My Nephew
In the midst of summer, taking a rest, this is my nephew Sam photographed through the fly-screen
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Christmas Pudding
“Make sure Jack gets some of the puddings from Aldi before they sell out. They’re so good”, I sent Michelle in a text message the other day.
Now in his 80s, Jack has a routine of heading into town in Lismore every few days and buying groceries.
He’s been at a bit of a loss since the flood in Lismore earlier this year caused the closure of Aldi. Thankfully, they’ve re-opened, and thankfully they have plum pudding. I bought one the other day from my local store in Darlinghurst, and consumed it within a few hours!
Though I fondly remember Jack’s mother, Lillian (or as I called her, Nanny Bobbin) was an expert plum pudding maker (she used to call them plum duff), we get them from the shops these days. Along with cream/ice cream, they’re always a big part of the family Christmas routine, along with Pat’s very simple trifle.
After all the drama/relocation they’ve had with the flood this year, there have been many conversations about “getting back to normal for Christmas”.
I’ve been back in Sydney for a couple of weeks now, and it’s nice to settle back into life here.
Still, a friend and I had dinner last night, and we talked about the “imminent” plan of returning “home” to Lismore.
“I’m not as happy in Sydney as I am in Lismore”, I told her.
We had dinner at a “Pasta Emilia”. Though it was the first time I’d been there, my friend told me “It’s been here for ages”.
Located on Riley street, Surry Hills, it’s got a “rustic” feel to it. Both the food and wine were excellent, and so was the service. They were always attentive, though not “in your face” as can sometimes be the case.
And of course, the conversation was terrific.
Since arriving back, I’ve caught up with quite a few friends and colleagues.
There’s one couple, for example, who live close by who I haven’t seen much of this year, due to regular trips to Lismore. We caught up on Monday night, and it was wonderful.
And then last week I caught up with some friends and colleagues for drag trivia at Sydney’s legendary bar, “The Imperial”. Coincidentally it was my birthday. And we came third place in the trivia. We might have won if we had concentrated more in the first round, instead of chatting, eating and drinking.
The next few days are definitely “diverse”. A couple of friends and I are going to a recording of a Christmas cabaret for the ABC religious program, Compass. On Saturday, I’m going to a housewarming/baby shower for a lesbian couple. And then on Sunday, I’m going to the induction of a friend who is becoming a Minister in the Uniting Church.
Today, I needed to visit a bank in the city, and then come back after a break for a second appointment.
In between, I took a break to see the current exhibition at the 4A Gallery by “TextaQueen”, which is described in these terms.
“Bollywouldn’t is a balm to the displacement of diaspora. This major commission echoes TextaQueen’s enduring practice of connecting with the community using texta as a mechanism to bring people together.
Through portraiture, photography, mural painting and projection, Bollywouldn’t presents decolonial narratives and the reclamation of power and space by South Asian diaspora. TextaQueen’s portraits of queer South Asian community have been digitally mapped onto buildings in and around London, creating the creating the illusion that they exist as actual murals on a monumental scale against colonial structures.”
https://4a.com.au/exhibitions/textaqueen-bollywouldnt
It’s a delightful exhibition, with politics, passion and humour evident in the work.
It was nice to have an unexpected and unplanned break in the middle of an otherwise busy fortnight since arriving back in Sydney from Lismore.
Life’s rich tapestry.
Are You On Skype?
I was both excited and surprised when my sister asked me tonight if I was on Skype? We were chatting about life in general, what she’s been up to, what I’ve been up to, her plans for retirement, and my plans to visit China. It was a lovely conversation.
And then all of a sudden she asked me if I had Skype.
It was not the kind of conversation I expected to have with her. As I’ve mentioned previously, in my family I’ve tended to be the “tech guy”.
About ten years ago when UHF television was introduced on the North Coast, I spent at least two days of my Christmas holiday on the rooftops of various family members doing antenna installations. And then about two years ago, when digital set-top boxes became all the rage, at least half a dozen of them sat in cardboard boxes until I was home for Christmas and able to do the very basic installations. Don’t get me wrong, I love doing it, and in the midst of a family of carpenters, cooks, sewers, plumbers and mechanics, it’s good to know I have an important role: “the tech guy”.
