I went to see “Darling, It’s Noel”, a production at His Majesty’s Theatre, Perth, about Noel Coward’s visit to Australia in November 1940.
Darling, It’s Noel teams up two great Australian talents, Amanda Muggleton and Dennis Olsen, in an evening of witty songs and repartee as only Coward could produce. Writer/director Rodney Fisher has used Coward’s visit to Australia, during which he raised more than 12 thousand pounds for the Red Cross, as the basis for this comic evening. The Australian Government of the time lauded Coward as their guest (although he’d paid his own way) and crowds of people gathered to see and hear him. Famous for his risque plays and double-entendre wit, not to mention his sage advice (“don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs Worthington”), he was a man who could raise a laugh with ease.
The production told us a little about his war time efforts, including some specific references to performances in Perth, but was probably nothing more than a vehicle for his wonderful songs. Amanda Muggleton’s performance of “Mad About The Boy” was truly moving, while Dennis Olsen played Coward as a more homespun character than the sophisticate of his witty repartee would suggest.
We were given, however, little sense of Coward the poof which is implicit in so much of his work. It was clearly, therefore, aimed at the “Morning Melodies” market – on one side I had a man who fell asleep within 10 minutes and on the other a blind mind who was given descriptions of what was occuring – and I was clearly the youngest person in the theatre.
I love all the parkland in Canberra. I love the fact that, as I walked to the Dickson Shops to grab a bite to eat, I could walk through stands of gum trees. You’re still in the middle of Australia’s capital city, and to an extent, you can still feel like you’re in the bush.
Even though I had planned to catch up with a friend tonight, I piked, citing tiredness. We chatted on the phone for a while, nonetheless.
The other thing I’ve discovered today is that I’ve become a somewhat complacent traveller. A trip to Canberra? No worries, throw a few things in the bag and she’ll be right? Wrong! Although I took several types of skin protection and conditioner with me, I didn’t bring any toothpaste, and thus bought a $1 tube from reception downstairs this morning. That’s two teeth cleans! And although I brought a suit with me in addition to casual clothes, I only actually brought the one shirt I was wearing with me. It’s currently in the bathroom hanging up, and I’m hoping it will be dry by tomorrow morning.
So yes, that’s my second glamorous night in Canberra. Doing some handwashing and feeling physically and mentally tired. The radio still doesn’t work, and there’s not much on the television aside from “Big Love”. I’m guessing some type surfing the web will be in order.
I haven’t actually been “into Canberra” since arriving. My plan for the morning though is to get up early, go for a walk, check out the lake etc, before catching the bus tomorrow.
Graeme – if you’re reading this… I’m unlikely to make the pub tomorrow.
Corner of Northbourne and Morphett, Dickson, Canberra
We’re currently doing some areas of grammar which, frankly, I struggle with in English.
Well, I don’t struggle with it, as I know this stuff inside and out, in both the written and oral formations.
But of course, I’m part of the experimental generation where grammar wasn’t emphasised. So the challenge is identifying what grammatical formation is in play, and then determining the Swedish variations.
Anyway, it was still fun, as always. And I got a “mycket bra” (“very good”) for my homework from last week.
My text book, Svenska Utifran
Wearing glasses for the first time is also a bit tough at the moment.
When I put them on, everything is clear. And in the office I’m able to move easily between close up work on the computer, reading, and having face-to-face conversations. Walking, however, remains a bit of a challenge.
Still, I wore them as much as I possibly could today. And I’m trying to walk around in them as much as possible to get my brain to understand what it needs to recognise.
Work was pretty good, though, as I achieved a fair bit.
And I caught up for a coffee with my retired former boss, which is always a good thing.
And I’ve booked some tickets for a forthcoming dinner put on by the Historic Houses Trust.
Colonial gastronomer, Jacqui Newling, and Elizabeth Bay House curator, Scott Carlin have consulted historic recipe books by Antonin Careme (1817), Dr William Kitchiner (1829), Eliza Acton (1845), Edward Abbott (1864) and Isabella Beeton (1859) to create a menu that both reflects 18th-19th century dining and the flavours of the spice trade.
Guests will have a unique opportunity to take their first course by candlelight in the dining room at Elizabeth Bay House, overlooking Sydney Harbour with later courses in the magnificent domed central stair hall or saloon. Guest will be shown the secrets of spices and be treated to gentle atmospheric music of the sitar.
Sounds great, eh?
