Village life. Chitter-chat. This spat the Lord Mayor-elect is having with the inFringistas before he even gets the friggin chain around his neck is like remembering an ingrown toenail from forty years back.
Before they replaced the East End Market with housing, The Exeter would open at 4AM to make breakfast for the market workers ... nowdays, it's more likely to be closing at 4AM ... Adelaide-built Valiant photographed by Philip White
Not that I totally lack form in the arts. I attempted to edit the Fringe newspaper when the headquarters and bar were in a polite secluded hall on Kintore Avenue. Once I saw the whole damn thing as a bi-annual race to attract more and more acts and innocent hopefuls regardless of your incapacity as organiser to keep your publicity promises and guarantees of technical stage assistance with lights, kit, crew and audience, I quit, leaving the job to the lugubrious Christopher Pearson, who delighted in the access it provided to keen young performers.
The author visits the Mines Department, Rundle Street, East End, 1973. The Hungry Jack carpark on the corner of Pulteney and Rundle replaced the lovely, fusty old Department and Geological Survey, which was the decaying Foys department store of five storeys built around two light wells later converted to inexpensive offices populated 100% by incredible nerds and rockdoctors ... when I eventually went to work there, it felt like we lived in a Raymond Chandler special ... photo Chris Langman, daubed by Maire 'Mizzo' Mannik (left)
" 'What then?' you say, 'is it not sometimes a simpler matter just to avoid the uproar?' I admit this. Accordingly, I shall change from my present quarters. I merely wished to test myself and to give myself practice. Why need I be tormented any longer, when Ulysses found so simple a cure for his comrades even against the songs of the Sirens? Farewell."