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.
As we walked down the street thinking about the recent closure of the Imperial Hotel for renovation we wondered out loud, “where will all the Newtown poofs go now?”. My bet is the Court House.
Andrew and I went to a function tonight for the launch of a CD called Hey Eugene by the band Pink Martini at Hugos Pizza in Kings Cross.
Upon arrival, one of the most significant concerns for Andrew was a grammatical one: the apparent lack an apostrophe in Hugos Pizza. Although I argued the case that Hugo perhaps wasn’t a person and he wasn’t having ownership of the pizza, and that it was a proper noun, Andrew remained unconvinced. Okay, so I was playing the devil’s advocate…
We were probably, however, the only people in the room having this discussion, as we were also probably also the oldest people in the room. We noticed one or two people born in the 70s, but we guessed most were probably considerably younger than ourselves.
But did we worry? Nah, we had a great chat about the world, the universe and everything, and maybe nothing in particular. We also enjoyed the pink martinis (made pink by their use of Nudie juices) and the delicious Hugos (not Hugo’s) Pizza, and we enjoyed the music.
We both agreed the music sounded very good, and we both sampled a CD which we thought was the kind of music we would actually play at home. It’s kinda Latin-sounding, it’s kinda funky, it’s kinda cabaret. It’s kinda all of the above. I’ll be listening over the weekend in great detail, and no doubt Andrew will be posting his comments soon.
Otherwise it was a day for busyness at my business, with a whole bunch of stuff occurring. I both love and hate the fact that every day at work provides me with something new to think about. I never feel like I’m working in a sausage factory which is a great thing.
I’m also quite busy socially at the moment. Over the next few days, there’s a major birthday coming up for Kate and I’m going to see The Simpsons movie on Saturday (please don’t post any spoilers) followed by dinner with Damo at the very new and funky Foveaux Restaurant & Bar. And then on Sunday, I’m having a meeting of my art group, followed by a repeat performance of Company which will presumably include “the missing songs”. And then Andrew and I have decided we’re going to head along to the Blogger Meet Up which will, presumably, be a bit of fun, even if we’re probably also both the oldest in the room again. If you read this blog, why don’t you come along too?
When: Sunday 29 July (Rain or shine) From 5 pm (we may not get there until 5.30 though, due to earlier commitments)
Where: Tilbury Hotel, Woolloomooloo
How: Look for the Blogger Sign
One of the things Sue is finding a little “confronting” about staying in “ordinary homes” in Europe is the “open curtain policy”. By that, I mean, the tendency for people to leave their curtains open at night, so pretty much everything in their houses is visible to you, and vice versa.
I noticed this first a couple of weeks ago staying in Stockholm. As I sat in my lounge-room at night and watched television, I could look across the street and see everyone else was doing pretty much the same. It was if we were in one big house together, separated by only a few metres. Memorably, one night I watched a bloke cook dinner wearing only his underwear. I tried not to let my eyes linger for too long.
I read somewhere it was common in The Netherlands, as a hang-over from the German occupation during the Second World War. They kept their blinds and curtains open so people could both see what was occuring outside and inside. I can imagine there might have been a similar reason in Denmark, though the rationale makes no sense for Sweden which remained neutral during WW2. Maybe there’s another reason? Maybe it’s just because they have a more “open” society than we do in Australia? Maybe it’s because people have lived together more closely for a longer period of time? Maybe we’re just not that accustomed to the intimacy of apartment living in Australia yet?
Backyard View – Stockholm
We noticed this “open curtain policy” again last night as we checked in to our apartment in Stockholm. This time we’re staying at an apartment in a suburb called Enskededalen, to the south of Stockholm. It’s a reasonably quiet neighbourhood (so far), perhaps due to our proximity to the beautiful woodland cemetery? As we arrived last night, I noticed the birds in the trees were having a wonderful time, keeping us entertained with their beautiful songs. It’s that kind of neighbourhood. Leafy. Green.