So even though there were some tough parts of Tuesday, there were some good things also.
Forty years later, memories flooded back to me today of the trepidation I felt as I stepped into the office of Jim Brigginshaw, the Editor of Lismore’s daily newspaper, “The Northern Star,” Accompanied by three fellow students, who are still good friends, we interviewed him for a school project about “the media” in about 1982. That’s me on the canera.
This teenage anxiety stemmed from the strong editorial stance he and the newspaper took against homosexuality. This unfolded during the months preceding the decriminalization of homosexuality in NSW, a period when men could face imprisonment for up to 14 years. At that time, I was volunteering at the local community radio station, which hosted the weekly show “Gaywaves,” co-hosted by Vera Bourne, the mother of a school mate, and Mike Bray, co-owner of the local gay restaurant, “Double Dutch”.
My memories of the strength of the newspaper editorials and articles had almost completely faded over the decades until today visiting an exhibition spotlighting the history of “Tropical Fruits,” the nationally renowned LGBTQIA+ group based in Lismore.
It was wonderful to chat with the exhibition’s curator about my memories of life in Lismore as a teenage gay boy. Despite a notable presence of gays and lesbians in my school year, I was the only one who openly identified as such during that period.
The exhibition, though marred by the 2022 catastrophic flood that impacted the organizational headquarters and resulted in the loss of much physical history, serves as a testament to the group. Despite the sometimes grim subject matter, there are some wonderful memories of strength, resilience, and a growing community
A decade after the anti-homosexual campaign in Lismore, I found myself in another country town, Wagga Wagga, where the local newspaper, “The Daily Advertiser,” echoed a similar sentiment. The editor at the time, Michael McCormack, later ascended to the position of Deputy Prime Minister as the leader of the National Party, and recently expressing regret for the newspaper’s divisive campaign at the time.
Even though “The Northern Star” is now owned by News Corporation which generally has an anti-progressive editorial stance, they no longer run anti-gay editorials, and celebrate the annual influx of people for “Tropical Fruits”.
Meanwhile…
There is another gay-themed exhibition in Lismore, just around the corner in Magellan Street, focussing on the works of a Melbourne duo called The Huxleys.
For the second week in a row, I left early from our regular Wednesday Night Drinks, which Graeme has blogged abot.
I haven’t been sleeping well for the past week or so, and so was really quite tired.
I’m not sure why I’m not sleeping well, except to say I’m often waking up in the middle of the night and finding it difficult to get back to sleep.
There’s nothing particularly on my mind that’s worrying me.
And, aside from my usual range of social functions, I’m not especially burning the candle at both ends.
I’m arriving at work at a reasonable hour, and leaving at a reasonable hour.
I suspect it may be due to a general ill-health.
Unfortunately after all the weight I lost last year, I seem to be putting it back on.
I’m not as overweight as I was this time last year, but I definitely have put a few kilograms back on, as the bathroom scales will attest.
So my plan for the next few weeks is to keep a closer eye on what I eat, drink less, and to get some exercise. I’m sure if I do that, my weight will come back under control, and I’ll sleep a little better.
In other news, there seems to be widespread support amongst my friend my new glasses look pretty good. So even though I might have stacked on a few kilograms, the glasses have “taken off a few years” according to most.
Everyone you ask in Sydney tells you they’re sick to death of all the rain. After a record-breaking August that saw over 368mm of rain—more than four times the monthly average—and only eight dry days, everyone has been desperate for some sunshine. The relentless downpours put us on track for the third-wettest August in history, a truly remarkable and unseasonable event for what is typically our fourth-driest month.
Finally, the rain gave way this weekend. Yesterday was sunny, and today it was sunny-ish. I seized the chance to get out and about, meeting up with a group of friends for our “First Sunday Roast Club,” an informal tradition where we aim for a roast lunch once a month. This time, we picked a restaurant in Bondi called Rocker. The food was great, and the service was quick and friendly. Highly recommended. The roast pork was excellent, and the conversation and wine were even better
Roast Pork at Rocker, North Bondi
Afterward, we walked down to Bondi Beach. It was a bit overcast by then, but not raining. For me, walking on the sand has been a challenge since my amputation a couple of years ago, but today was different. Taking it slowly and having a friend close by for support, I made it all the way down to the water’s edge. It was a wonderful, a truly triumphant feeling to walk along the beach again. We finished the day with some delights from Riverina Gelato, which was the perfect sweet ending.
