It’s Sunday night and I’m half watching a program on ABC television called “Who Wrote The Bible”. After watching thirty or forty episodes of “Frasier” in a row, it’s a welcome break.
That said, I do like “Frasier”. In fact, since subscribing to Foxtel, I’ve discovered programs like “Just Shoot Me”, “Will & Grace” and more recently, “Frasier”, are actually quite good. Ignored the first time around, these are now programs which I truly look forward to seeing on the schedule and can watch for several hours at a time. All of that said, I’m not sure if I could ever develop an interest in “Friends”.
Aside from television watching it’s been a reasonably quiet Easter. The weather’s been great, I’ve only had a couple of work-related phone calls, and I haven’t wandered too far from home, so I feel reasonably rested.
On Friday afternoon, however, Kate and I went to the Royal Easter Show. Although I’d been to the show earlier in the week, Kate was on her way to see her son Tom (a member of the band, Combat Wombat) play at a nearby music festival, I agreed to come along to fill in a few hours with her. Actually, three hours was probably enough to wander around, check out the livestock, see the district exhibits and to eat some yummy food (including a snow cone and a vegetarian pizza made by members of “The Community”).
I’ve seen “The Community” at the Easter Show before, and apparently they also regularly appear at folk festivals too. As you watch them making, baking and serving pizzas and barramundu burgers, you can’t help but wonder who or what they are. Although they have a brochure which you can take away, it doesn’t really tell you all that much. So I hopped online to discover they’re a socially conservative Christian community (though Christ is referred to as “Yashua” the Hebrew name), and they refer to themselves as “The Twelve Tribes”.
All of the men grow beards “because men were created with facial hair” and all of the women wear head scarves and modest clothing “because of their desire to be modest”. Clothing shouldn’t matter, but it obviously does in helping with the identification (including self-identification) of various religious communities. For that reason, I wonder why so many Christian communities have found themselves stuck in the lifestyle and clothing of the nineteenth century? Is it because that period of time has often marked the formation of those communities? Is it because that period marks the time before “the modern world”? I wonder if, in 100 years time, members of modern Christian communities will be dressing as they do now…?
Chatting with a friend down the street this morning, and we were trying to remember the last time Crown Street was closed to traffic for an event. We concluded it was sometime in the early 2000s. It was before the Surry Hills Festival moved to Ward Park and the Shannon Reserve. There was a time when Crown Street was closed off for the festival, there were bands and DJs playing, and you could even dance in the street. Fond memories.
There was no dancing on the street today, but Crown Street (between Cleveland and Foveux) was closed off. There were lots of outdoor eateries, a few market stalls, and there were lots and lots of people, enjoying the festivities.
I was a little surprised at how many people there were. Even though I try to keep up to date with local activities, I didn’t know anything about the City of Sydney “Summer Streets” festivities until I saw the road closure signs. And I wasn’t really aware of how big it was going to be until I saw people setting things up this morning.
Despite lots of signs of social distancing, it was pretty crowded. So I kept my face mask on while I was walking around.
There was such a good vibe. I hope this becomes a regular thing
Having lived in Surry Hills for almost eighteen years, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to have “normal shops”. Surry Hills is littered with restaurants, gourmet grocers, architects and the like. But if you needed to buy some fabric to knock up a frock (theoretically speaking), I think you would have to look further afield.
In stark contrast, Cabramatta has a much greater variety of shops, and that’s something which really stood out today when I visited there and participated in the I Ate My Way Through Cabramatta Walking Tour. “The shopping’s great here”, I thought to myself, noticing not only the variety, but also the high level of competition leading to good prices, and a general good “vibe”.
I’ve never been to Cabramatta before, simply because it’s about 50 minutes on the train from Central. Two more stops and you’re at Liverpool (which I also visited today for another reason). But I’d heard good things about the food, and so when I saw an ad a few months ago for the walking/eating tour, I quickly booked.
Cabramatta
As soon as you get off the train, the first thing you notice is the high number of Australians from a Vietnamese background who live there. Living around Central Sydney, I’m very accustomed to (and love) being in a highly concentrated multi-cultural environment but at Cabramatta it’s taken to a whole new level, Even though there are some Anglo faces in the crowd, and quite a few people from Middle Eastern background, the Vietnamese influence is very strong.
Chicken and rice
The tour lasts about three hours, and takes you in and out of the shops and a few of the restaurants as a “beginners guide” to both Vietnamese food (generally) and food in Cabramatta specifically. The tour guides today were Jennifer Lam and Amy Ta.