But tonight, as we chatted, Pat told me her daughter had recently bought her a laptop, and although she doesn’t know how to connect to the internet yet, she’s seen Skype work and would like to try it out with me.
I’m not sure how I feel about this. It seems my monopoly on all things technical might be coming to an end.
If family members can now connect to the internet and chat to me on Skype, what role will I have this summer when I go home for Christmas? I can’t just sit around and do nothing. Well, actually for much of summer, I’ll be working from our office on the North Coast. But in between, what will I do?
I’ve booked a ticket for Tropical Fruits NYE, but that’s just one day. I’ll go out for lunch and dinner with friends, of course. But what will I do in the meantime, if my family no longer has need for “the tech guy”? I’m feeling slightly redundant to my own existence :(
Anyway, Pat and I are planning a Skype conversation for Saturday afternoon which, I guess, means I need to tidy up the lounge room before then.
PS. I tried out the re-opened Charcoal Chicken Shop tonight. As I expected, it’s a little more “upmarket” these days, specialising in Portuguese Chicken – the flattened type with chili sauce – which was very, very, tasty.
Monday Monday
It’s amazing the number of people who come in to my office and comment on my new cyclamen. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?
A couple of friends gave it to me a few weeks ago when Gloria died. At the time, many of the buds had not opened. Since then, with steady watering and just about the right amount of filtered light, it’s gone from strength to strength. It’s a wonderful, joyous thing to keep me company throughout the day.
And I needed a bit of company today, as the mid-winter flu/cough/cold thing which affected me last week continues to affect some of my colleagues.
It’s a weird one this year. I had a day in bed, and since then have been “just a little bit sick”. A bit of a snotty nose, that’s all. In contrast, a colleague has had most of the last week in bed with a fever, aches and pains. “I was on the phone to my mum crying at how sick I was”, she told me today.
On arriving home tonight I made a pretty simple pasta dish, using probably too much sour cream, and hit the couch. Media Watch, Q&A… that’s about it. That’s my Monday.
November 7
I realised probably too late today it was the anniversary of mum’s death. She died on November 7, 1984, and this photograph (attached) was taken at her “final birthday”, February 7, 1984. I was on the verge of my nineteenth birthday, and mum was only 62 years old when she had a heart-attack. She had also suffered with asthma and kidney disease. On the morning of her heart-attack, I tried unsuccessfully to bring her back to life, so you might imagine her death has been one of the most significant moments in my life.
Though the date “November 7” is one I remember strongly (two days before my own birthday), I guess the day slipped me by, until late tonight I checked my phone and realised the date.
In the early days after mum and dad died, I would remember the dates every year. The first anniversary, the first Christmas, the first birthday are the dates you most often remember in those early years. I would often think about them. The memories were strong.
But thirty-something years later, it’s sometimes hard to remember the “details”. These days, some memories are very strong; others not as much. The intimate moments are strong. The smells. The sounds. But some thing have passed by. That’s what happens, I guess, with the passing of time.
And in twelve years time, I’ll be the same age as her when she died. Wow.
There’s a much bigger story to tell, and one day I’ll share it, but not yet.
My Family
I love this pic of my family.
When I Was Five
I played football or catchies or a combination of both with my five year old nephew this afternoon.
Well, I threw it to him so that he could catch it. And then he threw or kicked it back to me, which meant I had to run half-way around the yard as some of his hand-eye co-ordination skills are still developing.
He’s going to kindergarten at the moment, ahead of starting school next year. And thus, he still has the great innocence and joy of youth. He’s passed the terrible twos, but hasn’t reached the cynical sixes yet :)
Did I feel in any way clucky? Nah, as he’s quite the chatter-box. Believe me, a small amount of a five year old goes a long way.
I love his honesty though. My family have started to calling me “James” instead of Jimmy, which I’ve been known by for almost all of my adult life. “It’s Jimmy, not James” he keeps reminding them.
I guess they’ve come to a collective decision you can’t be a “Jimmy” when you’re 44 years old. I quite like, however, having a name that my family calls me that no one else does, except perhaps when they’re being sarcastic.
It’s part of that bond you have with your family, but not your friends. And equally you have a bond with your friends that you don’t have with your family.
So today, we just hung out. We watched some television. We went to the supermarket. I renewed my Worker’s Club Membership, we visited some relatives. Nothing much in particular, but rich in many ways.