Dead of Night…

Ah, my husband and I are getting old.

What do you mean, you ask?

We trotted off to Dark Mofo tonight…


that winterfest designed to celebrate the longest nights of winter in Tasmania.



It’s off-the-show stuff, sometimes confronting, filled with dark, fire-driven moments.

Even the ferris wheel turns to the sound of the spookiest, spine chilling choral singing.

It’s amazing art, out-there creations, the bizarre and not so bizarre.


There is the Articulated Intersect light show

Yin Xiuzhen

Dirty ice


Paper bunnies…



A fire eater or two…



Food – my husband had beef bourginon on mash and I had salmon and roasted and  herbed vegetables. We had sinful chocolate éclairs after that. There was cider, beer, whisky, red wine, white wine and elderflower cordial, all grown and produced in my home state. And then there were coffees of a zillion different types, sinful chocolates and macarons.


And people, laughter, activity, lots of hi’s, hello’s, ring ring – where are you’s…

So why then do I say we are getting old?

Well, as I explain to you,

please understand that THIS is what we are used to…

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This is what we thrive on…

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We lined up with thousands of others for our tickets. We stood to eat. We were rather gobsmacked by the deafening sound of people…


We stood and people-watched and event-watched for a couple of hours by which time our backs and legs throbbed and our ears were buzzing.

And while we are glad we went, and think Dark Mofo has given Hobart a beating heart for the previously boring winter days, we came home, took our shoes off, made a cup of tea and stretched out in chairs and on couches like the old fogeys we are.