Bublé and bedlam in Melbourne (Rock and roll never dies)

We’ve gone from one extreme to another... from the miles of empty roads and no signs of life in Tasmania to bedlam in Melbourne. It is so busy! It’s a shock to the senses going from leisurely cruising around to fighting our way through the crowds. Be careful what you wish for!

We dropped the old girl off at the VW Performance Centre for a three-day spa treatment and beauty package. Meanwhile, Daph and Ern are taking to the public transport system of Melbourne for some city life in the big smoke. Daph noticed Michael Bublé was in town and spontaneously decided that’s what they were doing tonight... but it seemed The Universe wasn’t in favour of Daph’s spontaneity, as everything was so difficult.

We got caught in a freak hailstorm on the way there. Daph had wasted her time blow-drying her hair. Then we almost got crushed to death trying to get on and off the tram with hundreds of other people. The tram driver had complete disregard for any maximum capacity regulations. And then the ridiculously irrational security measures deemed Daph’s handbag more likely to carry a bomb because it was a backpack. This meant we had to cue in the rain to put said bomb package in the cloakroom, whilst the ladies with the handbags that weren’t backpacks (but were large enough to carry a torpedo) could take theirs in. However, we had managed to get fabulous tickets right in front of the stage for silly money. So finally, something was going right. Until...

Oh. My. Gosh!! These Bublé fans are mental! We have never seen anything like it. Designated seating means nothing at a Bublé concert, apparently. And everyone who thinks they might get a chance at five minutes of fame clambers all around the stage hoping to get a high five or a chance to sing with him.

Despite the pandemonium, it was a fabulous show. But we split that joint before the encore, to retrieve Daph’s bomb package from the cloakroom and miss the mass exodus of star-struck giggling fifty-somethings.

***

Another day, another concert. Daph and Ern had a change of pace from Bublé and got their rocks on for Whitesnake and Scorpions tonight, with all the other ageing rockers and their grandkids.

The place was swarming with police and paramedics expecting trouble from the long-haired louts. But they would have been much better placed at the rowdy Bublé concert the night before. These old rockers can just about manage a head bob and a foot tap nowadays. There’s not much ruckus happening at old rock concerts anymore. Long gone are the days of drunken head-banging in the mosh pit. It’s much more mellow. We’d be more inclined to bring cheese and biscuits if it were allowed.

Despite the subdued atmosphere, the classics went off and Daph was at her nostalgic best, singing along at the top of her voice. Uncle Dave of Whitesnake has still got the moves. They all did pretty well, considering they’re old enough to claim a pension. Rock and roll never dies.