San Francisco Notebook

20 December 2008

Barry Humphries opens his San Francisco notebook

Hickox, adored by both the Opera Company and the Orchestra of the Sydney Opera, became the victim of two disaffected singers who accused him of nepotism because, in accordance with his contract, he gave a couple of roles to his wife Pamela, who is a fine singer with an international reputation. These chip-on-the-shoulder complaints were taken up by a vindictive philistine in the Melbourne press. There was a chorus of ill-informed pommy-bashing thereafter. The Maestro had made a home for himself, his wife, and his family in Australia, but the vicious attacks had certainly put him under tremendous strain and shaken his health. He has left a legacy of grieving friends and music lovers, and a definitive series of recordings on Chandos. A letter from me in his defence to a Sydney newspaper was unpublished.

Some years ago we spent Christmas in Fiji in the South Seas, on a beautiful island unfortunately infested with black-and-white-striped coral snakes; the most poisonous snakes in the world. Only later did I learn that the island’s romantic Polynesian name meant ‘Isle of the poisonous snakes’.

Undeterred by the herpetology of our abode, Santa paid us his customary visit and, as a recently divorced father, I was eager that my two young sons, Oscar and Rupert, should experience a flawless and traditional Christmas in spite of the exotic setting and the shortage of seasonal stationery in the resort’s gift shop. On Christmas morning, as they unwrapped their pressies from both me and Santa Claus, it was Oscar, prematurely sophisticated as some readers may know, who piped up at breakfast ‘Isn’t it funny, Daddy, that Santa Claus uses the same wrapping paper as you? He must have stopped by the resort shop...’

And to all of those politically correct Americans who beam at me next week and say ‘Happy Holidays’, I will defiantly respond, ‘And a Merry Christmas to you too!’