Jennifer Lam is the editor and photographer behind one of Australia’s top food blogs, JENIUS – The Spectacular Culinary Adventures of a Sydney Gen Y. She is also one of the top 100 women bloggers in Australia.
Amy Ta is a former resident of Cabramatta. Having lived away from Sydney’s Little Vietnam for a short while she misses the sights, sounds and flavours of her hometown. When Amy isn’t constantly chatting about food, she is writing about it on her blog tinytearoom.com.
Cabramatta food tour
They both spoke knowledgeably with passion about the food of the area, also offering tips along the way about places we didn’t have the time to visit. As evidence of their passion, they told us how they had met and became friends through food blogging, and were planning to spend the rest of the day eating pho, the signature Vietnamese dish. That’s commitment!
Cabramatta fruit and veg
For me it was a really interesting tour to participate in. I probably knew a little more about Vietnamese food and culture than many of the other participating, but I still learned quite a few new things. It was great to discover a restaurant with to-die-for crispy chicken served with tomato rice. “I’m quite addicted to tomato rice”, Amy told me when I asked about it. Apparently, it’s just tomato paste added to plain boiled rice to give it a little more flavour. I was also interested in a few street dishes, including a sesame-flavoured bread snack and a bright green waffle made with a leaf I can’t recall right now.
Best of all – lots and lots of shops with really fresh food and good prices. Yes, Cabramatta is a long way from Surry Hills. :)
Cabramatta
As a bonus to the tour, we were all given a branded hession bag which included half a dozen pages of recipes and notes, and a book which Jennifer released about her food travelling adventures in Vietnam and Singapore.
I had a lovely meal tonight with my friend, Yvette at Mohr Fish. Oddly enough, although she’d lived in Surry Hills for a number of years now, she’d never been there before. I haven’t been there, either, for a number of years, aside from the occasional take-away. Gosh it was good.
It’s been several weeks since we’ve caught up, despite the fact that we live just a short distance from each other. This weekend, however, she’s moving back to “God’s Own Country” (Sutherland Shire), and so is bidding farewell, it seems, to life in Surry Hills. So after an outdoors chardy at the Shakespeare, we headed over to Mohr Fish which has been there for at least a decade.
Located in an old butcher shop, I think, the shop is small, the decor is simple, and the food is delicious. We started off the meal with fish cakes (sublime) and dumplings (gorgeous) which, any other night of the week, would have amounted to a full meal. And then for mains we had the rockling (a fish I’d never had before) and the monkfish (a fish Yvette had never eaten before). By the end of the meal, we were completely satisfied, and we both had bulging tummies.
In other life activities, I’ve come to the conclusion “something’s fishy”.
“You should join the queues early”, I was advised by both Marco and Peter. And they were right: the museum queues in Amsterdam are extraordinarily long. Once inside the Van Gogh Museum, I was amazed, first of all, at how many people there were. And secondly, I was amazed at how many people weren’t actually looking at the art. Occasionally, you would see someone peer closely towards one of the paintings. Perhaps they heard heard something on the audio tour, or had read something in the notes? So you would see them peer closely at a work for half-a-second before continuing that slow shuffle.
It’s a dilemma though, isn’t it? On the one hand, the crowds bring in the dollars which makes it possible to support the preservation of these great works. But on the other hand, when you see so many people going through a museum and not really paying any attention, what’s the point? I mean, if there were thousands of people going through, and you saw that each of them had at least one great moment you would think that’s great. But when you look at their faces and they look bored, and they’re only doing this because someone said, “You’ve got to do the Van Gogh Museum” you begin to wonder what’s the point for all involved.
I still enjoyed the experience, though. The audio tour which accompanies the exhibition is excellent. You get a really good sense of the narrative of the life of Van Gogh, and how the ups and downs of his apparent mental illness, and how he reacted to that illness, influenced his work. The audio tour also draws your attention to details of the work in an accessible manner without having to dumb things down.
But you’re also left wondering about some things. I would have liked to have known a little more about his time in what seemed to be mental health facilities. Surely there must be records relating to the illness and the treatments he received? I was also left wondering about the relationship with his brother, Theo. I didn’t quite understand why Theo, for example, advised him to become an artist when, at an early point in his life, he didn’t know what to do with his life.
