THE BOOK LAUNCH THAT NEARLY WASN’T

Due to ‘Covid problems’ I had to find another location for the launch (all of my books have hadphysical launches) for my Autobiography. It is called THE DESERT BOATMAN. For better or worse, that describes my occupation over the past fifty years, particularly when taking into account that camels are often referred to as ships of the desert.   

Due to a number of factors, including that Claire and I are presently ‘homeless’, and the majority of the rest of them down to Covid situations, the organising of this particular Book Launch has been a ‘bag of worms’.  Because I have a lot of great mates, one of them indicated a property north of McLaren Vale near the Onkaparinga Gorge, (incorporating the McLaren Vale Distillery) and said “Do what you like there”. How good is that! So this column describes what we did in these frustrating times… with a brave little group of approximately 100, instead of what would have been at least 400 in normal times.  

I was informed by ‘official sources’, three days before hand that “All private functions are to be cancelled”. Well, good luck to that: after driving around the McLaren Vale district, observing various wineries with capacity crowds, performing most social functions, except cheek-to-cheek dancing!  

So here is what happened on Wednesday January 12, 2022 (2 days after my 80th birthday.)  

The location, under a dense canopy of native trees, was a good setting, the temperature being around 28 degrees. I was concerned that ‘Brownie’, the Willunga butcher, and a man of many talents, had been delayed. But unbeknown to me he had been set up for an hour under a verandah of one of the houses, heating up his pre-cooked snags, but after smelling the unmistakable aroma I got the message that he was in business.  Just trying to organise a disrupted event like this was on a par with organising a 40 day camel trek across the Gibson Desert. However, I had some quality help.  

At precisely 1pm Kelly Manhennet, (ex-Riverland girl, wine-maker and professional singer) opened the entertainment with several of her excellent numbers, accompanied by her guitar. She finished off with a stirring rendition of Hallelluiah. This was followed by Dave Clark and wife, Kate, who had supplied the sound equipment, with a solo and several singles of some of their well-known numbers. True professionals, these two.   

I was momentarily distracted by my youngest grandson, Kale (15), riding past on a toey little grey. He has never had horse riding lessons but looked very much at home, being instructed from behind by its owner, Kevin Mees. On top of everything else, I didn’t need a broken arm to contend with today! Shortly after Kevin Mees arrived on the same horse (its first professional ‘outing’ and launched into the very funny poem Turbulence. He is known as the ‘Bard from the Bush’, coming out of ‘mothballs’ for my Book Launch.  No sooner had he disappeared, than a swagman was seen scuttling between the parked cars and trees, seemingly in fear of his life. Kevin was hastily recalled and, riding bare-back, pursued this poor wretch.  Because there was no Billabong within half a kilometre  the swaggie noticed Kale holding up a large sign with the word BILLABONG and an arrow, and disappeared out of sight in that direction. While this scenario was being enacted, a loud version of Waltzing Matilda came over the loud speakers. If we had been at the original intended location, it would have been a lot more dramatic. There would have been a fair dinkum ‘waterhole’, the oldest in the McLaren Vale area in fact. The swaggy was to have been chased into it by the same ‘Trooper’. His hat would have remained on the surface while he swam about three metres under water, surfacing behind some massive river red gums, out of sight of the crowd. We strive for the maximum effect at these ‘book launches.’ 

The last act was performed by Claire’s daughter, Tina Barry, known in professional circles as Madame Super Trash. She performed two of her own compositions, accompanied by a fellow band member, Matt Harris on the keyboard.  

Precisely at 2 o’clock, peoples’ attention was directed to the adjacent vineyard where three helium balloons took to the sky. Underneath hung a copy of my Autobiography. Due to strict regulations, a certain distance from capital cities, making it illegal for any objects to rise above a given height, it was necessary for this operation to be ‘terminated’. When the book rose to a height of around 200 metres, shots rang out from a Winchester .22 lever action rifle, from somewhere in the vineyard. The balloons kept rising. There followed two blasts from a shotgun, causing 2 of the 3 balloons to disappear. However, the third balloon kept rising at an angle of about 30 degrees for a minute or so, and then to the surprise of many, it began heading back towards the assembled, into a stiff nor-westerly breeze! I overheard one ‘knowing local’ say “That’s bloody funny, its going back into the wind!” Someone else said “Yeah, the gully winds are all over the place around here.” A mate, Bazza, from the Riverland had earlier attached very fine fishing line to the balloons and from behind a pile of rocks had reeled the run-a-way book back to earth. There was a certain sense of relief that we had remained ‘legal’, as these Launches have often pushed the envelope somewhat. 

I have to admit here that the book contained no dialogue, just the spine, front and back covers and was full of air inside. Otherwise we would have needed 3 times as many balloons and transporting 3 from the city to a high backed chair in the McLaren Vale Distillery was an operation in itself. This was one of the few occasions where the book was retrieved in its original condition; even  BB pellet free! 

When the people returned to their chairs under the trees, I told them to prepare for a “dramatic event”. You can’t be too careful these days, and suggested they do what they do to dumb down excitement— be it taking a heart tablet, or sticking their head up their bum. Then there was a sound of a VERY low flying aircraft approaching the gathering. It roared over the treetops and was seen banking away against Hardy’s Scrub and  disappearing into the distance. I think most people thought that was end of it.  However, I knew that the doorless Cessna carried a cargo of 30kg of plain floor (plain, instead of self-raising, because with thunderstorms expected that evening, I didn’t want the remainder of the party getting bogged down in damper the next morning!! No sooner than the sound of the aircraft had disappeared, than a white mist, something like dry snow, filtered down through the trees. It was definitely surreal. You hear of people going grey overnight, but in previous flour bombings, where numerous small paper-bags of flour had been used, I have seen people go white in seconds. Even though, less dramatic, there were many strange and amusing sights of individuals. I saw a man’s brown arm go dirty white and a lady holding a Chalk Hill Shiraz, watched bemused as it turned a khaki-cream colour.   

My massive black-forest birthday cake, insisted upon by my partner Claire, was cut up and handed around earlier in the proceedings. I must make mention here of a dedicated coffee van operator, called Rolland, who took a chance on us and dispensed excellent coffee throughout the proceedings. I would happily recommend him to any event. So the “drastically curtailed launch” was officially over. 

A few campers stayed overnight, including Claire and I. The only dramatic event being at 3am next morning was…. My mate from Victoria, Darren Wallace, camping in the back of his Hilux, was rudely awakened by what he thought was horizontal rain—as thunderstorms were in the region— In actual fact, the automatic sprinklers had gone on in his camping spot and he had to climb out of his swag and turn them off. Such is life!