01: PORT JACKSON: As I travelled eastward ever eastward towards the rising sun I reviewed the
situation. There had been whispers about the Port Jackson Folk Festival in
Perth, West Australia, rumours about it in Adelaide, South Australia, and a
modest, almost feeble, amount of publicity for it in Melbourne, Victoria.
02: ONLY PLACE IN
TOWN: The Vietnam War, initially greeted with some enthusiasm by Australian politicians
and by a broad section of the deluded populace, had become a running sore and
the conscription of the country's youth to fight in it added salt to the wound.
Enlightenment, slow to come at first, eventually arrived with a roar as the body
count increased.
03: COUNCILS OF WAR: I seemed to be living a triple life. The undergraduate madness of the Abbotsford
Street house was an energising part of it, but the intensity of 'The Place'
drained much of that energy away. The third part of my life, my visits to the
folk clubs, became therapeutic. I enjoyed the music and I valued my anonymous
place in the ranks of an untroubled audience.
04: GOODBYE OLD HOUSE: It was a little after midnight when first year, living out of his college Theology
made his presence felt. He lurched to his feet and banged on the table with the
recycled peanut butter jar that had, until moments before, held the Red Ned that
he now contained.
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'Abbotsford
Street Adventures' from Tales Of A Ten Quid Tourist' By Dermott Ryder, published by The Screw Soapers,
Liverpool, Australia, is published by permission of the copyright owner. Any persons
or organizations wishing to reprint this work, in whole or in part, are invited to
contact the editor. email: screwsoaper@optusnet.com.au

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