I was also intrigued by the way in which Van Gogh reacted to the work of his contemporaries. In one instance, there’s a series of paintings which are based on the works of a good mate. “It’s like a musician playing someone else’s work and adding a personal stamp”, Van Gogh is said to have said to his mate as an explanation for the apparent copy. And as Van Gogh’s work didn’t become popular until after his death, I would have liked to have known more about the response while he was alive.
Having seen similarly long queues at the National Museum, I decided I’d forget about it today, and hopefully visit it tomorrow when, presumably on a Monday, the queues are much shorter.
Instead, I went to Resistance Museum which was a far more enjoyable experience. Not as “sexy” to the average tourist as the bloke who chopped off his ear, but a more interesting insight into the nature of the Dutch character, I’d argue. In fact, there’s a comment near the beginning of the exhibition which argues the war-time experience of the Dutch continues to influence the nation to this day. Although it’s not explained in detail what that comment actually means, my interpretation means they believe it lies in the independent spirit of the Dutch people.
Through newspapers, photographs, video, audio (and all the usual stuff), the exhibition describes the impact of the German invasion. Although called the “Resistance Museum”, it doesn’t shy away from recognising that many Dutch people were, initially, okay with the take-over, as life didn’t change very much at all, and there was a certain sense of “German brotherhood”. But the exhibition explains that, as the war went on, and the notion of Dutch identity became less and less, and that as men were forced to go and work in Germany, resistance increased. The story of resistance is told very well through the narrative of three Dutch sisters who were communists and who did everything they could to fight against the Nazis. There’s some wonderful video footage of the three women, today, by the way, reflecting on their experiences.
Also war-related, I visited the Homo-monument which recognises the impact of the Nazis on gay men, and in fact all forms of gay opression around the world. It’s simple, well-signposted, and there was a little “Gay Amsterdam” information centre nearby.
Speaking of which, my friend Graeme suggested I really must visit the Amstel Tavern, now renamed Amstel Fifty-Four. It’s a great little bar on one of the canals – isn’t everywhere? – where they play Dutch pop music from the last forty-years. Occasionally, they’ll throw in another European hit song, such as “Dancing Queen” and “Summer Night City”, and even less occasionally an American hit (there was a song Cher recorded with an Italian singer I’d never heard of before), but mostly it’s Dutch pop. All of it, of course, was totally unrecognisable to my ear. “Do you like Dutch pop music?”, the barman said to me, to which I replied, “No, though I could get to like it. I like schlager”. He raised his eyebrows and smiled and then said, “Yes, it’s fun music”. There were only two bar staff, by the way, just him, a 40 ish bloke, and a slightly older blonde woman. They ran a good bar though, always on top of things, and from time to time, taking around a slice of salami or cheese for the punters to eat on.
I’ve arrived home tonight, having had a really terrific day, and thinking I wouldn’t mind staying for another night. I’m heading off to Hilversum tomorrow to catch up with a colleague who is currently working at Radio Nederland, and was planning on catching the train from there to Berlin. I think though, I’m not done with Amsterdam yet. I think I’m gonna stay one more night.
Van Gogh merchandise: “Get your genuine Van Gogh ear bandage here”.
The long queue at the national museum.
Street where I’m staying: Pieter Cornelisz Hoofstraat
Italian made and designed clothing with the “Australian” brand name.
Resistance Museum, Amsterdam
Homo Monument recognises the oppression of gays and lesbians.
Or is this the Homo Monument? :)
I figured if there was gonna be a fat tourist in my photograph of the Rembrandt Monument, it might as well be me.
They ring their bells too much. They don’t wear helmets, and don’t use their lights at night, and their bicycles are mostly fairly drab. This isn’t!
The day started with a rather fine coffee at The Diplomat, a grand old hotel on the waterfront in Stockholm. We had arrived earlier than expected for our planned archipelago tour. I was anticipating delays on the transport system due to the public holiday, but it wasn’t too bad after all.
As we cruised around the inner archipelago, we noticed there there were still many large blocks of ice in the water. We were also told there was one section of the tour they would normally cover during the summer, but couldn’t this time due to the ice. The guide explained many of the people who live on the isolated smaller islands use the ice as a “bridge” to nearby islands with transportation back to Stockholm.
