Gladstone Country Music Festival

“There is no way I’m going to put myself through this again,” I moaned to Long Suffering Wife as we pulled up outside the Entertainment Centre.  As I dragged my guitar from the backseat, she smiled and said, “Good Luck!” then sped off, leaving me and The Littlest Princess standing alone on the footpath. 

Last year, when I was asked to enter the Gladstone Country Music Festival, I recall glibly replying, “Yeah alright.  How bad could it be?”  Six months later it suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea, and now I was toying with beating a hasty retreat to the Grand Hotel. 

But The Littlest Princess gave me a shove, so we entered the theatre foyer where I was shocked to see a fairly large crowd.  My nerves, which were already jittery, started jangling like a four alarm fire bell. 

And the competition was red hot.  After watching several singers, it dawned on me that I was seriously out of my depth.  This did nothing to quell my nerves.  Weeks of practice flew out the window, because thanks to my rising panic, I couldn’t remember any of the chords, or most of the words, to the songs I was allegedly singing.  The barstool at the Grand beckoned once again. 

Then Big James appeared, “Mate,” he said, “I reckon anyone who gets up on that stage is already a winner.”  He was exactly right.  Sure, the barstool at the Grand was an anonymous safe haven from the butt-clenching terror of singing in public, but sooner or later you have to face your fears, so I headed backstage and tried tuning my guitar with fingers that felt like soggy cucumbers. 

The big moment arrived, and donning my Akubra, I clambered onstage.  At this point my father cried out, “Hey!  That’s my hat!” 

I survived, thanks to the quick thinking backing band, and the fantastic support of my country music loving friends, who didn’t appear the least bit upset at the way I had treated some of their favourite songs.  And once my ordeal was over, The Littlest Princess and I spent the rest of the weekend enjoying the festival.  We sang, danced, laughed, cheered, foot-stomped and ‘Yee Ha-ed’, as the contestants gave their all onstage.  It was such a cracking good time that I’m thinking of entering next year’s festival; well, how bad could it be?!

Leave a comment

Filed under Gladstone Observer Columns

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s