It was a day to remember when the '60s arrived at a West Coast school fete, writes Alan Beck.
The year was 1968, South Island the location, the date is lost in the mists of time. It's fete day. Our West Coast state school is open to the public. Stalls are set up to sell things.
For a fee, French students will illustrate the beheading of customers with a cardboard guillotine, the proceeds going towards a trip to Noumea.
In the rooms, people come and go, putting up signs to various shows. "Dry ice. Chemistry Lab. Only the ice smokes. Don't touch Bunsen,'' says one. Biology offers "Galvanised Frogs' Legs'' and history has the very silly "Rally. Walter Raleigh''.
There is firewood for 20 cents: failed woodwork projects, dismantled by the irate teacher.
Our installation, to represent modern art, pop culture and the "satire boom'', had no relevance at all to New Zealand.
It comprised a huge painted canvas of Lord Kitchener and original cartoon of Queen Elizabeth saying "Philip, that horse is Norman. Sack it''.
There was a long box containing a Bell telephone, some op/pop art, and an organic collage titled Noodles, achieved by glueing uncooked noodles to Croxley.
The prefab room was lit by green to orange bulbs and we had sound: a gramophone playing Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, continuously.
There was also a man reading the weather forecast for Exodus: "Egypt, expect boils''.
People paid actual money to view.
It was unseemly to startle them with a telephone ringing in a coffin, but that was "dadaesque''.
The Royal cartoon was ordered a paint-over.
Post-show party: biscuits, coffee and Joan Baez records. It was 1968. At least we weren't revolting.
• Alan Beck is a former reader of radio advertising copy.
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