Port hole view of Stockholm Archipelago
Sue was surprised by the large number of Swedes on many of the tourist adventures we’ve been on. That’s when I mentioned I will often do “tourist things” back in Sydney. I love a good walking tour. I stop short of the “Hop On Hop Off” bus thing, but I love visiting Darling Harbour, the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. It never ceases to amaze me the number of people who say, they’ve lived in a town most of their lives and have never visited a place because “it’s a thing for tourists”. I figure that if people will travel from the other side of the world to see something in your town, there has to be a good reason for it.
Enjoying the sunshine in Stockholm
Being a tourist is quite exhausting though; all that walking around and looking at things. And it makes you hungry. We had lunch at a terrific place called, Italiano. Great coffee, great food, great atmosphere. Highly recommended.
After lunch, Sue went to church (and later came home to read), while I went off for a bit of “James Time”.
I noticed the people of Stockholm have started to re-emerge from their winter slumber. Even in the last few days, the amount of outdoor seating at restaurants and bars has increased significantly. In the centre of Stockholm, for example, there’s a terrific little bar on a moored boat which is always popular during summer. There were quite a few people on board, rugged up with blankets on their knees. Nearby, others were simply seated on the footpath, with their legs dangling just a few centimetres above the ice.
I also noticed posters for some upcoming concerts and shows. Dire Streets (OMG) are coming to Stockholm soon. On a local level, I noticed posters for shows by Anna Järvinen, the Gyllene Tider reunion tour (the band Per Gessle was in before Roxette) and a show by Orsa Spelman (playing at Rival, the hotel owned by his sometimes bandmate, Benny Andersson). I’ve also heard there’s a musical coming up soon based on the classic Swedish film about an “ordinary woman” who enters Melodifestivalen called, Livet är en schlager. It’s a film I love very much, and it’s the kind of thing which could tempt me back to Stockholm. I’ve been looking online for details, but haven’t seen anything yet. If you know, can you please comment below with the details.
Some art on the footpath, under the bridge at Hornstulls Strand
I spotted some terrific public art under the bridge at Hornstull Strand. Someone had printed (or maybe lasered) a series of images onto concrete squares and had simply left them on the footpath for the world to enjoy.
Loopen Restuarang in Stockholm
Not far from the aforementioned “public art”, I discovered Loopen Restaurang. Positioned out on the water, and with palm trees and outdoor furniture, you can imagine how popular it could be in summer. But even on Good Friday, with strongish winds blowing and temperatures hovering around zero, it was reasonably popular. As I drank a glass of wine, I sat outside in the sun until finally, the lure of some indoor heating became too much. An older woman asked if it was okay if she and her friend joined my table. Surprisingly, for Good Friday, many bars and restaurants were open. I found a great spot to “people watch” on Götgatan, the main street of Södermalm. It was a bar called Fenix. The seat I took was in the window which overlooked the place where smokers took refuge. Unlike Berlin and Copenhagen, smoking hasn’t been allowed in bars in Stockholm for many years. As the smokers enjoyed their cigarettes, I noticed a lot of people coming up to them asking them for money.
The view from Fenix
Noticeable street-beggining is the one thing that has really stood out on this trip compared with previous ones. I gave some coins to a woman seated on the footpath near Mariatorget station. I’m always more inclined to give money to women than men. I know it’s an over-generalisation and an over-simplification, but I’m more inclined to think they have children at home they’re needing to feed.
This morning, I had the opportunity to chat with Hamish Macdonald on ABC Radio Sydney about a significant milestone – the first anniversary of my amputation. A year ago on this coming Sunday, I was rushed to the hospital, underwent a lower right leg amputation, and began a whole new chapter in my life. During the interview, I kept one key thought in mind: what valuable insights could I share with others facing a similar challenge? Hopefully, my story resonated and offered some helpful advice. On Sunday, I’ll share the written story, but right now, here’s the audio, and a fairly accurate transcript.
Hamish : And joining me in the studio this morning on 702 Mornings is our colleague James O’Brien. He’s a voice that you might have heard before. These days, he’s on the planning and strategy side at the ABC, but if you’ve been listening to ABC Radio for some years, you’ll know his dulcet tones, especially if you’re from the regions or you’ve got relatives in regional New South Wales.
James was on mic for more than a dozen years, delivering a daily radio program to those of you across the New South Wales regions. Over that time, he would have done lots of stories himself on diabetes, on disability, as well as things like overseas holidays. But just over a year ago, these three things really came together in a pretty extraordinary set of circumstances and turned his life upside down.
James has survived, though, to tell the story, and in fact today, well this week I think, he’s celebrating what he’s calling his stumpversary, which I feel like I’m not entitled to use. But anyway, James is here to explain. Good morning, James, how are you?
