Mouthing off

They are few now: travelling Circus, particularly so in a suburban environment. Unexpectedly, I found myself wandering past a Circus that had set up its BigTop, to my delight. I purchased a ticket without the least hesitation, quickly forgetting I had made an arrangement to be some other place and then spent the next hour or so being entertained by all manner of acts. There were Fire Breathers, Trapeze, Acrobats, Singers, a ramshackle Band a little bit out of tune, a pompous and stern Ringmaster who played his part to perfection keeping a sorts of order where anarchy threatened to reign. There was a Dog act that was no mongrel and fortunately no chained animals. It seems this Circus was more intent of human cleverness rather than induced captiveness for the reward of food. Of course, the kids in the audience squealed with glee in competition with their parents and some old plodders like me who were just as excited. It was a raucous, larrikin crowd intent of fun.

Too soon, the Show was over and a thrilled audience filed out into the tarty early evening spring air content with their experience. Yet, I wondered will this type of roving Circus still be around in another generation or will they be killed off by the indifference and numbing of technological goodies and false glitz of distracting trinkets? I hope not, for a Circus is a proper part of childhood (and parenting) as much in Australia as having your cheeks smudged with Vegemite or barracking for your favourite Aussie Rules side - carn the Bulldogs!

As I meandered about after the Show absorbing the atmosphere, I came across an old fashioned, though nowadays seemingly confined to mostly rural Agricultural Shows, 'Mouthing Clowns' (at least I think this is how you would ascribe them) in the seen better days side-show alley barnacled to the Circus. This is where you 'roll' coloured ping pong balls through a Clown's open mouth in an endeavour to rack up a score that would win you a prize on the backboard. It is not too hard not to win (I snared a rather large fluffy animal that looked like a Polar Bear after having a 'severe' shampoo) and $10 for 10 balls is modest value. Though, I suspect, the winning goodies are made for a fraction of that cost and probably imported. No matter, everyone wins and here is the simple pleasure. The amusement owner profits, the child playing a non-computer game profits by simple fun, the adult profits seeing her or his child laugh with delight. I am going to call the Polar Bear the 'Generalissimo' because such a name is completely absurd and was determined by utter illogic and a complete lack of sense, common or otherwise. I think, come near Christmas time, the 'Generalissimo' will end up being donated to the Salvation Army for the Christmas Tree presents appeal. Though, I can see my taking him on some bush walks - why not? Surely, it is better than taking a Python I reckon and besides the 'Generalissimo' will already be 'stuffed' before he starts plodding.

Too, this brought back for me hilarious times spent as a child going with my Old Man to Luna Park in St. Kilda - a rather eclectic inner bayside suburb of Melbourne, noted for its colourful and pseudo-bohemian lifestyle. Though I reckon this lifestyle is being averaged up into ruinous debt by high mortgage payments and atmospheric rents, mixed with the wash of local council regulations and by-laws. Happily, Luna Park, with its huge smiling mouth at its entrance, still operates (mostly on weekends and in school holiday periods) and represents, when I last checked, good value for mayhem. An idea certainly for a future excursion, photo and essay. That is if I ever get off the many wacky rides, including the famous Luna Park 'Mad Mouse'! I see visions of camera being recklessly flung about in profound exertions of 'G' forces on such rides as I try to take an 'I was there' photo.

In closing. I would like again thank everyone for their kind and encouraging words, not only from my recent ailment but also in relation to my erratic photography and essays. At times, I felt a tad overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and feel remiss if I don't immediately respond and I beg your patience in this regard. I am particularly appreciative of the favourting - such confidence is very humbling indeed.

Today, Tuesday, we enjoyed our first truly unadulterated by clouds day. Though still tepid temperature wise, the Sun made an assertion and feeling its warmth upon my rapt skin was a treasure I have missed through this past glum winter. It is not long - the 23rd September - until the Equinox, when the length of daylight exceeds avalon and with that the formal claim of spring. Like Amalari and other Blippers I recognise the seasons by the Solstice and the Equinox, and by what I see, feel and hear.