The apartment is in a largeish security block of maybe 60 apartments or so. We have a balcony which overlooks the backyards (and loungerooms) of nearby houses. Inside, each apartment has its own little internal balcony, and overlooks a large central area with plants and trees. In some ways, it feels like we’re staying in a large hotel, though much more intimate as it’s actually someone’s apartment.
Apartment Garden
The apartment is about ten minutes from T-Centralen on the Farsta line, and then only about a three or four minute walk from the T-bana. So it should provide a good central basis for the next couple of weeks. Sue is here until just after Easter, and I’m here for a few days longer, before heading off to Reykjavik.
Even though we’ve had a couple of days travelling by train now, the travel hasn’t been overly stressful. Sure, we almost missed our train yesterday, as we didn’t fully understand the signs at Copenhagen Central. But otherwise, Sue’s been reading books and I’ve been listening to podcasts.
I’ve woken early on this Tuesday morning (up at about 0500), and as I look out my window the sun is shining, the sky is blue, and I’m happy to be back in Stockholm.
I still remember the sounds of the pile drivers as they constructed the “new buildings” for South Lismore Public School.
And when I say “new buildings”, the “new school” was opened in 1978, the year I started high school. Many of the school’s previous timber buildings were replaced with “modern” brick buildings.
The school was a construction site between the third and sixth classes for me.
And I remember the sound of the pile drivers was a constant annoyance for students and staff alike.
When the “new school” was opened, it was very modern, and much appreciated.
Fast forward to 2022, and most school buildings were seriously damaged in the flood.
South Lismore Public School underwater in February/March. Pic from the school’s Facebook page.
“Unsalvageable” was the word used today in a series of school meetings. My niece attended one of these. Her mother went to the school, she went to the school, and now her two daughters attend the school.
Their grandmother, Nancy attending the school, centre, holding the sign, in 1954, the year of “the big flood”.
“She hasn’t really had much experience of the school. First, there was COVID, and then there was the flood”, she told me about her youngest daughter. For the last few months, they’ve been attending another nearby school.
That’s me, second left in the front row, attending South Lismore Public School, 3rd Class, 1974 with teacher, Mrs Wilson, the year of the next “big flood”.
When my niece mentioned what was happening today, I felt pretty sad. As I was in the office, I told a few colleagues, but I knew from their reactions, no one quite understand how sad I felt.
Current building assessment in the brochure given to parents today.
A few weeks ago, they made a similar announcement about Richmond River High School, the high school we both attended.
“They’re talking about rebuilding Richmond River further up the hill, behind the showgrounds”, she told me.
In the meantime, they’re installing demountable classrooms on the nearby sports field opposite South Lismore Public School (the official name is Lismore South Public School, but no one ever calls it that). And they’ll soon commence a building project which may take 2-3 years, according to the brochure handed out today. They’re promising something new and better, which was great to read about.
But still, there’s sadness, about memories, and the rough time the students and staff have had over the last few years.
There were police EVERYWHERE in the city today. Due to the “Controversial Muslim Video” and the associated protests, police in Sydney were definitely on a “heightened state of alert”.
It was something I’d only half-noticed, due to being on a “heightened state of alert” myself, due to my job. Mostly they were on foot, and mostly walking in twos and threes, though I’d imagine they would have quickly moved into “operational mode” if something untoward had happened.
My venture into the city today, however, was more about “Art & About”, the annual public arts space in the City of Sydney which I normally look forward to each year. Indeed, I’ve at least once seriously considered submitting an entry.
That said, I was a little disappointed with the “City Life” photographic display in Hyde Park. Normally, it’s something I enjoy very much, though this year I thought most of the works were quite predictable. The works which surprised and interested me were the works about the soldiers doing training on the outskirts of Sydney and the the market gardens at Matraville. What I thought was interesting about these works was they highlighted a part of Sydney life which was quite unexpected. In the midst of a major global city, the works were almost “rural”. Very interesting.
