I’m not normally one for these meme thingys, but this one on Cellobella’s blog caught my attention. Maybe it’s because I’m sitting in a youth hostel in Prague uploading photographs and have nothing better than to do with my time. I mean, I am composing a blog in my mind about the fascinating people around me (there’s a Phd in it, I swear), but in the meantime…
You Are Chardonnay
Fresh, spirited, and classic – you have many facets to your personality.
You can be sweet and light. Or deep and complex.
You have a little bit of something to offer everyone… no wonder you’re so popular.
Approachable and never smug, you are easy to get to know (and love!).
Deep down you are: Dependable and modest
Your partying style: Understated and polite
Your company is enjoyed best with: Cold or wild meat
There’s a bloke who seems to drink most days at one of the pubs here in Lismore, who seems to have also drunk the Q-Anon Kool-Aid. He’s a big bloke, always wearing hi-vis, and he has a friendly face. But every time I’ve been there lately, he’s been talking rather loudly about various conspiracy theories.
“Trump will return to power within a couple of months”, I’ve heard him tell people. “Big changes are coming”, he’ll add, seeking their affirmation. The looks on the faces of the people he’s speaking to suggest their disbelief.
The other memorable overheard conversation this week was at another pub. “All they have on TV, these days is f…ing COVID, so I’ve learned how to use Netflix”, I heard a bloke say. Yes, I know it’s incredibly important to know what’s going on, but it’s also true the constant media coverage can get you down, and explains why people are looking for distractions.
Maybe the two conversations are linked?
Being home with family in Lismore, I’ve started to spend most nights watching “Neighbours” and “Home & Away”. At first, I found it hard to identify where one program finished and the other started.
But then I’ve started to notice one is set in Melbourne (Neighbours) and the other is set in Sydney. One is mostly set in loungerooms (Neighbours), and the other is set mostly in coffee shops.
“Neighbours” is also way “gayer” than “Home & Away”, with the program currently featuring two gay couples. I know more about these two shows than I thought possible when I came home back in June.
For the most part, I’m working from home, though on two days each week, I’ve been heading in to work at the local office of the ABC. Three days this week, actually.
My “days in the office” generally start with a coffee and bagel at Ristretto, a cafe on Molesworth Street where the coffee, food and service are good. After only a few visits, they’ve come to know me, my order, and welcome me with a smile. Earlier today, I joked I’d probably worked more at the ABC in Lismore this year than I have at the ABC in Sydney. I checked my calendar, and it’s now pretty much equal!
Most days I’ll catch the bus to the office, and generally speaking, I’m often the only person on the bus.
And then in the afternoons, I’ll walk home, which affords me some exercise (about 3km, 45 minutes) and some lovely views.
Late afternoon at St Carthage’s Cathedral.And occasionally, there are some lovely sunsets.
I took a break from work yesterday to catch up with my cousin, Barry O’Brien. We have the same great-great-grandparents, Peter O’Brien and Mary-Ann Goward. https://thelimbshift.com/genealogy/peter-obrien-and-mary-ann-goward/ We both have an interest in genealogy and that’s how we first met when he was living in Muswellbrook.
At the time, my radio program was heard on the local ABC Radio station, and he heard me one day mention my ancestry. We met a few months later at the ABC in Sydney, and I vividly remember Drew (who worked at the coffee shop) asking if we were related. There’s definitely a physical similarity.
He was on his way to Queensland for a funeral and called into Lismore along the way. We chatted about lots of family history stuff, and I also took him for a walk around “the block”. He was amazed by the signs indicating how deep the floodwaters were in the record-breaking 1974 flood.
Yes, I know home-made bread has been all the rage over the last few years, thanks to those electric bread makers you can buy now, where you pile a whole bunch of stuff into a machine and it does all the hard work for you. Although I’ve toyed with the idea of purchasing one myself, I’ve never gone ahead with the purchase, concluding I’d probably use it only once or twice before my enthusiasm waned. But lately, I’ve become a little obsessed with the idea of making my own bread by hand.
It started when I was in South Africa a few weeks ago. I was staying at a guesthouse where the cook made fresh bread every day. Over breakfast one morning, he spoke passionately about how awful processed white bread can be is, and much better it is to make your own bread.
Then a few weeks ago I went to a friends place for dinner, and he also spoke with passion about how he had begun making his own bread. He spoke with passion, in particular, about creating the original sour-dough. He has more patience than I have. I want bread and I want it now.
So the other day I went online, found a simple recipe on Youtube, and picked up the necessary ingredients (flour and yeast) from the supermarket. And then tonight, I gave it a go.
My conclusion? It was surprisingly easy. It was also very satisfying. At the age of forty-seven, I’m still learning new tricks.
Here are the results.
Making Bread
With the ingredients, I ended up with two loaves of fresh bread. Of course, they’re not the most attractive loaves of bread (I’d lose points for presentation if I was on a cooking show), but they taste terrific, and they’ll taste fantastic over breakfast tomorrow (as well as a late night snack tonight). I’m inspired to do it again.
