Please don't make me sing along.

The Lighthouse Theatre, Warrnambool.

Adrian and I were sharing an apartment in Adelaide. As I was getting ready for bed he said;

'You should listen to some Dr Karl, it'll help you sleep.'

'Nah, I'm alright.'

'No you should.'

'Really, I'm fine.'

'But you should.'

This went on for a while until he put Dr Karl on his iphone and played it to me as I brushed my teeth. And as I removed my make up. And as I closed my bedroom door in his face. And as I climbed in to bed and he remained outside my room with the phone pressed firmly against the door.

'Legie, have you noticed how the hollow door provides an echo, like the acoustics are even better to listen to Dr Karl to?'

'Yes, yes I've noticed.'

The following morning we listened to Dr Karl in the car. There's no denying Adrian's point. Dr Karl knows everything there is to know about everything. I don't like him.

After a while Keir put on a podcast for us about the Kama Sutra. We were all expecting an education in sex. What we got was a stiff (stop it) scholarly type explaining the difference between Kama and Karma.

'This is a bit dry,' Kate observed dryly.

I fell asleep and dreamed that Dr Karl was explaining the Kama Sutra in a peppy and upbeat way. He wears bright fun clothes to make learning cool. I don't like him.

Central Market, Adelaide.

I had a wander around the Central Market in Adelaide before we left. Hundreds of food stalls and cafes. At eight in the morning it was buzzing with activity. Families stood around laughing and chatting, drinking coffee. Amidst all the hustle and bustle I saw a very old man, sat on his own at a table in a knitted bobble hat eating ice cream for breakfast. I desperately wanted to get a picture of him and so made a pretence of needing directions to get talking to him. He found me confusing and didn't seem to know entirely where he was, what was going on or why the strange woman with the tattoos was talking at him. I felt bad for bothering him and before leaving pointed at his ice cream and said; 'Is that breakfast?' He grinned and shrugged innocently before picking up his spoon and tucking in with all the enthusiasm of a four year old. Why do we only appreciate the world in that way at the beginning and end of our lives? I suppose its the two periods in which we feel we have nothing to lose.

On the way to Mount Gambier we stopped in a small town called Keith for lunch. This caused me no end of amusement, which like the dick I am, I catalogued on Facebook:

“Don't cry Dahlink, we'll always have Keith.”

“We Need To Talk About Keith.”

The fact that I'm repeating it here does me no credit whatsoever but I'm still giggling.

Where are we?

We had a great lunch and I found a thin silver bracelet with three tiny four leaf clovers on it. Two of them had the word 'Courage' engraved on them and one had the word 'Bliss'. As one of my current favourite songs of Kate's is a new one called Bliss I thought it all very serendipitous and bought it. Two parts courage, one part bliss. Seems like a good ratio. Also, I got a 20% discount so everyone's a winner.

At the show last night there were a couple standing vigil outside the doors two hours before the performance was due to start. I set up the merchandise stand under their constant unwavering stares. When the doors were opened they came straight over and asked me if Kate would be signing that evening.

'Definitely, she always does,' I smiled.

The woman was in her early thirties and quite heavily pregnant.

'We lost a little one,' she said. 'We played Last Day On Earth at the funeral.'

This happens a lot. What can you say? I mostly say that I'm sorry and that Kate will of course sign anything they want. On one occasion I just grabbed a woman and hugged her for an inappropriate length of time. Her story was so heartbreaking and so recent. The easy answer would be; 'Kate write something a bit more fucking disco would ya?'

I don't see anyone coming up at the end of gigs saying; 'Thanks so much for “Can't Shake It”, I too am rhythmically challenged and that song got me through a really hard time in my life.'

Now that I've written that down I rahealllly want it to happen.

A great woman came to the gig in Adelaide. She's a roller Derby chick and her Derby name is 'Skate Chiller Heidke'. Excellent. She got Kate to autograph her arm and she had an appointment the following morning at 9.45 am to get it permanently inked. 

Not a wanker.

Keir is Kate's opening support at all the regional venues. He can't perform in the churches because, apparently, he's a bit 'blue'. His alter ego is called Franky Walnut and people often don't realise its the same person playing with Kate later on. He comes on stage in flip flops (or Thongs are they are so wrongly called here) and a hat and sings very funny songs. I love sitting in the foyer at the beginning of the show and listening to him sing a song called 'Please don't make me sing along.' I particularly love hearing the audience sing the chorus back at him with real gusto:

Please don't make me sing along
I don't like to sing

and I don't like this song

Please don't make me sing along

You're a wanker, you're a wanker, you're a wanker.

On our way out of town we stopped off to see the famous blue lake which was beautiful. And big. We have so little time between venues the tourist attractions are a bit of a hit and run affair which actually suits my nature very well. Get out. Admire. Take picture. Get in car. Find coffee. 'Tourist Attraction' has become synonymous with 'Ciggie Break'. All Kate has to say is “Apparently there's a beautiful -” and I've got my pouch of Dead Bryan tobacco out and poised.

 Whilst driving to Warrnambool Kate found a message on her public FB profile from a fan saying that he owned a fish and chip shop in Hayward (Haywood?) which was on our way and he'd be delighted if Kate came there and was his guest for lunch. She gets a few invites like this and its pretty much impossible to accommodate them. And also, you know, weird. But we ended passing directly by it and decided to stop off and say hello anyway. As we parked up I saw a man in his 50's behind the counter do a comical double take and run out the back. When we walked inside he was stood there grinning from ear to ear. His assistant said;

Ravens Nest Chip Shop.

'Thank you so much for coming, he's been beside himself all day. I said you probably wouldn't come. And here you are!'

He was lovely. He phoned his wife (“Ahm telling you Diane, she is REALLY here. She is stood right here. No ahm not makin' it up woman!”) who came over to say hello and made us a coffee. He also tried to teach Keir how to juggle. Kate had her picture taken with them and we carried on with our drive all a bit jollier for the experience. They're coming to the gig tonight too.

The accommodation here in Warrnambool is excellent. Last nights in Mount Gambier was surreal. Don't get me wrong, it was spacious, clean, it had everything we needed. But I'm pretty sure we were the only people staying there. And it wasn't small. When we returned from the gig the place was in darkness and there wasn't a soul in charge. The whole hotel was decorated fabulously back in 1972 and had since maintained that décor with an unwavering and mutinous determination. There was even a white mini grand in the reception area, right by the low sweeping staircase. Every time I walked down it I found myself swaggering and humming Saturday Night Fever. It boasted a free, instant and super fast wifi connection. The one concession to a treacherous world that had left flock wall paper and taupe behind. As I lay in my slightly porn like bed I received a text from Adrian next door saying:

“My download says its going to take 8 weeks & 6 days to complete on this internet connection.”

Chasing the ball.

On the way in to town we stopped to look at a beautiful view/have a smoke, and feel the grass beneath our feet/use it as an ashtray. Keir and Adrian were bouncing their tiny juggling balls as high as they could and then running to retrieve them. They looked like kids, all happy at play.

Watching Keir chase the ball.

Kate and I looked at the view and spotted a group of snoozing kangaroos on the hillside.

'I'm having such a great time Kate.'

'Really? I hope so. I always think you must get bored during the shows every night.'

'I'm having such a great time Kate.'

In other news, I had to explain to Adrian what Dogging is today. I'll leave that with you.

Ashtray