Blues

I commenced my second day in Melbourne with zucchini fritters at Axil Coffee Roasters in Hawthorn, served by a gloomy hipster who, at least in my imagination, resented having to work to afford small batch ciders and beard oil.


In the evening, I went to an acoustic session at the Clifton Hill Hotel, where gentlemen musicians with an average age of 87 performed blues, roots, folk and alt-country tunes with the great ease and skill that comes from practicing every day since the Boer War. I’m pretty sure that I was the only person there younger than 50, except for the bar staff, who were all younger than the internet.


Hipster and Grey were similarly enthralled.





Although that may have had something to do with the booze.