Over the past few days I've been having a bit of a laugh via my community FB page (and the local paper) watching the reactions and responses of people to the latest DA put before the local council for the prospective new business. This business will be in the main street, just at the outskirts of town. The business? A brothel. The proposed building is a three bedroom house in a business zone, and the 'improvements' will be showers and extending the car park at the rear of the building. And you know something? I am totally NOT against it. The neighbouring businesses however, have been squawking and flapping like stepped on chooks. They don't want the type of people it attracts (what? People having sex?). The proprietor of the health food/holistic remedies practise is concerned that a drunk potential patron (there's a pub nearby) will stumble into his premises by mistake because there is a sign offering massage. I pointed out the sign offers alternative therapies such as aromatherapy, and it would be a very dense person who wandered in and believed the house to be a brothel, and only needs to be pointed in the right direction, and a very red-faced punter will skulk out and go to the CORRECT house. Some folk have stated the industrial area of town might be better for location, but I reckon the proposed location is more safe for the patrons and workers, and safety is paramount.
Shit, I'm sick of people. A brothel is a discreet type of business. It doesn't have noise and neon signs flashing: 'GET YOUR NOOKIE HERE!' The patrons entering and leaving are very quiet. A pub in the area is far more disruptive, and I should know. I'm diagonally opposite a pub and often will here some drunken revellers staggering up the hill on their way home.
Also, this is a mining town and for some reason, most of the pubs here advertise skimpies/lingerie waitresses. Oddly, this is something I DO have a problem with. It is tacky and tawdry, and objectifies women, IMHO. However, the ladies have to earn a living, and the pub is entitled to provide this type of entertainment if the licensee so wishes. So in the meantime, we have this sort of sleazy spectacle in the open, but people are getting uptight about consenting adults having sex behind closed doors. Go figure. The mining boom appears to be waning somewhat locally, so I don't know how it will go for the brothel. An actress named Mrs Patrick Campbell, a good friend of Oscar Wilde, was asked to provide a comment on the proclivities of her good friend at the time of his trials. She said she didn't care what people did, 'as long as they don't do it in the street and frighten the horses.' This is a favourite axiom of mine.
Anyway, the House of Ill Fame is going through all the appropriate channels to operate, and it will pay rates etc. If their application is knocked back, they have indicated they will appeal to the Land and Environment Court. You go guys. I hope you win.
What's funny and serendipitous about all this is today I read from the manuscript of my upcoming novel 'Silver Studs and Sabre Teeth' at an Arts & Culture Fair. The chapter I read involves my protagonist, a town planner, attending a massage parlour! I enjoyed the deliciousness of the coincidence, I must say.
The other thing I'm sick of, which isn't so amusing, is the local hospital. No, not the staff. They work so hard. I'm sick of having to go there. I attended a wedding this afternoon, and then my husband rang to tell me his back is locked up. I had to leave the reception and my son travelled with him to the hospital (I'm looking after the younger one and his little friend). I've collected my older son, and I'm waiting to hear from hubby as to whether/'when he can come home. I was also there a few weeks ago when my little one had earache. I was there a few months ago when hubby's back went AWOL. The stress is doing my head in, and making me one miserable little blogger. I know my husband is feeling worse than I am, but I hate seeing him in pain, and I hate the extra strain on me. What I am, is proud. Proud of our older son who was an invaluable help getting his dad to the car etc.
Oh, the wedding was very nice. Very casual. My former case manager married her long time de facto. The adult children of her first wedding made a speech, and told him they loved him and he has been like a dad to them. The big boofy guy got out his handkerchief and wiped away tears. So did I. Oh, bless.
And speaking of weddings, yesterday Mr Bingells and I celebrated fifteen years of wedded bliss. Yes, at the moment there has been more sickness than health, but here's hoping it changes soon.
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