James : Hi there, Hamish. Yeah, stumpversary, I can say that. Other amputees can say ampuversary. Yeah, I’ve got to worry about it. Yeah, look, we can say it. I can say it.
Hamish: So explain stumpversary. What does it actually mean?
James : Okay, so on the 30th of June last year, I call it my end of financial year discount, I was taken to the hospital in an emergency situation and the lower third of my right leg was removed. It was the combination of a bunch of things, including an infection in my foot that just went a little bit crazy, sepsis, things like that, also diabetes. And even though it’s my individual story, it’s a really common one. The estimate is that something like 8,000 Australians each year will have an amputation. 160,000 in Australia, it’s growing at 2.2% each year. Three-quarters of men, because we don’t look after ourselves. And so it’s a huge issue. And in fact, in terms of diabetes-related amputations, we have the highest rate in the OECD. So I’m hoping by talking about this this morning, that I’m going to create a bit of awareness, particularly for men of my age, but also lots of other reasons that people have amputations too.
Hamish: You’ve written a beautiful account of your experience and your journey over the last 12 months, which will be published on the ABC website. And we’ll put that out as well if you’re listening to this and want to read more. But it struck me in your description of things that, I mean, I can’t even imagine receiving that news that you were going to have to have an amputation.
James : Well, I didn’t actually receive that news.
Hamish : Yeah, because you didn’t sort of explain that.
James: So what exactly happened is I’d been overseas with friends, and I got a bit of a cut on my foot. You know, I had a bit of an infection. And then the sepsis came through and basically started moving up my leg. Meanwhile, diabetes was kicking in, and I went into a bit of a delirium for several days leading up to the situation.
And then on the Friday, I was supposed to deliver some deadlines, which are very important for journalists to do. No one could find me. One of my colleagues, Joanne, raised concerns and tried to call and all those sorts of things. She and two other friends, Andrea and Ross, and my next-door neighbor, Alexis, then knocked on my door. No answer.
The police arrived along with two ambulances and found me unconscious on the floor. I don’t really remember. The only thing I remember of the night itself is Ross standing over me and saying, “It’s okay, James, we’re getting you to the hospital.” That’s all I know.
Then four days later, I woke up from a coma. By which time my niece had arrived down from Lismore. And thank goodness, she’s a nurse. So she understood all this stuff and was able to communicate. She said, “I had to summon up all the courage I had to tell you that there’d been an amputation.” And I didn’t give consent because I wasn’t in a position to do that.
Honestly, I was more off with the pain relief than upset. But I was also quite realistic: much worse things could have happened. Immediately. Yeah, I could have died. So there was a very strong risk of death and/or brain damage.
So when they, at St Vincent’s Hospital, removed the bottom half of my leg, there was the chance they might have wanted to remove more. But it’s remained as a lower leg amputation. They talked to my niece about going further, but thankfully that wasn’t required.
Hamish: You talk in your article about your experience of the sort of adjustment process in, you know, back into the world and returning to work and taking public transport. What’s it been like?
James : Look, at first I could hardly get anywhere. So I was still going around in a wheelchair until about October, November last year. I was in hospital and rehab for three or four months. At first I had a lot of support because I was in a wheelchair. So people see you coming up and they go, oh yeah, well, does this guy need a bit of support? And I did in those early days. The only thing that drove me insane in those early days, being in a wheelchair, were those hire bikes.
Hamish: As in the Lime bikes that get left out on the street.
James: Anyway, so people were parking them in the middle of the footpath. And so I had to go around them and those sorts of things. And, you know, I had friends to push me around. I also had some support from the NDIS in terms of getting out in the community and those sorts of things. But then as I’ve become more and more able, people just don’t notice me anymore.
Hamish: It was an interesting observation you made about being on public transport and because people are standing, you say people are looking on their phones and they don’t actually see.
James: No, they don’t. So I’m still wearing mostly shorts, because I can’t get my pants over my prosthetic leg. But this morning, I got on the light rail this morning to come in here and there were six people sitting in those wheelchair places on the light rail. I saw a couple of people look up and then look back to their phones and then finally one person said, oh, would you like to sit here? And then the others did as well. So, you know, I just think people kind of think, oh yeah, he’s got a prosthetic leg. He’s fine. He’ll get around. But there was a long period of adjustment.
Hamish: Do you ever say to people, hey, do you mind getting up?
