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Sunrise in Sydney
I woke early this morning, and set out with determination to the Opera House, hoping for a beautiful sunrise.
Though the moment didn’t last long (only a few minutes), I wasn’t disappointed in any way, shape or form, with the spectacular colours in the sky.
Television Saturday
Regular appearances by Sean Micallef could emerge as the only reason I don’t become totally addicted to “Laid”, the new black comedy on ABC 1. I don’t know why I don’t like him. I just don’t.
Co-incidentally, the last time I truly loved a program and found my allegiances tested was when he became Laura’s love interest on “Seachange”.
I think it’s because he has this constant look and manner which suggests he thinks he might be smarted than everyone else, and because he always plays “Sean Micallef”. Although I’m sure he’s probably a lovely person in real life, when he appears on screen I just want to punch him. I feel the same way about Kevin Klein and Richard Wilkins, but that’s another story and perhaps I need some therapy?
Anyway, the point is I saw an ad on television tonight for next week’s edition of “Laid” and I noticed Micallef makes an appearance. “Oh no”, I screamed at the television, adding, “I hope it’s only a camero and not an ongoing role”. Because if it is an ongoing role I will be really disappointed, as I was really impressed by the first episode of “Laid”.
I love the lead character. She has this great sense of vulnerability, but also strength. She works in a market research company doing focus groups. Meanwhile, she’s trying to get on with life and love and all of those things which challenge us all on a daily basis. She does so with passion and a dry, quite black sense of humour.
In this first episode, she goes to the funeral of a bloke she shagged twice at university, and who obviously held a candle for her for many years after. At the end of the funeral, she tries to hook-up with his best-friend, a guy she had also shagged a number of years ago. And guess what happens then? Well, I’m not one for spoilers, so will leave it to you to discover for yourself, as it’s available on iview for a couple of weeks http://www.abc.net.au/iview/#/view/715577 (apologies to overseas readers, as the program is geo-blocked to Australia only).
It was one of a few television shows I watched today as part of “catch up Saturday”. There was also a WW2 doco on iview which I started to watch, but lost interest in. And then on live to air television, I watched “Who Do You Think You Are”, a program about maps, Melvyn Bragg’s show about the English language and then Graeme Norton. Yes, a dramatically interesting Saturday in front of the box.
Seriously though, I love “Who Do You Think You Are” in both its English and Australia formats. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a family history program which delves into the ancestry of a famous person. Today’s episode was about an English newsreader whose ancestry was Jewish-Polish via South Africa and apartheid. Although I’ve no idea who she was, her story was fascinating. If there was ever a chance to work on that show, I’d throw in my radio career and be there in an instant. I love this stuff.
But yeah, television was my best friend today. Nothing else to report.
On The Road Again
After the excitement of Saturday’s sight-seeing adventure, I took things a little more slowly on Sunday. Though I thought about getting up early and going for a walk, I stayed in bed until about 9.00am. As daylight saving has commenced, I didn’t feel too guilty about sleeping in. Oh, and hey, I’m on holiday!
After a late morning breakfast at “Diggers” in Bourke, I returned to the apartment where I’ve been staying and had a brief lunchtime nap. It was a warm day with a soft breeze, which gently flowed through the big room where I’ve been staying. Later in the afternoon, I caught up with a mate and some of his family for quite a few beers at the pub.
I had a wonderful time in Bourke, and I’ve promised myself, and the people in Bourke I caught up with, that it won’t be another twenty years before I make a return visit.
And so today was a day spent mostly on the road.
The bus trip from Bourke back to Dubbo wasn’t as exciting as the trip there. In addition to the anticipation of visiting Bourke for the first time in twenty years, I was seated near an old colleague, and we talked most of the way.
The trip takes four and a half-hours, and it’s almost 400km of straight road across the plain. Although the vegetation doesn’t vary much, it’s still a pleasant trip. You look out the window, you read, you nod off for a few minutes.
And the bus is fairly cheap. My full price fair was $120 return. “I can do it for $2.50” my now retired colleague told me with a laugh.
Sue picked me up at the railway station in Dubbo, and within minutes we were on our way to the next stop on our journey, Parkes.
Parkes is famous a number of different things, including the CSIRO telescope which played an important role in the 1969 moon landing, being named after Sir Henry Parkes, “the father of federation” and for “Elvis Festival”, held annually in January.
There’s a fair bit of Elvis-related public art in the town.
It’s a fairly quiet day / night in Parkes, with most shops, cafes and restaurants closed due to the public holiday.
A couple of my favourites in Darwin, revisited
A Saturday in Darwin is best spent moving slowly, leaning into the local pace while strategically chasing the relief of the air conditioning.
My latest adventure began at the sensory bustle of the Parap Markets—a Darwin institution that feels like the true heart of the city’s multicultural identity.
The significance of Parap goes far beyond just a place to shop; it’s a weekly ritual where the aroma of Mary’s laksa mingles with the scent of tropical flowers and locally roasted coffee.
It’s where the community gathers to catch up, and it serves as a vibrant reminder of Darwin’s close ties to Southeast Asia.
