The Australian accent is one that is iconic and unique. It is easily recognised throughout the world. The twang in our voices, the lack of clarity, and the commonly used phrase “g’day mate” are all attributed to us. However, I recently noticed something odd about myself. I don’t fit those criteria at all.
With COVID-19 restrictions still limiting local Adelaide venues, music-lovers found themselves watching from their seats as bands took to the stage. In order to welcome audiences in again, Jive and other live music venues must currently keep audiences seated as much as possible.
Perhaps sometime in the future you’ll find yourself sipping an Aperol Spritz on the Amalfi Coast…but for now, let’s see what SA has to offer.
It’s the million-dollar question in our very, very small city of Adelaide. We start a new job, or pursue a new education route, or even move suburb, and in the midst of getting to know another person, you ask or are asked that oh-so-important question: Which school did you go to?
Like many other businesses, their café and restaurant income has decreased significantly due to the pandemic and while the business is adapting as much as it can by teaming up with some customers doing home delivery, supermarket demand has plateaued post Easter.
We are met each evening by a kitchen full of jolly people, gathering for no other reason than a love of food. People-vs-people drama is minimal. Remarks of support, hugs and smiles are in abundance. MasterChef gives us a time and place to be every evening.
Homelessness is a far more complicated issue than ‘poverty’ and the associated range of causes need to be understood before they can each be addressed. It may not be achievable to structure a society so that there is no homelessness, but rather a realistic goal might be to ensure that there are plenty of ways out of homelessness.
F**k conventional thought and understandings around sexuality according to the status-quo. Instead, this show asks that you open your mind to all things kinky, freaky and to instead reserve your judgment for other things – like those among us still grappling with the concept of enthusiastic consent.
One minute, your heart will warm with a story of her struggles through a health condition, the next minute you’re howling with laughter at something unexpectedly crass and totally gutter level. That’s the way comedy should be.
Pussy Riot delivered a frenzied, and very noisy, multi-modal history lesson to a large and curious crowd in The Attic at the RCC on Wednesday night.