Hundreds of dancers gathered in the dark at Kew RSL one to hear one of the best bands playing live at the moment and two to celebrate Ronnie Charles birthday.
I still find it sad that Jef isn't there. I noticed even his fake moustaches were no longer stuck on an amp.
Outside grabbing a quick cigarette two young women in 6 inch high heels were calling a taxi. We mentioned they were very young to be at this gig and laughing they replied that their parents were inside and that they came with them. How wonderful is it that our generation is determined to share our music with our offspring.
Jaime and Tezz have both been to Kew to listen to the band. Hesitantly they admitted the muscos were damn good and the choice of songs brilliant.
Helen and I have only one complaint we both detest Rambling Man and the band plays it every time we see them.
Dancing in the dark is an interesting study of middle aged behaviour. Once the music starts we start, the dancing is non stop, all types of movements, all accepted and appreciated and with a quiet knowing that come Sunday some of us will struggle to move quite so freely.
We come in all shapes and sizes and dress in our own styles, regardless non of that matters. The acceptance of differences is a credit to our generation. Once again the manager thanked the band for assisting them to earn money and stay trading. Kew has no pokies, it has not been renovated or altered in any way except some decking on the outside where dancers gather to catch some fresh air and to cool off between sets before hitting the floral carpet for the next round of dancing.
The band finishes at eleven thirty thanks to a complaint by a neighbour who moved in knowing bands played on Saturday nights. The sad part the complainant is far younger than anyone inside the building.
I feel certain a compliant about the noise of the brilliant band will be made today as the doors were thrown open to allow a flow of fresh air in, as a strange odour was wafting through, maybe an odour associated with the age group and arrogance we hold that this can be partaken of in public.
Dancing in the dark truly nourishes my soul. I feel Jef is there grinning at the antics in the room and missing sitting with his guitar on stage but his influence remains in the dark.
I still find it sad that Jef isn't there. I noticed even his fake moustaches were no longer stuck on an amp.
Outside grabbing a quick cigarette two young women in 6 inch high heels were calling a taxi. We mentioned they were very young to be at this gig and laughing they replied that their parents were inside and that they came with them. How wonderful is it that our generation is determined to share our music with our offspring.
Jaime and Tezz have both been to Kew to listen to the band. Hesitantly they admitted the muscos were damn good and the choice of songs brilliant.
Helen and I have only one complaint we both detest Rambling Man and the band plays it every time we see them.
Dancing in the dark is an interesting study of middle aged behaviour. Once the music starts we start, the dancing is non stop, all types of movements, all accepted and appreciated and with a quiet knowing that come Sunday some of us will struggle to move quite so freely.
We come in all shapes and sizes and dress in our own styles, regardless non of that matters. The acceptance of differences is a credit to our generation. Once again the manager thanked the band for assisting them to earn money and stay trading. Kew has no pokies, it has not been renovated or altered in any way except some decking on the outside where dancers gather to catch some fresh air and to cool off between sets before hitting the floral carpet for the next round of dancing.
The band finishes at eleven thirty thanks to a complaint by a neighbour who moved in knowing bands played on Saturday nights. The sad part the complainant is far younger than anyone inside the building.
I feel certain a compliant about the noise of the brilliant band will be made today as the doors were thrown open to allow a flow of fresh air in, as a strange odour was wafting through, maybe an odour associated with the age group and arrogance we hold that this can be partaken of in public.
Dancing in the dark truly nourishes my soul. I feel Jef is there grinning at the antics in the room and missing sitting with his guitar on stage but his influence remains in the dark.
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