Saturday nights are always special. George Street would find it difficult to make way for the cabs. Even when taking a tight turn, drivers would probably refuse to down the gear. There would always be someone drunk, having a narrow escape and feel satisfied with abusing the driver. Drivers always wait in a long line in their cabs one behind the other; perhaps down to the ‘Eleven Screens Cinemas’ at the street end. They pick people from ‘Liquids’ and ‘Galaxy’ and sometimes from ‘Royal casino’. And most of the times they are asked to stop on their way at ‘Roosters’ or ‘Peri peri’. The night would remain incomplete without ‘chicken n chips’. Every street would smell fried hot potatoes.
Cab drivers assist drunk girls to get inside. And if you dare to condemn those midnight beauties they would probably say that “I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly”!! Bouncers would find it hard to keep peace among the fighting ‘cow boys’. People dance in the ballrooms.
And when I enter the ballrooms, I see people only in slow motions. Many people would dance in the ballroom. They drift along the vast reaches of the ballroom as if nobody is watching. They sometimes float down the corners clasping in the hands of each other.
And when I enter the ballrooms, I see people only in slow motions. Many people would dance in the ballroom. They drift along the vast reaches of the ballroom as if nobody is watching. They sometimes float down the corners clasping in the hands of each other.
Every night I used to walk these streets in the town centre. ‘Brewery taps’ and cemetery fence line the Vicarage Street. Cemetery looks beautiful like a garden. Maple trees and bougainvilleas make it colourful. It never reminds me of any wandering bloodthirsty vampires. Cemetery was just behind the night club. And do not expect silence around in the weekends.
Girls bob ‘up and down’ out in the street as if they refuse to get rid of the hangover. Love knows no reasons and waits for no logic, it just happens and when they fall in love, taxi drivers continue to refuse to down the gear and George Street would find it again hard to make way for the cabs. They are drunk, Miss and in the morning they would find no reason to believe that they ever fall in love. I remember the story of Narcissus; the Greek hero who denied the love of nymph Echo and as a punishment, “he was doomed to fall in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. Unable to consummate his love, Narcissus pined away and changed into a flower that bears his name the Narcissus”. You would find it out in the cemetery.
Girls bob ‘up and down’ out in the street as if they refuse to get rid of the hangover. Love knows no reasons and waits for no logic, it just happens and when they fall in love, taxi drivers continue to refuse to down the gear and George Street would find it again hard to make way for the cabs. They are drunk, Miss and in the morning they would find no reason to believe that they ever fall in love. I remember the story of Narcissus; the Greek hero who denied the love of nymph Echo and as a punishment, “he was doomed to fall in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. Unable to consummate his love, Narcissus pined away and changed into a flower that bears his name the Narcissus”. You would find it out in the cemetery.
And again in the ballrooms, I see people only in slow motions. Many people would dance in the ballroom. They drift along the vast reaches of the ballroom as if nobody is watching. They sometimes float down the corners clasping in the hands of each other. They dance all through the night. And I used to walk these streets all around.
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