17-20 August 1985 - Stop making STD calls
Saturday 17th August 1985 found me in the cellar of the United Service Club, serving out my Saturday morning shift. I recorded a pleasant cycle home along the river; a visit to my Nana and Pop in Hill End, and; a ride home over the Storey Bridge. How civilised and twee.
At home there was the usual washing to be done and, it was a share house, so there was washing up to be done before the early evening malaise was interrupted, apparently, by an enormous storm. It was Saturday night, my work was done, I was ,
going into town (I'll stop that before I infect anyone reading this with the Sprayfresh ad... Whoops!). I met Pip in town and, even 27 years ago, went to Jo Jo's for dinnerbefore hitting the movies for the Talking Heads, Stop Making Sense film.Now there was a movie to lift the spirits and make anyone feel alive with the creative juices.
Sunday hit out with the 10 to 2 shift on Triple Zed. It was APRA week, which added an admin impost to the shift. Each announcer had to fill in a sheet listing every track played and a number of details about each track - I always found it easier to do it in one go at the end of the shift. Still and all, after the sheets were completed, I caught a ferry to Hill End and a bus to Pip's house in Dorchester St for the very first, Conway Christ brainstorming meeting - all pencils, pads and typewriters.
The weekend ended and Monday brought it's usual La Bamba meeting, which for some reason 'put me on edge' - I know that sounds intriguing, but obviously not enough for me to have written down the reason. The outcome was another show cancelled due to lack of available talent. As an aside, there's a phone number in el diario - seven digits rather than eight - these were the days when calling the Gold Coast was an STD call (Standard Trunk Dialling - not that other acronym) and anywhere outside Brisbane required an 07-something code)
Pushing on till Tuesday and the La Boîte meeting that always followed La Bamba meetings on Mondays, was being held at Narelle Arcidiacono's house in Brae St, at Coorparoo and taking food was a requirement of this day. Also a requirement of this day, work-wise, was a massive liquor and transport industry strike, which moved my employer to close the cellar and re-deploy me to foodish duties for the morning.
Laura McKew collected me after work and transported me and Margerite Bonin to this mighty important, re-structuring kind of La Council meeting. Helen Routh drove me home.