Show me a great actor and I'll show you a lousy husband. Show me a great actress, and you've seen the devil.~ W. C. FieldsOne of these days I am going to drive into Brisbane without having a serious meltdown. I am going to become accustomed to traffic ~ & traffic hazards. Better yet, I am going to know where I am without recourse to sugar, deep breathing & a road map ~ but that day wasn't yesterday.
QPAC. I know where QPAC is. I've done this trip a zillion times. I know how long it takes. I timed myself perfectly, except for one thing. No~one told me there was a French festival taking place at Southbank! I zipped down Grey Street, hurtled round the corner & prepared to nip into the QPAC parking space ~ only the sign said FULL! Meltdown!
I reluctantly edged further along to the museum car park ~ which was thankfully still empty but of course that had cut into our available time & Star had managed to spread her belongs throughout the car during the hour drive & naturally wasn't ready to vacate the vehicle.
Brisbanites being Brisbanites signposted nothing but we scooted past the giant ferris wheel & all the scaffolding around the Con building & found our foyer with the required number of wannabes & their parents in various stages of angst. Neither Star or I can quite bring ourselves to regard these things with the desired degree of seriousness & as Star didn't expect to make the cut was determined to enjoy the experience. Good thing too.
The children were herded away & then a little man popped out like a jack~in~the box to inform all the parents that Tosca was a standard repertoire piece & just because a child did not make the cut did not mean they were unmusical, untalented or plain awful; it just meant whoever they chose had to be able to fit into the pre~existing wardrobe! My mini Marilyn Monroe was never going to manage that so I settled down with my book & prepared to wait it out.
Star informed me later that the wardrobe mistress was amongst the judging panel & as soon as she was introduced Star twigged & knew she was out ~ which removed all pressure & she gave a pretty good audition ~ apart from the fact she forgot her own name & always has trouble deciding on which school year she is supposed to be in! Her singing was good though!
Once she was done we wandered along Southbank. I had vague aspirations of getting a hot chocolate at the fancy chocolate place but the que was out the door & round the block. We stood & watched the street theatre for a while: some guy with fire sticks & a 9metre chain doing a Houdini but Star's tummy was rumbling, as it always is if she's been singing, so we opted for waffles & pancakes ~ meaning I had waffles with strawberries & maple syrup & Star had something that went by the name of Rocky Road Pancakes & was disgustingly sweet!
Fortified with sugar we braved the rain & the darkening streets to find our way home, chatting amiably about the need for all performers to takes risks, Shakespeare, The Brontes & whether or not my copy of Jane Eyre was on the shelves upstairs. Yep, the girl did good.