James: Sometimes I do. But mostly it’s when someone else needs it as well. Like if I get on at the same time as an older person with a walking stick or walking frame or something like that, I’ll say, hey, get up, get up and let them sit down. So yeah, sometimes I do.
Hamish: So it’s a good reminder if you’re on public transport or using it. Look up or look down. But also if you’re going to sit in one of those seats that are reserved, make sure you get up when the time comes.
James: Absolutely. So that’s been an interesting thing. I’ve had a couple of people – some just don’t notice. And I had one person push me out of the way to find a seat in the theatre, which was a bit of a nuisance. And I had one person also with a pram who thought her SUV-sized pram was more important in terms of mobility.
But, you know, mostly people are really fantastic. They’re really great. They sort of look and say, you know, can I help you with something? And that’s a much better thing to say to someone in this circumstance. Can I help you with something as opposed to, would you like me to do this for you?
You know, because when you say, would you like me to do this for you? It sort of takes away your power. And I had a bit of an incident earlier in the piece with friends who wanted to do things and they said, we’ll go to your house and do this for you. And I really got quite shitty with them. And I said, look, no, I don’t want that done. It’s much better to say, do you need some help? Would you like, not would you, can I do this for you? It’s what would you like, you know? Yeah, right. So less specific, just be open, you know, to what’s needed.
Hamish: You’re hearing the voice of James O’Brien, a familiar voice here on the ABC, marking his, what he calls, stumpversary this week. What about the emotional side of it? Because you also mentioned friends and family, some maybe not quite believing how okay you have said you are.
James: I’d been to Cambodia and I’d met people who had lost limbs through landmines…
Hamish: This was the holiday immediately before?
James: Yeah, the holiday kind of made me a bit aware of these sort of issues already. And I thought to myself, wow, I’ve lost a limb in a first-world medical facility. It’s fine. I’ve got lots of support around me. It’s fine. And look, two years earlier, my family had survived the Lismore floods. So I just thought, this is absolutely okay. But lot of people thought I was in denial. And, you know, at the hospital, I had a psychiatrist come and talk to me and she was concerned that I was in denial. And look, you know, maybe at some point there’ll be moments when I’ll go, you know, what has happened to my life? But, you know, I’ve been okay with it. But some people get really upset. When I was in hospital, there was one young guy who’d also had an amputation and he was in tears all the time. So, you know, people respond in different ways and there’s no right way. There’s just the way you respond.
Hamish : What about sport and activity and stuff like that?
James: I was never very sporty, but I have been to wheelchair basketball a couple of times. And there are some young women there who are just amazing. There’s one who found that a prosthetic leg wasn’t for her. So she actually just gets around with crutches, which just does my head in. Personally, I just know I couldn’t do that.
There are other people in much worse situations. I’ve been part of some international Facebook groups, which I’ve had to stop going to because they were just too upsetting. Particularly the American ones were really upsetting because of their health system there. They don’t have the NDIS (National Disability Insurance Scheme). And I was just reading these people saying, oh, look, I’d really like to get a prosthetic leg, but my insurance won’t cover it. So I’ll be praying to God to get a leg, to which I would say, well, you know, in Australia, we just pray to Bill Shorten and the NDIS can help out. So that’s been a really interesting thing to deal with. I’ve also seen and talked to people on these Facebook groups about, you know, much, much worse situations than me. So I feel fine about it all, you know.
The only thing I sort of worry about is ongoing relevance. And I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you a slightly naughty story. It is a slight naughty story. You know, obviously, you know, I’m 58 years old and, you know, I have wondered about my attractiveness as a man having lost a leg. And I was in an Uber recently and the Uber driver propositioned me,
Hamish : What rating did you give? Five stars?
James: Oh yeah, absolutely.
Hamish: Great to see you. Thank you for sharing the story. And as you say, so many of us don’t think about some of the critical things.
James: Can I say there’s one organization I’ve been involved with, which is called Limbs for Life, which is a national support agency for people. It’s a peer support agency. And maybe two or three weeks into my hospital stay, I got a phone call out of the blue from someone who lives in Newcastle called Clay. Very, very similar circumstance to mine.
Hamish: And it was just great to talk to other people in this circumstance. A text from Zoe says, James is the best. Back when I worked at the ABC, he was always so kind to me. Knowledgeable, funny, interesting. Sending him all the best. I don’t know if you know who. I know exactly who it is. James O’Brien, thanks very much.
