It’s been a while since I’ve posted something in my “discarded category”. Maybe it’s the wet weather that’s stopped people from throwing stuff out? Or maybe it’s just that time of the year. You can imagine how excited I was on the way home tonight to discover an old microwave and a collander in the back laneway.
And for just a moment I was transported back to the late 1970s and our first microwave oven. We were early adopters even then. And as I recall, it was large, weighed a tonne, and did a bad job at cooking virtually anything, except maybe a cup of tea.
Discarded Microwave
I remember it was particularly bad with cakes which always came out pale and unbalanced. As this was a pre-browning, pre-rotating microwave oven, it was necessary to rotate the cake every couple of minutes (or else it would end up very lopsided), and you had to make sure the cake was well iced, or else you would have to eat something awfully pale in colour. The cakes were also very dry and tasteless, but we persisted.
I’ve had my current microwave for about 7 or 8 years and only ever use it to re-heat food, or occasionally make a quick cup of tea. They have their purpose I guess.
For the last few days as I’ve been walking around Surry Hills and Darlinghurst, I’ve noticed a bunch of posters concerning a young boy from North Queensland who has gone missing.
Every time I’ve seen one of the posters I’ve felt so terribly sad, thinking about what his poor family must be going through wondering, not knowing about his whereabouts, and how he must be feeling being away from his family and friends also. Has he come to misfortune? Has he run away and wants to go home, but now feels unable to go back? Or something else altogether?
I noticed one again on the way home tonight. There’s a lot of them around my neighbourhood, and I wondered if perhaps his family feels he may have ended up in this part of Sydney? Or maybe they’re appearing in lots of other locations also?
I guess part of the reason of why it’s touched me so much is that I’m originally from the country also. I can only begin to imagine the impact this must be having on the community around Cairns, where he’s from. Although it’s a reasonably big city these days, you just know it’s still going to be having a big impact.
And it made me think for a moment about a family member who went missing many years ago. I was quite young at the time and so don’t know much of the detail, but I do remember lots of overheard conversations while I stood quietly in the corner. Thankfully, she returned home several weeks later – as I recall – and has since gone on to lead a happy, content life. Let’s hope that happens for this young lad.
We had three or four days together sharing a room, and since we’ve been back in Sydney, we’ve caught up on three separate occasions so far.
We caught up again tonight, and once again, we reminisced about our time together. In particular, the night we went out for a few drinks and were dumb-founded by the high cover charges at bars in Stockholm. As I wrote at the time…
We went out for a beer tonight. Well, four actually. A mate of his had recommended Cafe Opera as “the hip place” to go in Stockholm, though when we arrived at about 9.30, there was hardly anyone there. We wandered around for a while, decided it was pointless, and went instead to the tourist haven of Gamla Stan.
After a couple of beers, we decided to give Cafe Opera another go. This time the place was a little busier, though not too much more so, and not exactly the hip and happening place to be on a Friday night. The crowd looked a bit ordinary. The clincher for us was the cover charge of 180kr (about $30). We looked the crowd up and down, decided there was little chance Madonna was inside, and so went looking for somewhere else to have a drink.
We looked at two further bars, both of which had a cover charge in the price range of 150-200kr ($30-40), but neither of which looked exciting enough to justify money which could otherwise be spent on drinking.
The coup de grace was the Irish pub which was charging 100kr (about $20) on the door. To my eyes it looked like any other Irish bar anywhere in the world, possibly full of Australian expats and backpackers. “They should be paying us to enter an Irish pub”, we both agreed.
Tonight there were no cover charges to worry about.
We met at The Dolphin at about 7.30 and had a drink before heading off to dinner at Agave, the newish Mexican place on Crown Street, until it all got too noisy.
We spent most of the night chatting and drinking at The White Horse.
It was there we got into an interesting discussion, albeit it a pointless one, with a drunkish woman sitting next to us. I won’t go into the detail of her argument, but in essence, she was arguing that Sydney wasn’t a particularly friendly place.
She was responding to the admission that Edward and I had met each other in Stockholm, whereas we may not have met each other in Sydney. We both agreed that was true. But we disagreed about Sydney being an unfriendly place. “We met in Stockholm because when you travel your mind is open to new things, and you’re more likely to chat to people and get to know them”, we argued with her.
Aside from that brief interlude, it was just us together having a bit of a chat about our lives. I really like him as a bloke, but there are still some things I don’t feel like I really know about him. I guess, like me, he’s a little secretive, a little reserved.
As my mate and I sat at the Newtown Hotel tonight we pondered for a while the pub’s sexual orientation. For years it had been a legendary “gay” pub run by the very famous/infamous lesbian, Dawn O’Donnell. It was a fun pub that you could hang out with your mates and have a laugh. For example, memorably, at the end of 2006/beginning of 2007, the pub ran a uni-sex amateur striptease competition. Aside from one occasion where an older female stripper showed a little more than the young men in the front row would have liked, it was a fun, joyous competition that pretty much summed up the pub.
