Joan Baez chooses diamonds.

Mum and I went to see Joan Baez in concert last Monday night. I had bought tickets for Mum’s birthday, which was very nice of me in theory, but fairly amusing in reality when you think about the money that mum has given me over the years and even very recently when I needed it.  Stupid money I loathe and despise it. But I need it. DAMN IT. I suppose it is the thought that counts.

Anyway I met Mum after work and we had dinner at a Turkish restaurant in South Bank. In keeping with the moderately geriatric theme of the evening, we had dinner at 5.30pm. The Russian waiter was a little incredulous when we told him, oh no, we have plenty of time, the show doesn’t start til 8pm! My mother doesn’t like being late for things, and fair enough I say.

We ordered a huge carb and protein heavy platter for two that consisted of practically a whole loaf of bread and dips, twenty thousand lamp chops and kofta. We then proceeded to discover we were not equal to this gargantuan meal. I was feeling uncomfortable and overfull which is not a good thing when you have a late night at a rock concert* ahead of you. My eyes are notoriously too big for my tummy, and my tummy is pretty big so that is saying something.

As you can imagine, we ambled over to the performing arts centre with plenty of time. In fact we had to wait around for quite a while in the foyer, watching the other audience members arrive. It probably comes as no surprise that I lowered the demographic considerably, the average age making Mum look like a veritable spring chicken. There was a proliferation of Comfortable Shoes, with a trend towards the Walking Sandal or Smart Sneaker, and there were even numerous fans arriving in their wheelchairs. Mum remarked that it wouldn’t be long before we saw someone turn up in a hospital gurney attached to a drip.

I hasten to add that it didn’t bother me in the slightest - I mean, the last time I had been to see a show at QPAC was when I attended amatinee of the opera Carmen with my aunt and members of her University of the Third Age posse. Because I came straight from work I realised I had even worn the same outfit as I did on that occasion. I am so glamorous. But seriously, I am anything if ageist and frankly my tastes often run to the more mature anyway. Just check out my husband! I KID I KID!

Being early to find our seats meant we had to stand up while others in our row shuffled by, including one older lady who, as she squeezed past, exclaimed, “Why, you’re very YOUNG!”. As she moved towards her place, she spied another young-ish man and shouted “And YOU are very young TOO!!”

We looked apologetically at each other.

I mean what could we do? I’m not that young really. I can like Joan Baez. So sue me.

Pretty funny to see that Woodstock brigade getting about as senior citizens these days. Hahahaaa.

Anyway Joan was really fantastic. She looks amazing. She is really beautiful and gets about with a close cropped grey hairdo that I hope to emulate one day. I found the concert very soothing at a time in my life that I am finding very stressful.

Also she is a reminder we need to get our activist on a bit more. She is a true believer.

 

 

 

 

My sister-in-law was at the concert too, but I didn’t get to see her, because Joan, the trooper that she is, powered on for a whole 2 hours or so without a break.

 She sang all the old favourites like “The night they drove old Dixie down”, and that sort of bittersweet song she wrote about Bob Dylan, “Diamonds and Rust”.

Instead of singing this angst ridden final line;

And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid

She offered up her own lighthearted, updated version, and sang;

And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I choose diamonds

And quite right too. So would I.

 *geriatric folk music concert