We're back from our South Coast sojourn, which was very lovely and everything, but fark, any chance someone could look into the whole South Coast telecommunications thing? Eight days is a looong time to impotently press buttons on your phone with nothing but a 'No Service' message staring blankly back at you.
By day six I was actually enjoying watching the wrens in the beach-side garden; imagine, wrens.
Anyway, we're back and I can now happily post some photos from The National gig I was very lucky to go to before we left last week.
Thanks to my dear friend Dave (who gallantly offered his ticket), I found myself on Saturday night gorging on a pre-gig dinner of nachos and excitedly spilling my beer at a pub a block away from the Enmore Theatre where The National (preceded by The Middle East) were taking the stage.
Mystifyingly (from this 11-day distance in time) I took photos of the band playing several of their songs, as though the photos could transmit images and sound. Nonsensical, yes, but surely I'm not alone in doing this?
Anyway, here they are during their opening number, 'Runaway':
And again during 'Bloodbuzz Ohio':
And once again, magnificently, during 'Afraid of Everyone':
Sure you can't really see anything in these photos and they could, for all we can tell, be shots of Roxette playing live at the Sydney Entertainment Centre circa 1988 (a concert I did, for shame, attend); but if you can take my word for it (given the absence of any submittable evidence), it was a very, very good show, and the music was very, very good indeed.
The only regrettable part of the evening was the presence of this woman, sitting several rows in front of me, who I came to think of rather spitefully as 'That Bloody Annoying Woman with the Radically Out-Dated Bowl-Shaped Perm Who Appears to be Suffering From Some Kind of Finger-Based Tourette Syndrome That May Or May Not In Fact Be Her Attempt at Gettin' Jiggy With The Music':
Seriously, she would have waggled that finger about at least 900 times during the concert.
Here she is again, many, many hours later, still at it:
The only thing worse than the perm-headed finger waggling woman was this guy:
But at least he wasn't waggling his big head about.