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| this is not a picture of bendigo writers festival enthusiasts partaking of refreshments at a view street cafe |
There was something nice about the Saturday afternoon sunshine as people milled about View Street. There was still an August chill in the air lending itself to occasional slithers of melancholy. And as Kerry O'Brien quoted of Paul Keating, a little bit of melancholy is a good thing. It keeps you grounded... (But I wouldn't hear that get said until tomorrow)
I had just come from a session at the Capitol Theatre. It was good to stretch my legs.
The football was also on at the Queen Elizabeth Oval. Bendigo-town was alive with activity today.
I could have stood and watched the coming and going of people all afternoon. I am a people watcher.I am curious about them and their stories. I like to imagine what lives might have been like and what they may still offer into the future.
Standing just removed from the cold shadows cast by the the heritage buildings and watching the groups of people and individuals come and go along View Street it is easy to imagine people doing something similar 100 hundred years ago. Gathering to discuss and gossip and swapping points of view.
It is easy to imagine Indigenous people - this is Dja Dja Wurrung country - meeting on this ground 200 hundred years ago. Before the colonial conquest. Sharing stories, finding meaning, creating connections.
At the moment as I watch people go about their festival ways, I find myself feeling a strange warmth inside. There is a beauty to this... It is more than some sort of sickly sentimentality... Even if there is a twinge of nostalgia, but what for I am not sure of at the moment...
For something that I am not aware of having lost? For something I am awaiting to discover?
I then find myself going on a tangent and thinking what did people spend their money on before takeaway coffee?
Most people were clutching one as they strolled about. Some people even held two. In recent times I have gone old school and resorted to using an old thermos. And a trusty old enamel cup. It saves on waste... (The more I watch the coffee cup clutchers the more I try to calculate the waste...) (Let it go Jason, I think you may be missing the point of the festival)
And of course no outing these days seems to be complete without a dog so people - not many but enough for me to notice - even had one of those along.
But they were probably only passing through. (Aren't we all?)
Perhaps they were just following their usual Saturday dog-walk-routine?
(I like dogs but I think they are over-represented at public festivals...)
(Unless of course they happen to be at public festivals for dogs aka dog shows ... but I don't go to dog shows)
But I couldn't spend all afternoon just watching people come and go.
There were other things to do, other obligations to fulfill. Other speakers to hear and other conversations to mull over.
But I could spend all afternoon just watching people come and go and listen to the football crowd noise behind me and wonder what sort of discussions the festival goers were having in front of me.
I think that is what I will do next year. I'll take up a spot just up from the old fire station in View Street and for a couple of hours I will just soak up the atmosphere. In a way that would be like being at a festival without really being at the festival.
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