Down by the ocean at North Bondi
The evening brought a few more friendly encounters. I helped a colleague settle into her hotel room, which included a few computer lessons on a machine I’ve loaned to her.
Arriving home, a neighbor texted to ask if I’d seen their cat, Biscuit, who often wanders around our block. They told me they’d attached an AirTag to his collar so they could keep tabs on him. Biscuit was lounging comfortably in my lounge room chair – a clear sign that the tracking device was working perfectly. Then, another neighbor knocked on my door. Her friend had recently had surgery and needed a wheelchair, and she wanted to know if she could borrow mine. Of course, I said yes, since I haven’t used it for a quite a while. It felt great to be able to help out and contribute in that way. Hopefully I won’t need it myself over the next couple of weeks!
After such a long, wet month, it was a day to truly be grateful for.
“I realise now how people can get addicted to painkillers”, I said to a friend the other day.
Ever since my surgery the other week, I’ve been using some pain relief on and off. “They’ve given you the good ones”, Michelle said to me the other week when she noted the prescribed drugs. The first time I used them, I probably “double-dosed” and had a fairly trippy night. Since then, I’ve arrived at the right balance, I think.
I haven’t used them much, but I have used them. And I’ve come to realise how addictive they can be. You feel a bit of pain. You take one, and pretty soon you feel so much better.
I’m a bit of a “North Coast hippy” when it comes to drugs, always thinking it’s better for your body to heal itself. If I get sick, I usually think it’s better to go to bed for a while, and rest up.
But when the doctor told me the other day he didn’t want to remove the stitches, and keep them in for a further ten days, my heart sunk. I felt quite sad, and my almost instant response was to go home, take a pill, and sleep. Although the doctor told me the wound was healing well, he was worried that if he removed the stitches, the wound might open up again, and we would have to start from scratch. So I’m back to buying and applying bandages.
It’s been a week of visits to the chemist and to the doctor, as I also had my booster shot this week.
Hey that’s what happens when you’re 56 years old.
But I have managed to get out and about this week, with a visit to the cricket today, and a visit to the movies earlier in the week.
VISIT TO THE MOVIES – SWAN SONG
There was a moment this week at my local pub when a very attractive young man kept staring at me. He was part of what looked to be a group of straight men who had just been to the cricket. And then I heard one of them say how hot Toby Maguire was. Maybe they were a mixed group? Or maybe they were a group of gays?
Though there is the inbaked “gaydar” which is genuinely a good rule of thumb, there are times when you just don’t know and I guess that’s what happened this week, I guess.
When a colleague recently mentioned a mutual friend is gay, I was genuinely surprised. In the last couple of years, another colleague was genuinely surprised to learn I was gay. Times have changed, and yet in some ways they remain the same. Members of our community have always been looking out to connect with others. I don’t mean that in a sexual way. I meant that in terms of friendship and connection. That’s the context for the movie I went to see, “Swan Song” which is the story of an older gay man (now living in a nursing home) revisiting his youth.
A couple of times throughout the movie, I thought of a good friend, no longer with us. In some ways, there were parralels with him, also being the small town gay hero. Towards the end of his life he lived with dementia, and there are moments in the film when it seems like the lead actor is living with this also. “It was like a family to me” he says, at one point about the gay be he revisits. I’m pretty sure my friend said similar things about the places of his youth, also.
Too often now, I go to gay bars and people are always on their phones, never looking around the room. I’m at that point of my life where I’m not looking for a hook-up. But when you look around, it’s a bit disheartening. But I guess I’m just as guilty of not wanting to chat either. There’s a guy at my local pub who is always looking for a chat. “I’m not looking to pick you up”, he says. The problem is that all the conversations we’ve had have been boring, and he’s always a bit pissed when he comes over to chat. I guess that’s one of the problems with bars. Alcohol.
The movie is tremendous, and I would highly recommend it. I laughed and cried.
A DAY AT THE CRICKET
When I woke this morning, I felt an instant desire to head off to the cricket. The fact I got the offer of a free ticket didn’t dissuade me.
So, with fine weather, and one stop on the tram, I was there.
It wasn’t long until I remembered why I quite like going to the cricket. The sheer relaxation of it all.
There weren’t many people wearing masks at the cricket today. “The rules don’t require masks outdoors, and many people will be frequently drinking or snacking while watching, so that’s not at all surprising.” a friend commented to my post on Instagram. “There’s rules and there’s common sense”, I replied.
