In the Realm of the Senses 2007 is to be held at the Collingwood Children’s Farm, probably a much more sensible location than last year’s under-attended Deep Rock Reserve in Yarra Bend Park. It’s a short film festival open to entries only from Australian and New Zealand film makers. I went to the 2006 festival, absolutely froze my balls off, and got quite excited about the lead film, about the tour to India by The Abbotsford Anglers, a cricket team, before realising very belatedly that the team belonged to Abbotsford in Sydney.
Their website is one of the most beautiful bits of web design I have ever seen, and you should go there now just to check it out (compare how crappy their Myspace site looks.) The brochure I picked up the other day says:
“Featuring a mish mash of live roving performers; DJs spinning a vast array of eclectic tunes; Visual Projections by hi.tek.trash; Healing and chill out zone; Random acts of kindness; Tasty mouth watering food; ‘El Rancho Relaxo’ bar; BYO couch, beanbag, blankets”. (1300 361 574)
The Park Hotel duly celebrated its third birthday on April Fool’s Day with a party as advertised, though the sign outside said the party was cancelled due to lack of interest. There was a jazz band, lots of bright young things, and films, then, apparently, DJs. Continue reading “Park Hotel’s Third Birthday Party”
Now I do like a bit of Chinoiserie moderne, and it’s a la mode right now in newly degrunged pubs and quirky Japanese cafes alike. The Park Hotel is a truly excellent pub in Abbotsford, which manages to be grungy and degrunged at once, down Nicholson St a bit from the Retreat Hotel on the other side at no. 191 (9419 4352). It has copies of Truth lying around (and I thought defamation writs had shut it down, but it seemed to have morphed even more into a racing tabloid), itself more kitsch interior decor than true fodder for the regs probably but then I’m not sure about that, and a good beer garden, with a pool table. Its kitchen serves up tasty tucker and its prices are reasonable. One time, its taps had broken down and they were selling stubbies for the price of pots. That was a good day. Its present incarnation’s having its third birthday on April Fool’s Day, and, unless they’re joshing, there’s going to be fillums ‘n all. [I can’t find any evidence on the internet of The Truth being extant, but that doesn’t mean anything. I did find this interview of a former editor though, in which the rag is described as something read by folk who won their money on the racing pages and spent it on the brothel pages, and in which it is recounted that a Mr Justice Innes described it in the 1890s as “a wretched little paper reeking of filth”. I also learnt that it broke some serious stories, including what happened at Maralinga with the A bomb blasts. Those were the days, when it would sell 400,000 copies a day.]