Day 38 – Zetland Hotel, (formerly known as The Green Park Hotel, formerly known as the Zetland Hotel)
Definitely more ‘Give me a home among the gum-trees’ than, ‘If you’re blue and you don’t know where to go to.’ The Zetland’s a nice little art deco Aussie pub in a rapidly gentrifying area. It’s up the road from the cunningly-named Green Park train station (good luck finding the park) and for a while was known as the Green Park hotel, but thankfully that nonsense has passed and it’s reverted to its original title – the Zetland.
I played there numerous times in the early 90’s (see photos) and it wasn’t a lovely place. We weren’t playing lovely music so I guess we were a good fit, but I must say as a former rocker (or, rock-dance-groove-popper) it’s disheartening to revisit old haunts and find the band rooms all converted into pokie dens (poker machines, for my American friends) or bistros. That’s twice it’s happened to me now. Where do bands play these days? Are there still bands playing in pubs in Sydney? It was hard enough 20 years ago (Gosh! Was it really that long ago??) to find venues that would take you (forget about being paid). I’m too old to care now. I’ve got other interests, but it’s sad isn’t it?
I sat there nevertheless and dutifully worked away occasionally looking up and remembering the “glory days” (and don’t the words of that Springsteen classic ring true now? Except for the bit about my husband running out on me and leaving me with three kids.) My chicken burger was nice. The bossa nova (I kid you not) playing through the piped music was nice enough, though odd, and Roger Spoffin flowed freely. But deep inside me, I knew something was hurting.
I left the Zetland. There’s nothing for me there now. If there’d been a screen door, I’d have let it slam behind me.
Today’s word count: 2787
Word count to date: 125,177