Youth Sculptures in Art and About
I didn’t have time to take too much of a look at other works around the city, though I did enjoy the youthful sculptures around Martin Place, and I especially liked the Reko Rennie work at Taylor Square. Reko is an Aboriginal man, with a country heritage, but whose work mostly deals with life in urban areas. He has transformed the old JBF bar (that’s what I still call it) at Taylor Square into an amazing art work with the title, “Always was, always will be”, being a reference to Aboriginal lands.
The other work at Taylor Square is totally forgettable. It’s a work which features some overhead wires and styled paper-planes. The whole idea is the work moves and projects some interesting patterns as the sun moves through the sky. A bit lame, in my humble view.
I only skimmed the surface of Art & About today, so am looking forward to re-visiting the works over the next few weeks.
Sweden’s biggest secret is just how beautiful the place is at this time of the year.
A couple of weeks ago I was looking at the weather map and getting really worried.
The temperatures had been below zero since the beginning of December.
But since I’ve arrived, with one or two exceptions, the weather has been really wonderful. Although the temperatures remain low, there are blue skies, and the sun shining on your face can make you feel really fantastic.
And today was a good example of how great that can be.
I went to Millesgården, a sculpture garden in the northern part of Stockholm.
It’s a garden and museum based around the works of a Swedish sculptor who was heavily influenced by classic sculpture from Rome.
That some of these works reflect the Nazi aesthetic of the time, and the sculptor’s own personal political views, is a little uncomfortable to say the least.
But his works are interesting, and he was, apparently one of Rodin’s assistants in France, which you can clearly see in his style.
During summer, the garden is very popular, especially with all of the fountains. But today, the place was all but deserted, aside from myself and one other bloke.
Thus, I was lucky enough to have a couple of hours walking around the garden, and to look closely at the works, without the distraction of other people closeby.
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“It’s so good to have all the works to yourself”, one of the guides said to me as we chatted. She added, quite correctly, seeing the sculptures in the snow, also gave them a “magical quality”.
Mostly though, the white background from the snow, really helps the works stand out more. And you can really look at them without the distraction of so many other colours you see in summer.
This is Sweden’s biggest secret: it’s a beautiful, uncrowded place at this time of the year, where the Swedes go about their business of being Swedes.
They don’t instantly assume you’ll speak English. In fact, the opposite.
It was a beautiful day sitting in the sun, relaxing, and enjoying life.
After last night’s extravaganza, and dancing to schlager, it’s a quiet night in for me, catching up on blogging, emails and so on.
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.
Mum’s Birthday 1984
Albert and Bertha O’Brien Grave
Michelle Bobbin, James O’Brien, Bertha O’Brien leaving for Germany in May 1983
There’s a much bigger story to tell, and one day I’ll share it, but not yet.
check out this remeberance myspace site i mate. you can add comments and invite friends there. http://www.myspace.com/rememberourbars
newtown hotel closure
newtown hotel closed
“where will all the Newtown poofs go now?”.
What, is the Bank closed again?
Renovate the Imperial? But it’s not the Imperial if it isn’t a fire hazard!
Again, this is seriously broken.
The Bank is terribly wanky now, Mark.
check out this remeberance myspace site i mate. you can add comments and invite friends there. http://www.myspace.com/rememberourbars
newtown hotel closure
newtown hotel closed
The Other Andrew reveals that today is your birthday.
Happy Birthday from an absolute stranger.
And Many More.
Yeh, was amazed by this. I love the tombstone and the vigil. Pleased that someone took a piccie as this is now been taken away by the scary bouncers.
Mark – Graeme and I went to “The Bank”, but we thought it’s all a bit yuppie to be a real replacement for The Newtown.
Nails – As Above.
Brad – Great site.
Mr Peenee – Thankyou so much. Very kind!!
Benython – The pic has been getting quite a bit of traffic. I feel so “paparazzi”.