Ignorance, according to my old Physics master Ronald ‘Harry’ Boardman, is bliss. And of course he was in part correct. All through my schooling I was blissfully unaware of the works of Archimedes, Boyle’s Law and Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principal; a willful ignorance that often led to Mr Boardman hurling a board rubber at me whilst screaming his catchphrase – “IDIOT! NO! YOU’RE NOT EVEN THAT CLEVER – YOU’RE A QUARTER HALFWIT!”
And it wasn’t just Physics. I was convinced Euripedes, the tragedian of ancient repute, was a Greek tailor…
“You rippa dese trousers, I menda dese trousers.”
Sorry. I just slipped into stand-up mode there, I’ve been watching a lot of DVDs recently of old British comedians and they have a habit of rubbing off when one starts holding forth on matters.
Now, where was I? Ah yes. Bliss. Events over the course of this past weekend have led me to question Mr Boardman’s aeons-old law of bliss, and I’ve come up with the following examples:
Bliss is pottering about in one’s underpants in the morning, looking forward to the day ahead.
Bliss is putting on some sharp threads when you don’t normally need to.
Bliss is meeting up with some friends, old and new, to have a couple of swift ones as the moment of truth looms.
Bliss is arriving at a wonderful venue, in wonderful weather, with the sense of anticipation hanging heavily in the air.
Bliss is the wonderful staff at the wonderful venue opening the bar just a little bit earlier than they wanted to, so the friends, old and new, could have a swift livener to settle any remaining pre-match nerves.
Bliss is the Lady Wife turning up, looking as beautiful as the day we got married.
Bliss is a gathering of faces from all over the world, even with ash clouds gathering, to be in this one place at this one time.
Bliss is watching two valued friends say their wedding vows to one another in the afternoon sun.
Bliss is the celebration starting in earnest.
Bliss is bellowing Don’t Stop Believing at the top of one’s voice.
Bliss is sumptuous foodstuffs being brought to your table repeatedly, until you feel like Mr Creosote.
Bliss is watching people throw caution to the wind and make fools of themselves on the dance floor, swing-style.
Bliss is the light dimming, slowly, and the realisation that you’ve had enough.
Bliss is going home with the one you love after a perfect day.
Bliss was Allan and Elisa’s wedding – thanks guys, and all the best for the years to come.
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But enough of the dewy eyed reminiscing. There are campaigns to be fought and this column would like to exhort you, if you haven’t done so already, to get over to Facebook and join the group I Want to Help Shape the Future of Music in Canberra. There you’ll find some likeminded souls concerned about the way things are going in this town viz a viz live music, its venues and the hounding thereof by the cloth-eared forces of repression that pass for a government in the nation’s capital. It also has some handy tips on how you can get involved in the democratic process by submitting your own thoughts to the ongoing government inquiry into Canberra’s live entertainment scene. There are a lot of people around in positions of power that would not worry a bit if live music withers on the vine in Canberra and, if you don’t voice your opposition to them, they’ll assume you agree with them. Let’s go to work!
