The first real gig I ever played, I got paid in pasta. I played clarinet in a pick-up “jazz” band at Crawleys Restaurant halfway between the little towns of Watervale and Auburn in mid-north South Australia (Google Maps tells me the area is called Leasingham these days). The piano was half a semi-tone flat which made it hard to tune our instruments but it was exhilarating and exhausting and wonderful.

I was about 15 years old and it was the first time I ateÂ fettucini. Creamy white sauce, soft silky pasta.

It’s never tasted quite the same.

12 June 2010

Old Friends

I saw a friend in a car park, struggling to get something out of the boot. Wandering over, I asked if she needed a hand. She said, “No,” so I reached in for a hello hug, realising just in time that I had never met this woman in my life. Up close she didn’t really look like my friend at all. Older. Different hairstyle. Completely different expression of horror on her face. I recoiled rapidly and, mumbling a hasty apology, hurried off to wherever I was headed.

It was a few years ago now. I just remembered the situation last night and am surprised at how vividly I can recall that awful moment of discovery.

I think I can feel a new song coming on.

Moments

Fettucini

Old Friends