| Since the beginning of the year, I had become firm friends with a fantastic singer/actress, Joanna Rowlands, who was at a loose end when I played some of my songs to her one evening. She proposed that we head off to the annual Grahamstown Arts Festival and busk. I took leave, loaded up the trusty Datsun 1400 bakkie and off we went. The 19th Century Settlers' town was bitterly cold, but we were lucky enough to find a room in a commune (bearing in mind that the tiny town is crammed to capacity over the festival) and, fortified by a morning health regimen consisting of eating whole cloves of garlic washed down by Tassies red wine, we avoided the flu that had people dropping like flies all around us. Busking on the Village Green, we made enough money for more garlic and red wine as well as beer, whiskey, pizza and other basic necessities. At the invitation of Soli Philander, we did a guest spot on his Rosie September stand-up drag/comedy show. After a week of hard partying and playing, we had amassed enough chutzpah, contacts and cash to stage a small variety show at the George Hotel. The lineup included Jo & I, Soli as Rosie September, the indefatigible drag singer Terry and comedian/poet/playwright Ian Faser. It was a very minor triumph. I returned to Jo'burg with Jo and Soli, reeling from the sheer fun of it all. A seed had been planted - I had a notion that showbiz was indeed the only life for me. I would be proved wrong - repeatedly - but, as they say, at the time it seemed like a good idea ... |
