First World War, and the use of the songs to convince men to join up, first from the “Grand Adventure” to “Won’t you come help out?” to “Why the hell haven’t you signed up yet?!”, and the stories of the soldiers from the early adventures through to the ex-soldier’s lot after the war. Many copies of the sheet music and posters of performances of the day around the room, and other pieces for the time, like the actual ticketing booth of a travelling singing company, and examples of the propaganda on both sides of the conscription referenda (including a picture by artist Norman Lindsay to depict the no-voting ne’er-do-well).
This got me to thinking. My great-grandfather, Hardy R. Hanton, a bank manager, was well-known about town for having a fine bass voice – indeed, an opera singer once asked him to leave the bank and train for the opera – and was often asked to entertain, and was a member of glee clubs, church choirs and the like. So, with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that these songs on display and being played in the museum were the very songs he would’ve been singing.
Also part of one of the displays was a newspaper clipping I think you’ll find interesting,calliopes_pen, and other fans of a certain detective.
( Clipping text and explanation under cut )
Oh, and the lady at the Museum of Performing Arts gets added to the list of "people who are confused by my accent". :D
Next stop, Empire and Quality Comics (once I managed to cross the street!) for my weekly dose of illustrated goodness, and to see if there was anything unusual to spend my birthday moneys on. The result – a few more trade paperbacks than my box said I had waiting, and a white-handled phaser toy (as someone once said, there’s just something about mid-23rd century design :lol:), and then totter home with weekend’s food shopping as well, wave hello to a trio of ringneck parrots I saw, and gratefully settle in home.
Apparently we had a record-breaking low temperature this morning: -0.7 in the city, -3 at Jandakot which is a closer measuring centre *ducks objects thrown by all those in far colder climes* :P *is caught by objects thrown by someone in summer right now* ow. Anyway, I can’t really say that I noticed, since I was fast asleep at the time, with windows and blinds closed against the cold (and light, so I have no natural way of telling when it’s daytime). This evening (if sometime on the wrong side of midnight can still be called evening) has been a bit chilly though.
*Scientific Progress Goes "Boink", a Calvin and Hobbes collection for those who didn't know. :D
So, I was on the wrong bus, but it was still early morning, so I just went with it up to the terminus at Morley's Galleria shopping centre. I still don't see how people can be relaxed shopping there. Slightly after nine, and already people crowding around, either getting in way or appearing suddenly from behind. Some people need reminding that personal space is larger than 1 nanometre (I mean, I personally like the idea of personal space being about 10 light years...)
Did a little looking around for anything that might be interesting (the water feature by the main escalators needs fish, methinks). Reaching Dymocks I was sorely tempted by boxset of two quarto hardbound volumes known as The Complete Far Side, but managed to resist at $275. Instead was won over to the new DS9 book (if "won over" means "something I was waiting for anyway and saw at a store I have a card for") and a certain scientic book concerning the progress of science.*
From there I hightailed it out of there and into the Battye Library back in town to continue my research - some articles I've had noted down for a while, and some stuff I only just found out recently. Hooray, I have figured out how to use a microfilm printer. Of course, getting a good quality printout is still impossible, but why should they be any different from their microfiche cousins? I got the important pieces (a small bio on one great-great-grandfather, a letter to the editor from another, both over a hundred years ago) on the legible areas. Looking up the details of a great-uncle, I had to resort to a history on CD-ROM for the school he was Principal of - they originally had it online too, but when the school closed years ago...
With as much as I was going to get done in the day done, I made my way out to the busport. On my walk through, while waiting for the lights at St Georges Terrace there passed a van painted with a large picture of Judge Dredd and the words "You can't judge me - I am the law!" Of note was that traffic controller at the Century City building site let him pass before stopping the other traffic - nobody stops Dredd!
Friday saw me once again heading off pell-mell into the city - I should plan these things out more, for this trip cost me my hair! Well, yeah, I'd been meaning to get it cut anyway, just lucky to get in at a quiet time, and out right in time for the 21 - the right bus for Beaufort Street this time. And my idea of going to the biggest Kingsize worked, they had a pair in the size I need – in, surprise the people by needing 18s, out, done.
