Last Days in Hobart

It,s a wet and cold last day of the gigantic festival of Voices in Hobart Town, a place which does festivals better than most, certainly with unbelievable enthusiasm. This afternoon's final concert is at the Federation Hall in the Grand Chancellor Hotel, a venue use by the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra so it has great acoustics. Our gig is the final one, and will be a great ending to five days of concentrated singing and learning from a Maestro from London and New Your, Charlie Beale. It has been great fun and a fitting farewell to this strange, ambiguous city called Hobart Town, which has been my home for the past three years, and which I am soon quitting for the Shaky Isles, Wellington NZ. Mixed feelings come upon me as I make my complicated departure, as I'm leaving a great part of me behind, with friends and many possessions I am relinquishing for the next big chapter of my life in Another Country. Three years nearly to the day, as I arrived for this same Festival in 2010, when I was singing Gospel, with the American Myron Butler, from Los Angeles. This time is with the Out and Loud segment, a collection of all the GLBTI choirs in Australia, coming together to celebrate song, love and freedom to express it. it has been uplifting and exciting and I've met some wonderful people.

Last night however I had to attend the final Alliance francaise event, the July 14 Dinner at Blackman's Bay, a modest Tasmanian story, but enjoyable in spite of the mediocre French-copy food, which didn't really work.. Too heavy and indigestible, not at all French! After the Dinner it was back to FoV Voice Box space for the wrap party, which was a total success, with a videotape sent around the world to many GLBTI choirs who had sent best wishes to us via video for the Festival. Such are the days of modern technology.

So packing and choosing what to take to Wellington, where I am sharing a house, has been occupying most of small free time. this week it will be all dedicated to the big Move. Much to do and selling my  car is not the least. But a new start is just that: new country, new friends, new home, and my sale of my car is an enormous symbol of surrender, but also of freedom, which is what this move is about. I have to analyse why my decision to leave this quaint but dysfunctional island is so correct for me. A part of my decision to  adopt Hobart was my protective nature, the tiny forgotten isle, nestling off Australia's nether regions. It seemed vulnerable, was very beautiful, and had seemingly just what I needed: a safe space with friendly natives and a natural unspoiled landscape. But three years later I know it is time to move on, Tassie is not exactly what I thought it might be, and the pundits were right. I have now proved it for myself, which is what  I always have to do. The Four Families which are reputed to rule all things on this once verdant isle, are obviously very jealous to 'keep it in the family', meaning that any change that's not in their favour, or their family's, will just not happen. Such is the history of backward sliding convict driven, Anglo-saxon governed Van Diemen's Land. Tasmania is certainly a 'great place to visit', but you don't want to know its secrets, and you never will, as the doors doors are firmly bolted. The parochial nature of this small community-oriented society is nevermore loudly   echoed than it its fierce desire to remain the 'underdog', 'cos 'that's what we were, and what we always stay, so don't try and change us!' This is the catch- cry of the country that has lost all its talented natives to the mainland or OS, and has destroyed its indigenous culture to be a shrill call in the wilderness, espoused by the few but totally ignored by the group of Tasmanians always in power who mouth platitudes, but in reality, with apologies to Edna Ferber 'I just don't give a damn!'