Ozcloggie is afraid of the stairs.

Lost in The Rocks, last night, I looked down the “Windmill Steps” and grabbed the railing, feeling slightly dizzy but, by now, running late and it had to be done.
I obviously looked distressed enough to have some kind people, who’d told me where the stairs were, drive around to the street below, to ensure that I’d landed safely, in Hickson Road.
I had flashbacks to looking down the steps, below the Notre Dame, in December, 1969, and to a bit of video, which I edited for a friend, in which her mother was daunted by stairs, in more recent years (Also in Paris) but most of all to my grandmother, in about 1949, who could not climb the two snow-covered steps to the entrance of the railway station in The Hague, and took me, then aged about 6?, on the tram to the other station, just because she could take those two steps up.
I had elected to attend the 8:30 p.m., performance of “Alfred Deakin is Afraid of the Dark”, by Carla Moore and had not wanted to arrive too early.
On Revesby Station the woman’s voice, on the P.A. system, cheerfully announced that the 7:05 train to Town Hall, today, had been cancelled.
That lessened the likelihood of arriving too early.
In my pocket was the print-off of “walking directions” from Circular Quay Station to the Sydney Theatre.
“Public ferry, train and bus services operate to and from The Rocks and Circular Quay. Sydney Theatre is a 20 minute walk from Circular Quay and Wynyard.”
For the third time now, in a few months’ time, nature told me that sitting at the computer, since 1996, has not been so good for my body.
Wish I’d gone in shorts and short-sleeved shirt. Instead, I wore slacks, long-sleeved shirt and coat.

Arrived at the reception desk, highly distressed and very conscious of being really in a lather of sweat and was given directions to a paper cup of water.
At least, inside the theatre, I had the best seat possible, under the circumstances. Against the wall, in the corner, on a chair which I could shift away quite a bit from the people near me.
The air-conditioning was ‘Heaven’ and I gradually came to, in time to enjoy Carla Moore’s Alfred Deakin is Afraid of the Dark.
It strikes me that, in spite of 37 years of teaching in N.S.W., primary schools, Alfred Deakin’s role in Australia’s history was (is) largely unknown to me.
Please understand that I like to think that I taught children how to research him, (at their level of developing skills_) but he was basically a name in a list of: Our Past Prime Ministers. (Unlike Paul Keating, who, in the flesh, spoke to the pupils from Georges Hall Public School, whom we’d brought to Canberra, to see their local member, { As well as the snow in Jindabyne} about the location of parliament house. (All I remember, is him waving at the surrounding streets and naming them. But, of course, I wasn’t expecting him to explain his policies to 11-year-olds).
After experiencing Carla Moore’s play and feeling that I’ve now, in a way, seen him among his family, it has been more interesting Googling him.
As I left the theatre, I joked with some people about how this had not brought me instant fame – yet.
My recorded voice was in the play, reading Deakin’s speech, translated into (“Double Dutch”). It was mainly drowned out by, not only added sound-effect, but also suitable, live, piano-accompaniment.
Of course, I would have liked it, if it could have been a little more audible, i.e., faded-in a little more, to hear a sentence or so, clearly, before mixing into the ‘dream sequence’.
Who doesn’t want their 1 minute of ‘fame’?
As I was making my way down the Windmill Steps, to the theatre, in a daze, call it slight panic, from the conversation of some people coming up the other side, obviously after the earlier performance, wafted up the words: “Double Dutch”.
Wish I could have heard more.
In the weeks leading up to 26/27 March, I was preoccupied with preparations for the Dutch Festival, held, in St Marys, by the Rembrandt Club.
On behalf of the D.A.C.C., I had invited film producer, John Mulder, and a number of authors, also with strong Dutch connections, to ‘show-case’ their creative works.
Add Carla Moore (née Kogel), who (also) came to Australia as a child, to the list, of people whose efforts work towards us being less “the Invisible Dutch”!!!
POST SCRIPT: I had attended one other play, by Carla Moore. That was a little moore than at least a decade (?) ago and it was set in Scheyville (used as a “migrant reception centre”, when my mother and I were there, in 1956).
Would you believe (99!), that just before I left home, I was emailing Anneke Boudewijn, of SBS Radio – Dutch Program – about the celebrations to be held, at Scheyville, on May 15!!???!!!
“Is there anyone out there!?!” – arranging my life?
P.P.S.. So much enjoyed the singing of the actress taking the part of Dame Nellie Melba. Great touch!

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