I spent my teenage years growing up on the east coast of Tasmania around the town of Triabunna and my parents still live in the district. Triabunna is a logging town, or it was until the local chip mill closed; now it is primarily a fishing town and gateway to the beautiful Maria Island National Park.
Triabunna is your typical country town. It has two pubs, the top pub and the bottom pub, and each has it's loyal patrons. The Spring Bay Hotel (the bottom pub) has new carpet and freshly painted walls but still maintains its country pub character and feel. An eight ball table in the main bar, the photo wall of locals engaged in many great nights in the bar and the placards advertising the social club all add to the ambiance and make you wonder what stories could be told if only the walls could talk. There is not a poker machine, tab or keno in sight and, for the locals, "The Springy" is integrated in their lives and the patrons are all part of a strange family. They accept each other despite foibles and character flaws. My dad is a loyal patron of and drops in at 11am each Friday and is home by lunch and can't be easily recognised by the patrons without his hat. So when I saw the bottom pub advertising "True Grit Out of Tamworth" I thought that it would be a perfect opportunity to catch up with my parents and continue my Arts Patronage.
Before the show we went for a good old fashioned counter meal which came with a salad complete with a slice of orange. The service at the Spring Bay Hotel is great and the staff are all really friendly. I did have an issue trying to get served by one of the more senior bar staff who served all the locals ahead of me - this was quite amusing, I had to look in the mirror to check that I didn't have my invisibility cloak on. Even funnier was once he worked out that I was a local, of sorts, and the daughter of a regular patron, then I had no problem at all. Ah, the quirks of country life.
The entertainment started with a trio of guys (Scrubby, Possum and Jim - I'm not kidding) who won't see seventy again strutting their stuff on violin, banjo and guitar. They played a lot of old favourites, the set was laden with Johnny Cash and Slim Dusty classics.
Next up was a fellow in a Drizabone jacket, Akubra hat and Blundstone boots - Bushy Thompson (again not joking). Bushy was a poet and was the highlight of the evening. His version of "Clancy of the Overflow" was fantastic. This was followed by a number of humorous Australian poems and stories. Mmmmm, poetry, maybe I am a Patron of the Arts after all.
By this time I, and a number of the patrons, had a few beers under the belt, the music recommenced and dancing ensued. The sophisticated Triabunna two-step was in evidence, along with superb dancing by a couple who had been to more than one Bush dance in their day.
That was when things started to go pear-shaped! I was sitting in the back corner with my tiny 10 oz beer (no hipster pints at the Springy) having a quiet catch up with a few of the locals that I knew from high school when it came to my attention that Jim, the leader of the troupe, was summoning the girl with the orange shirt to come forward to participate in the frivolities of the next song. I looked around to see who he might be talking about and with great horror I realised that I was the only person in the bar wearing orange. EEEEEKKKKKK!!! It was like being in high school all over again and being unexpectedly called upon by the principal to come to the front of the assembly to give a speech. Do I just run away and hope that it no one notices. Do I shyly go forward and try and keep a low profile. I opted to go forward. I made my way to the middle of the bar and stood alone and waited. Then Jim started singing "Wait until my lips cool down" directed right at me. I made a split decision to just go with it (the beers may have had some influence) and I pranced around the bar like a loon. After all, I had nothing to lose (other then my dignity). This wholehearted participation was met with cheers and clapping from the bar and more than a little laughter. It turned out to be a lot of fun but how the duck did that even happen - you can't write this stuff.
The mood of the bar was on the up and the cover of Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road" set the bar alight with much whooping and dancing. This led on to "The Gambler" which is where I found myself on that amazing Friday night wondering how I got there. But maybe there is some wisdom in Kenny's words - if you live life to the full and take chances then you'll find an ace that you can keep. After all, there'll be time enough for countin' when the dealin's done.
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