Prison and Shakespeare...

19/02/09

I eat my breakfast this morning staring at a little honey-eater on the Grevillea bush. It is a little like a starling but has a hooked beak. Toast eaten, I head into Hobart with Trina, who drops me off near the prison. Hobart Gaol is smaller than Fremantle, but just as proud and just as interesting. They try to explain the broad arrow convict mark; it is a mark meaning that whatever it is on belongs to the British Government and it is found all over the place – sometimes the bricks in the walls even have them on.
Old Hobart Gaol was huge, it stretched for a couple of blocks over some streets which didn’t exist to begin with. The architecture was interesting, especially in the Chapel. There were 1500 seats in tiered rows so that the three wings of convicts (and later free settlers) could all see the same preacher. However, this chapel was never consecrated as a church because of the hell beneath, which was later deemed inhumane. The solitary cells were below the tiered seating. The Dust Room, was a mere 70cm high, barely high enough for a man to crawl in on his belly, the next up was only high enough for hands and knees, and the other ones still fairly short.
The prison was here until 1963, when most of it was bulldozed and sadly the records and balls and chains were thrown down a well, which is now several metres under street level and essentially completely lost, which I find very sad, especially as Hobart Gaol now prides itself on being a source of records for genealogists. The chapel became courtrooms and offices, much of it before the general demolition. There were tunnels built beneath the courtrooms so that the prisoners could be brought in without being taken along the streets. These tunnels are worn away in certain places; you can see where the prisoners would have been scrubbing their feet nervously, in silence as they waited for their turn beneath the courtroom. The grooves and footprints are worse beneath the Supreme Court. This is where the murderers and rapists would have waited. The sentence would have been more often than not, execution. Execution would have been quick and nearby. It was carried out by a man called Solomon Blay. He was the state executioner for Tasmania and travelled around. He was not terribly popular as he had once been a convict, but was allowed to become executioner as a kind of freedom for good behaviour. He died in the north of Tasmania. He is buried in a pauper’s grave.
Other things of note within the Gaol were the padded cells (wooden walls, nice beds, attention on tap and straw all over the walls) for prisoners who needed a little more TLC and the Governor’s cottage. He and his family were into the arts and even once entertained Lawrence Olivier in their little bathroomless house.

After coming out of the Gaol, I toodle off to the museum. Given that I am feeling generally horrible, for reasons the girls reading this will understand, I didn’t get very far around it, but as it is free I managed to see the things was interested in, which was Thylacines, or Tasmanian Tigers. The last one died, ironically, in London Zoo in the 1920s. It was a male and they have footage of him sitting around and jumping about. There is no proof that Thylacines are extinct, but they are believed to be, since none have been sighted recently. Seeing one would be rather like seeing the Beast of Bodmin.

Following the museum, Trina and I head to Margate. We go to Meredith’s for fresh fruit and honey and then off to have pancakes on the train! Trina has a Spider (Raspberry soda and vanilla ice cream) and I have pancakes with heavenly ice-cream. The pancakes are wonderful – again, I say, Tassies know and love their food! Pancakes and soda in the sun are an excellent plan, served nicely and with good humour.
Yum.

We prepare then for a picnic and Shakespeare’s Midsumer Night’s Dream in the Botanical Gardens. I make couscous salad and we all pile into the car with rugs, jumpers and food to head down to get tickets. We meet Trina’s other friend Naomi, and we find a spot for our rugs. The play is amazingly good. Titania is all in gold lame with crazy 80s hair, blue cape and big boots; Oberon is all blue and bearing weapons, Bottom is suitably revolting and the fairies are all freakish, cloaked, white-faced, squeaking creatures. All the rustics are perfect and the lovers are all delightfully well-played. The girls simper and scream well, and the lads spar and throw wit at each other with perfect comic timing. A kookaburra laughs at just the right moment; so well-timed it could almost have been trained! I think it helps that both the male lovers are quite happy to get partially naked on the stage; at which point we see that the most floppy-haired is sporting fishnets and a waspie! This is a perfect Rocky Horror Show moment, which I thoroughly enjoy.
The best part, though, is Puck – he is lithe, wiry and nimble, with an angular face and elfin features. His large eyes are blue and his frizzled hair is dark. His movements are catlike; his form slim and electric. He also plays the part with perfect humour and energy, witty minion to Oberon’s booming power. His first appearance is while dropping out of a tree in a loincloth. Trina and I both agree that he is ‘pretty’…
*moment of potential drool*
He is also very likely gay.
Sigh.
We laugh a lot, enjoy the wit and well-rounded acting, and make our way home, in the evening darkness, happy and sleepy.

;)