Back to town, and the Battye Library once more. This time I delved into the world of the Oral History collection. In 1990 Berwick gave a series of interviews for the Oral History section (do you even need to ask what he talked about? ;)), and the result is a set of four tapes, each an hour long. I didn’t have four hours to spend listening (even if I did, I have little doubt that someone else would’ve needed the listening station), so I listened to the first tape as Grandpa recounted the stories for which he was well known in the school. As well as some of his own background and background of the time (he had been to his mother’s hometown of Moonta, South Australia, and you were considered properly travelled if you’d been to Moonta), Uncle Carl’s trouble with the trams (since he was 6 feet tall by the age of 13, he took to carrying his birth certificate when faced with inspectors), boys running and jumping for departing ferries between Perth and South Perth (yes, it did mean what you’re all thinking sometimes), and learning under Headmaster Ward, of whom even the Australian Dictionary of Biography records how he was well respected by his students, even with his famous temper (indeed, this was something of a badge of honour for the Wesley boys).
After this I took to looking up the old newspapers in the microfilm collections, now looking for obituaries. I found my great-great-grandmother’s and was copying the death and funeral notices out when an old friend (although I’m catching up to your age!)
njamos showed up as we had arranged. So that was that bit of research done for the time being, we went for lunch and for someone’s first introduction to the new Borders store (somehow I managed to avoid saying “tempt tempt tempt” ;)). While we were in there, all the lights went out! There were a couple of emergency lights in the coffeeshop, but in the shelves it was dark. Natasha then pointed out that we were browsing the horror section…A trip to the city library and some tentative plans made for our next meeting in a few weeks time later, goodbyes were said, and I wandered over to the Museum of Performing Arts at His Majesty’s Theatre. Sorry,
boywhocantsayno, the main theatre area was closed this week for work on the lighting, so no pictures of the inside at the moment. The Museum was still open (it has its own outside entrance), I asked and while there had been a booklet with the insides of the old theatres, it’s long out of print. While I was in there, I took a look at the current exhibition, “Anzac Coves”, about the music in Australia during the First World War, and the use of the songs to convince men to join up, first from the “Grand Adventure” to “Won’t you come help out?” to “Why the hell haven’t you signed up yet?!”, and the stories of the soldiers from the early adventures through to the ex-soldier’s lot after the war. Many copies of the sheet music and posters of performances of the day around the room, and other pieces for the time, like the actual ticketing booth of a travelling singing company, and examples of the propaganda on both sides of the conscription referenda (including a picture by artist Norman Lindsay to depict the no-voting ne’er-do-well).This got me to thinking. My great-grandfather, Hardy R. Hanton, a bank manager, was well-known about town for having a fine bass voice – indeed, an opera singer once asked him to leave the bank and train for the opera – and was often asked to entertain, and was a member of glee clubs, church choirs and the like. So, with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that these songs on display and being played in the museum were the very songs he would’ve been singing.
Also part of one of the displays was a newspaper clipping I think you’ll find interesting,
calliopes_pen, and other fans of a certain detective.( Clipping text and explanation under cut )
Oh, and the lady at the Museum of Performing Arts gets added to the list of "people who are confused by my accent". :D
Next stop, Empire and Quality Comics (once I managed to cross the street!) for my weekly dose of illustrated goodness, and to see if there was anything unusual to spend my birthday moneys on. The result – a few more trade paperbacks than my box said I had waiting, and a white-handled phaser toy (as someone once said, there’s just something about mid-23rd century design :lol:), and then totter home with weekend’s food shopping as well, wave hello to a trio of ringneck parrots I saw, and gratefully settle in home.
Apparently we had a record-breaking low temperature this morning: -0.7 in the city, -3 at Jandakot which is a closer measuring centre *ducks objects thrown by all those in far colder climes* :P *is caught by objects thrown by someone in summer right now* ow. Anyway, I can’t really say that I noticed, since I was fast asleep at the time, with windows and blinds closed against the cold (and light, so I have no natural way of telling when it’s daytime). This evening (if sometime on the wrong side of midnight can still be called evening) has been a bit chilly though.
*Scientific Progress Goes "Boink", a Calvin and Hobbes collection for those who didn't know. :D
