My Quota of Culture

Perhaps because of the conditions under which I demanded a visit to Te Papa museum in Wellington last year, Hayden reckons (he twists my words around) I am due only one classical music concert and one visit to a large art gallery annually. He’s chuffed with himself because according to his calculations I have filled my quota already; little does he realise that a sharp trot through the Brisbane GoMA and Saturday night’s Beethoven concert by the Barrier Reef Orchestra do not count. I mean, it was really nice to see an orchestra, and because we were sitting in row B right down on the left hand side, we were close enough that I could remember exactly what it’s like to sit in amongst the first violins. One of my bookgroup pals is a violinist herself and she has asked me more than once to join the orchestra, and I might even. Hayden please note that this would mean a lot more attendance at classical music concerts for you.

On Sunday it was warm enough to warrant a daytime movie, and we undid all the cultural education of the night before by going to see Wild Hogs. I thought it was going to be awful – the reviewer in the Townsville Bully only gave it two stars – but actually I enjoyed it a lot. It was really funny. Admittedly none of the jokes were really new, but there were enough of them not to mind much. Best of all the four main players, though all men, actually had different characters and even remained true to themselves until the end of the movie. Well done, Hollywood.