The Cure

Ive got to write this really quickly.
On Tuesday night Bombed Village and I flew up to Sydney
on Tiger airlines. Herded like chickens onto the smallest plane ever built where a decidedly disinterested lepricorn mumbled safety instructions at us.

We wouldnt have it any other way.

We flew to Sydney. Leaving Melbourne. One city was wonderful, the other miserable.
We loved both of them.

Went to the worst part of Sydney, found the dodgiest pub and drank some of their watery
brew. Snaffled a B.L.A.T. with old chips. Wonderful. Went to our accommodation. 3 English kids slept in the dorm and had made it their own. Lynx was in the air and only served to make the dorm smell worse. NB: Lynx does not make bad smells vanish. It makes them worse. So deal with the bad smell first, then use Lynx.

Left accommodation. Traveled by train to the Opera House. Sat inside and watched The Cure play their first 3 albums. Amazing. Ive got shivers, as I recall it. I didnt have shivers then. We just watched and studied. Everything. Robert Smith amazed us with his skills and it seemed for a moment even he was taken back all 33 years to a different time and place, pre-make up, pre bed-hair and we watched and listened intently as his voice told of his different emotions. Letting us decide what they were. Love, whizzing past too fast to slow down.

The band were amazing, in that they werent. Very few tricks. Sometimes it looked like they wished they'd never recorded a particular song and grimaced at playing it. Sometimes they looked and felt like they'd only ever written that song, and that it was enough for a lifetime.

Heaps of other stuff happened. But like I say...I gotta be quick. Me kids asleep on the front doorstep and when he wakes I have to have sausages ready.

I love Sydney. I love The Cure. I love Tiger airlines. If you're into paying homage, then this was a night spent learning how to do it properly. Dont. Just play.

We're really really glad we went.

And now we dont have any money.