I was pleased to find that getting there was remarkably stress-free; I took my mobility scooter on the number 4 bus, and the accessibility was excellent, allowing me to navigate the crowds and the stalls with ease.
While there was a predictably lengthy queue for coffee, I managed to play it smart. While many people were content to sit outside and brave the tropical heat, I found a comfy chair inside, tucked away in the glorious air conditioning to enjoy my brew in comfort.
From the markets, it was a short trip to the Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory, a transition that offered a day of profound, reflective contrasts. No matter how many times I visit, the Cyclone Tracy exhibition remains a mandatory stop. Returning now in 2026 feels particularly poignant, as the gallery has been thoughtfully redeveloped to commemorate the 50th anniversary of that devastating 1974 Christmas Eve.
For those with the nerves for it, the remastered sound booth remains the haunting centrepiece. It plays a looped recording of ferocious winds and tearing steel—a “screaming banshee” of a sound that lingers long after you step back into the quiet of the gallery.
The exhibition effectively balances this terror with the city’s resilient spirit. It features artifacts like the original Raggedy Andy doll and the iconic replica of the red Torana scrawled with “Tracey You Bitch”—a gritty testament to the dark Darwin humour that fuelled the rebuild.
I found myself lingering in the Tracy’s Echo section, which prioritises the stories of Aboriginal survivors and honours the enduring cultural strength of the Larrakia and Tiwi people during the disaster.
To lift the spirits, I moved on to the Phoenix exhibition by William Mackinnon. His “psychological landscapes” are inspired by his time living in the Kintore and Kiwirrkurra communities. Mackinnon has a remarkable way of turning everyday Territory motifs—abandoned, rusting cars and heavy, bruised skies—into something deeply emotional and cinematic. It’s art that feels like the land itself.
I finished the day wandering through Exit Art, the annual showcase for the Territory’s Year 12 students. It is always inspiring to see the world through the eyes of the next generation, and this year’s cohort is exceptionally bold.
The works ranged from intricate, large-scale illustrations to an ambitious 70-page graphic novella.
There is something uniquely grounding about being in the cool silence of the gallery, viewing art that interprets the very landscape you are standing on, before stepping back outside to look across the Arafura Sea.
Hot and Humid
It’s Saturday lunchtime and I’m at work for two reasons. First, I had to make a few arrangements, face to face, with one of the presenters. Second, it’s SOOOOOO BLOOOOOOODY HUUUUUMID. I’m not sure what the actual humidity reading is, but speaking with some people here at work, they’ve told me the weather today is very strange… a bit like the “build-up”.
Should I explain the “build-up”? Although aboriginal people in the area have identified up to eight seasons in the Top End (and the Top End refers only to one part of the Northern Territory, not the whole of the NT), white folk here usually just refer to the “wet season”, the “dry season” and the “build up”. While the Dry season is near perfect, with temperatures above 30 every day and not a rain cloud in site, the Wet Season is probably more of an acquired taste. During the Wet season temperatures get a bit higher but, more importantly, the humidity rises sharply. Most locals say the “build up” is the worst. From October to the end of December the heat builds up along with the humidity. Storm clouds form, but very rarely is there any rain. If I can be a little sexual for a moment… it’s like your mother walking into your room when you’re on the verge of an orgasm.
Went out for a drink last night with Penny and a guy called Keith. Keith also lives in my apartment block on Level 8, which, he tells me, is the same level as the brothel! So yes, I was right about prostitution.
Also went to the other local bar, “Throb”, which was a little more exciting than the “Mississippi Queen”. Lots more people and friendlier too. I’ll write a more complete review when I have time.
I’m off for some lunch and then to do the War Tunnels tour that Damien and I didn’t get to do last time we were here.
Ord
It has been a day of far too many words.
Last night I stayed in, and spent a fair bit of time reading over my paper for the conference this week. I read it, I timed it, and I revised it many times, and this morning I sent it off. Fairly quickly I received some feedback from the session moderator that was absolutely true: I had spent far too much time with background information, preparing the audience for my message, rather than getting straight into it.
I guess I’d forgotten the art of writing concisely for the spoken word. It’s now six years since I came “off air” to go into management. I can’t believe time has gone that quickly. When I used to be on radio I could convey a story or an issue quite concisely in just a few paragraphs. Now it seems, it takes me 3,000 words to say what I could say in a few hundred.
I guess it’s reflected in this blog also. When I began writing, most posts were maybe 100-200 words. Now I can pump out 1000 words quite easily. And on this trip, the words have flowed. So this morning I spent a few hours on a major re-write, making it far more concise, which I am now much happier with. But by the end of it all, I was a little frazzled.
Having spent the last couple of weeks concentrating on articulating myself in Swedish, I had to return to English. And not just Australian English, but in English with an international audience in mind. This of course meant keeping an eye out for any unintended, culturally-laden Australianisms which would not translate easily. Anyway, it was a good exercise and I enjoyed it very much. But gee it was exhausting.
And it was kinda weird to go back entirely into English language mode. I’ve been trying so hard to speak Swedish while I am here.
I have no plans for the evening. Maybe a movie? An early start tomorrow, as I am catching the train to Malmo.