And then, three years ago, and with little warning, the hotel closed suddenly. In November 2007, I wrote the following…
Can you imagine the look on my face when I met my mate Graeme yesterday for a drink at the Newtown Hotel , only to discover it had been suddenly closed down? It had been a warm day in Sydney and we were both looking forward to the retro-music night they had recently introduced. On arrival, Graeme broke the bad news. Outside, there were a couple of bouncers keeping a close eye on those passing by, but not explaining why the bar was closed. When we peered through the windows, we were able to see some phones and computers stacked up, but noticed all of the spirits had been removed. Sitting on the footpath around the corner, a couple of the bar stuff told us they had arrived for their shift as usual, and that the reason for the closure had been a leasing dispute with the owners of the building. Nearby someone had erected a small tombstone.
It was about the same time that another famous “gay” pub in nearby Erskineville, The Imperial, closed also. Since then “the gays” have had no “official” place to go in the area. Most of the pubs in Newtown are gay friendly, and very mixed, but there’s been nowhere “official” if you get my meaning. But then suddenly recently The Imperial re-opened, and so too has The Newtown now.
The Newtown Hotel is flying both the rainbow flag and the jolly roger.
But has it re-opened as a gay pub, a mixed pub, or something else altogether? The consensus on places like Same Same seems to be the hotel’s owners aren’t particularly targetting a gay clientele. But then you look around the bar and you’ll find there’s a fair number of gays amongst the customers. The gays seem to have staked a claim on their old territory, whether that’s what the owners want or not. So I was left wondering for quite some time until I walked outside and looked up and noticed the hotel is, once again, flying two rainbow flags. Oh, and a jolly roger. What’s that about? :)
And while Patrick went off with some friends for a day at the beach, I had a meeting with my friends in Hawkesbury One, an art collectors group we formed a several years ago.
Put simply, we each contribute an amount of money each year with which we collectively purchase art works. The works are then shared and rotated amongst us for six months at a time. It’s a very democratic structure, as we all contribute exactly the same amount of money, and all have an equal say in the art works we purchase.
Overall it was a reasonably productive meeting, and it was great to see everyone again, as we usually only meet every three, four or six months. So it’s not only “business” that we all talk about. “I remember when you were pregnant with your first child”, I said to one of the members, as we reflected on the fact she and her husband now have three daughters. Time flies, eh?
And then I came home and caught up with Patrick, and we then headed off to a birthday party I’d been invited to upstairs at KInselas.
It was a bit of a showbiz party with a few well-known faces here and there, including the very stalkable Matthew Mitcham. It was the second Sunday I’ve seen him in a row. How weird is that?
After a couple of hours, I bid Patrick a fond farewell, as he headed off back to Canberra.
And then I came home, watched my usual favourite Sunday night viewing of British comedy on Foxtel – “Are You Being Served”, “Yes Prime Minister”, “On The Buses” etc – and then it was time for bed.
“I really love French disco from the late 70s to the early 80s”, I whispered into the ear of my friend, Sue, as we watched and listened to the DJ, and waited for the show to start, a production called Pigalle at Sydney Festival.
DJ warms up the crowd at Pigalle at Sydney Festival
As examples, here’s a few clips from the period. Heavily influenced by American disco, especially the band Chic, but with a European sensibility, the lyrics and the grooves are memorable forty years on.
To be truthful, I didn’t know too much about the show, when she suggested we attend. And I’m not sure she knew much either, as it was the suggestion of friends visiting from Melbourne. But once the show started, I was entranced. I knew every single song in the show. If there’s a “narrative”, I’m guessing it’s the music of people my age who love disco and who love dancing. There’s a common narrative of a guy dancing throughout the show, who starts as a young and energetic figure, and who lands in an older spot in his life, looking for meaning. Or at least that’s how I read it? Or maybe I’m putting too much of my own interpretation into it?
What is Pigalle? It’s the red light district of Paris, and the thematic, if not the actual setting for the songs. A modern take on the Moulin Rouge, perhaps? I loved the interpretations, with Iota (who I haven’t seen since he performed as Hedwig), and Marcia Hines as the lead performers. Along the way, there were also some acrobatic and burlesque performances, leading to a wonderful overall ensemble, where Iota and Marcia, though important, weren’t necessarily the “stars” of the show. Everyone was terrific, especially the acrobatic performances and the burlesque, which included amusing strippers and dramatic fire-eaters.
Definitely one of the most fun shows I’ve seen in a while, and the soundtrack is stuck in my head.
Pigalle Cast at Sydney Festival
Iota and Marcia Hines in Pigalle at Sydney Festival
As well as the CD, the digital radio, it’s also got an iPod Dock and you can connect USB players/devices via the port on the front of the unit to play MP3 and WMA tracks, although it’s unlikely Colin will use the other components.
The CD and the radio, however, are excellent.
Were it not for the fact that I’m heading overseas soon and am trying NOT to spend money, I would have bought one myself.
So in an effort NOT to spend money, I spent the remainder of the day at home listening to music, reading, and for a while chatted with Damien over Skype.
He’s currently in South East Asia on an extended trip.
I also did a little of my own travel planning, securing a couple of train tickets between Stockholm and Malmo.
Although I tried several times to purchase the tickets online, I was unable to. Sometimes the apostrophe in my name causes confusion for websites. I think in this case, there must be an issue with trying to purchase the tickets with an Australian credit card, as it was processed easily via a telephone call to SJ, the Swedish train system.
