We left by half past nine bound for Fletcher Jones where a gentleman of about my age, and in possession of the most nauseous bodily odour, took my name and telephone number because the store did not have the ninety-nine dollar sports coat, which was displayed in the window, in my size. We, in turn, visited Kenrays where a young gent talked me into buying a chocolate brown coat at a cost of eighty-five dollars. The coat had been manufactured in Hong Kong.
Tiki entered Belle Star to collect her new dress for next Saturday night, only to be informed that it would not be ready until Friday. She called me in from the seat outside the store to write out a cheque for the outstanding amount of sixty-two dollars and ninety cents. She had previously left a deposit of ten dollars.
We looked around the shops until a quarter past eleven, after which we walked home in drizzle. The sky to the south appeared to be extremely threatening and this made us uncertain as to whether we should undertake a long walk. Tiki washed the dishes while I dried them. Due to the fact that the sun was shining, we departed at half past twelve.
It began to rain almost immediately, forcing us to shelter beneath shops’ awnings, situated on the obtuse corner at the intersection of President Avenue and Wyralla Road. Fortunately, the rain eased after five minutes and we continued our walk, through Gymea and down to Miranda. We could clearly see that it was raining at Cronulla.
Having arrived home at a quarter past one, we watched the rather humorous “Sail A Crooked Ship”. The film, from 1962, stars Robert Wagner, Dolores Hart and Carolyn “The Addams Family” Jones. At half past two, and having forgotten that the replaying of the grand final was to commence earlier than per usual, I concentrated upon the film, “Branded”. Produced in 1950, it stars one of my favourite actors, the late Alan Ladd, in addition to the late Charles Bickford.
At three o’clock, I turned on the radio and learned that St. George was leading by two points to nil. This lead was to be extended to 7-0 by half-time, due to the conversion of a try. St. George undeniably stamped its superiority on the game in the second half and won the match by twenty-two points to nil. It was a disappointing conclusion to such a historic match.
We departed at four o’clock bound for Manly, with Tiki at the wheel. We listened to Frank Hyde’s description of the ceremony, which surrounded the presentation, on 2SM. St. George’s coach, Harry Bath, was understandably jubilant whereas his counterpart, Terry Fearnley, representing Parramatta, in his role, had little to say.
Tiki drove through a part of the crowd of forty-seven thousand, that had attended the Sydney Cricket Ground for the match, on South Dowling Street. As we used the Cahill Expressway we listened to “Sailing”, Rod Stewart’s hit from 1975. During our journey we twice heard Boney M’s “Ma Baker”, a recording that is presently high on the charts for the German vocal group.
We dined at K’s Snapper Inn and walked along The Corso, which is gradually being converted into a plaza. I drove back to the city and en route noticed that the building that housed Pinocchio’s Restaurant — formerly known as the Costa Smeralda — on the corner of Spofforth Street and Military Road, Cremorne, is now a branch of the NSW Building Society.
We paid two dollars to leave the car in a parking station near Her Majesty’s Theatre, which is just a short distance from Railway Square. We entered the theatre by eight o’clock and observed, from above, the arrival of others, prior to occupying our seats in the stalls to witness the performance of the stage musical, “A Chorus Line”. Our seats, which felt hard to the point of being downright uncomfortable, were situated quite close to the stage.
The acting, from the likes of Peta Toppano, Ross Coleman and the extremely tall Pamela Gibbon, could not be faulted, however, as the show had universally received such extraordinarily favourable reviews we expected far more from it than we regrettably obtained. In fact, we felt so deflated by it that we began to harbour the inkling that we might be — how shall I say? — slightly abnormal, for our departure from the theatre was consumed by bewilderment over just what all of the effusive adulation for the show had been based.