The Hobart Chronicles XIX: Summer of Discontent

“In this summer of discontent
nothing but sadness -
no kiss in the morning,
no Friday night madness.”
- Weddings Parties Anything, Manana Manana, 1989

“Goodness, gracious, GREAT balls o’fire!”
- Jerry Lee Lewis, 1957

Wishing you good fortune in the Year of the Pig.

In these dog days of summer the Slobartians revel like mayflies in the sunshine and warmth, knowing it cannot last. Festival season continues unabated.

Some locals complain there’s too many festivals and events, cranky because they can’t visit them all. But for me, there was one missing: there’s been no sign of Chinese New Year, which seems odd for a capital city.

Curiously, there is no visible Chinese population in Slobart, which may explain the absence of festivities. The only Asian grocery shop in the general inner-Slobart area that I have found is Korean, and there is a Hmong community which runs a comprehensive fruit and veg section at the Salamanca Markets, but no plain ol’ (new- or sixth-generation-) Chinese folks and so no restaurant windows hung with glowing red ducks and no dragon-costumed entertainers this time of year.

Maybe there is a pocket of Chinese people hidden in my neighbourhood though. At about 11.30 last night I was rudely woken by a brace of illegal fireworks being set off in a nearby back yard – presumably chasing away someone’s demons along with my sleep.

However, there have been some other pleasant visual distractions, including the Wooden Boat Festival.

Occurring once every two years and aptly named, the city’s docks swarm with wooden craft of all shapes and sizes (and tourists of similar variance) for four days.

I don’t know the first thing about any craft powered by more than a paddle, but they certainly made a pretty picture. Lots, in fact – here are a few.


Maybe there’s no need for the Chinese firecrackers to scare away demons if you have an F-111. As part of the finale to the Wooden Boat Festival and Hobart Regatta, someone apparently organised one of their mates (!) to procure a spare F-111 to do a dump’n’burn over town.

Bugger climate change! Let's burn some avgas! Pity the poor locals who missed the forward news about that one. The sudden roar shattering the balmy Sunday evening could have been anything from US forces to Martians invading Constitution Dock.

I thought the driveway of the master’s residence in the Christian Brothers up the block from my place, which looks high over the hill, would be a good observation point. So did a few other locals.

We lined up with our point’n’shoot technology items to capture the moment, but it was endearing to see everyone so captivated by the roar and the flames that they forgot to point’n’shoot.

Meanwhile, I played with a setting on my p'n's and sat it on a low wall, so when the plane came into view I just pressed the button before standing back to watch the show. Here’s what I got:

One [post-election] day, if the US is again allowed to foist more 'bargain' hardware onto Defence and the trusty old F-111s are replaced, we could always sell them to the Chinese for New Year celebrations. They make a lot more satisfying noise than the firecrackers.