ANZAC day is synonymous with a piss up. Not gonna lie, it’s one of those days where everyone dedicates the day to going out to pubs everywhere in Aus, and having a drink and a game of Two up. which if you are unfamiliar with, and couldn’t be arsed to click the link is outlined on Wikipedia as such
“Two-up is a traditional Australian gambling game, involving a designated ‘Spinner’ throwing two or three coins into the air. Players gamble on whether the coins will fall with both (obverse) heads up, both (reverse) tails up, or with one coin a head, and one a tail (known as ‘Odds’). It is traditionally played on Anzac Day in pubs and clubs throughout Australia, in part to mark a shared experience with Diggers through the ages.”
Every year I have a punt, not usually too good at it, but this year I won more than I lost, so I cant complain. Mr.P won, as he usually does, as he is one Lucky Bastard. I won about $25 on top of the $10 I left the house with, which in my opinion is a pretty good thing. If you’re a Pub without the game, on Anzac day, you can guarantee you’ll be pretty quiet, if not dead.
But the thing that struck me most, and you may berate me for pointing out the obvious, as we did go to Newtown was the terrible and sudden sensation that the place was being over run by Vogue reading, fashion victims. Maybe it was because of all the Sailors in uniform that were hanging around, bringing out the ladies dressed to kill, as though they intended to go clubbing. Those sailors who had found their way to this part of town, which seems to be, becoming more and more of “the place to go” , were brave enough to fight in wars…and therefore logically, brave enough to venture forth in King Street and worthy of potenitally “bagging” to a young lass of her own fortune. I am not sure if any of them were gay guys.. but I felt for the young lads, who one by one were accosted by Cougars, everywhere I cared to look. The worst of the Fashion victims, who I sorely wish Id managed to snap a picture of, with my covert picture taking ways, were dressed in American flag themed tshirts, 5″ heels and leggings. If that doesn’t scream, ‘I have no idea about Anzac day, itsjustanotherexcuse to dress up’ day, I don’t know what does.
We sat just inside the door to The Bank hotel and watched the fools on parade. Perhaps my cynical mind was the only one thinking about these things. It was a mock and jest thought pattern. All the cool kids were on show today.
Dont get me wrong, I lived in Newtown for over 5 years. I feel I’m within my rights to comment on just how much I feel it’s changed in the past 2 years. I love it’s diversity, and how, you can get away with wearing your jim jams up to the shops should you so desire… well, you used to.. not sure about now. Now it’s almost as if I have a sense of patriotism for the place… it is after all a part of my history and I for some reason feel offended by the invasion of hipsters and fashionistas, in a place where it used to be a haven and safe-place, for goths, punks and rockabilly kids. Now, If you go there on the weekend, you’re guaranteed a string of fluro pink tshirt wearing justin beiber haircut boys who were raised by a wet nurse and only just left her side to come out for the night. or…This could just be me, getting old.
If you go out on the weekend and try to get into a once, shit hole of a pub ( which frankly was it’s charm) you’re likely to be stopped at the door by some roided up meat head who wants to ask you a string of questions about why you should be allowed in. As if you couldn’t just walk on up to the next venue. I get it.. Newtown is cool. But it’s like one of those places you wish had been kept on the low down.. not for people from Mosman, Campbelltown or the Northern Beaches to come over and trample on. Call me suburbist if you like. Lament.