A Good Laugh

When Rickyralph visited last January he brought a few books with him that he thought I might like to read. I'm about 50 pages into Bill Bryson's 'Down Under' and I'm finding it humourous, as Ralphie said I would. It was published in 2000. Bryson, an American, talks about his experiences visiting Australia, and his research into its history, culture and customs. He doesn't hide his admiration for the uniqueness of our flora and fauna, the harshness of our geography, and the contrasts and oddities. He brings a comedic tone while giving so much information at the same time. Most entertaining. I've lived here for almost seventy years, did Australian history at school, and have traveled quite widely, yet I feel almost like it's new to me because he has a different slant on so much, from our discovery, settlement and exploration to our development to wealthy nation. From the first penal colony, established where Circular Quay now stands, to modern Sydney with skyscrapers looking out to the opera house across the harbour, the two sides connected by a massive steel arched bridge, in not much more than a couple of hundred years.

What's prompted this post was a paragraph relating to the Sydney Opera House. I'm not permitted to copy from the book (copyright law) so I'll tell you by my recollection. The concept of the Opera House was pushed by a chap called Sir Eugene Goossens, who was then the head of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. A competition was held to find a suitable design but after assessing many entries no winner was decided. A famous American architect was consulted to choose a winner. He sifted through all the entries and selected one by Danish designer Jorn Utzon that had been previously discarded by the judges. 

It took 15 years to build. It cost 14 times the initial estimate. When the book was written, 2000,  Utzon had never seen the finished product. He was sacked from the project in 1966 when a change of NSW government came at election.

Curiously, Goossens never saw the finished product either. He was discovered, in 1956 at Sydney airport while passing through customs, with a large quantity of pornographic material and was invited to take his sleezy continental habits elsewhere. He was, in one of life's small ironies, unable to enjoy, Bryson says, his own finest erection.

You do have to laugh.