Sam and I caught up tonight for a drink in one of those “small bars” we now have in Sydney.
Truth be told, we’ve always had “small bars” in Sydney, but until they were specfically legislated for, we never actually called them “small bars”.
Now of course, they’re known specifically as “one of those Melbourne-style Sydney small bars”.
This one was on Oxford Street, opposite the courts, near the bus stop, near The Gay Bookshop, half way between The Tool Shed and The Balkan.
I can be that specific, because it was the directions we gave over the friend to a friend of Sam’s.
It was a nice enough bar. The cocktails were good. The seats were comfy. The staff were good. The crowd was a bit odd, in that, there weren’t actually that many people there, except for a ground of young women, one of whom was accompanied by her mum and dad. But it was good nonetheless.
At the moment, it’s a small bar without a name, On the front of the bar they proudly declare this, and inside there’s a “suggestion book” – so far only three rather boring suggestions. We, of course, spent a good five minutes coming up with names, all of which were basically around how you would spell a rather offensive English language word. I came up with the Swedish spelling, of course.
Catching up with Sam’s friends later in the night was also quite amusing. An English bloke who has been here for a dozen years who was possibly the tallest man I’ve ever met, and his friend who has been here a month and who is still sleeping on a blow up mattress. They were nice.
In addition, Sam and I also spent the night having a meal at The Balkan – too much protein is never enough, but truly tasty. We had also gone to Fruits in Suits, though we only stayed for a couple of drinks, deciding pretty quickly that “Gay Rotary” wasn’t that interesting after all. We’re just not really all that good at being “fruits in suits”.
But we had a good night, and that’s just about all that matters.
There was a brief moment tonight when I looked at my friend Kate with surprise/shock in my eyes. We were having a glass of wine at a rather crowded exhibition opening. It was one of those exhibition openings where it’s so crowded you barely have room to actually observe and appreciate the art on the walls. My friend is a life-long artist, curator and arts administrator, and so I was shocked when I thought she’d placed her empty wine glass on top of one of the works of art.
Although I’d had a fairly decent look at the paintings on the wall which I thought were nice, though not really to my taste, I hadn’t fully engaged with the “works” on the benches in the middle of the room. The works looked interesting, as they combined some lovely coloured patterns, and some small sticks were randomly placed on top of the work. Again, it wasn’t really to my taste, but I thought it looked interesting, as I observed them from the corner of my eye, but I still couldn’t believe Kate had just dumped her wine glass right on top of one of the works.
“I guess this is my first senior’s moment”, I thought to myself, when I suddenly realised the “art works” weren’t “art works” after all. The “canvas” was, in fact, butcher’s paper, and the purple colouring was probably where a beetroot dish had been. The small sticks? Tooth picks. “How embarassing!”, I thought to myself with a laugh. “I can’t wait to blog about being so stupid”, I told Kate.
After several weeks “in exile” I’m starting to re-emerge on the social scene. In addition to the weather being cold and wet on the weekend, I’ve also been fighting off some kind of bug. I’ve had a sore throat since Friday, and I spent most of Saturday, Sunday and Monday resting in bed. I took Monday off because, quite simply, I can’t afford to be sick later in the week. There’s a lot going on at work at the moment (as you’ll know if you follow the national and international news, with speculation about the health of Madiba/Mandela, as well as leadership of the Labor Party) which means I need to be healthy in the event of some breaking news.
On top of that, I’m heading to South Africa on Sunday. As a result of my appearance at Radio Days Europe a couple of months ago in Berlin, I’ve been invited to speak at a radio conference called Radio Days Jo’burg. I’ll be speaking about a range of things including audience and creativity, as well as the opportunities and challenges of digital radio broadcasting. I’m incredibly flattered and excited to have been invited, and I’m looking forward to it very much.
And how’s the timing with the now “critical condition” of Nelson Mandela? If he survives or not his current illness, it will be an amazing time to be in Johannesburg, I suspect.
The “social exile” of the last few weeks has also been time for me to recover my finances a little after this year’s trip to Europe. Now pretty much back on track, I’ve decided it’s time to leave the house again. As well as the exhibition opening tonight, I’m also going to the “Now Hear This” story-telling night on Wednesday, and on Thursday, I’m heading to a community radio birthday celebration, and then to a recording of “A Rational Fear” (a topical comedy programme currently running on RN/Radio National).
In most modern towns and cities, the higher you go, the more interesting the view. That’s not the case with Stockholm.
Stockholm is a low-rise city, and the best views, in my opinion, can be experienced just above the roof-line. The view from Katarinahissen near Slussen, for example, is terrific. In contrast, the view from Globen is too high, and too far away to gain a sense of either the city or the landmass.
Last year, I went on the excursion to the top of Globen, and found it more interesting to watch the workers remove the snow and ice from the top of the sports arena than to look out over Stockholm. I’m told the same thing is true of Kaknastornet.
But the Stockholm rooftop tour – Upplev mer (experience more) is in a whole class of its own. I read about it a year or so ago, and so when I planned this trip back to Stockholm, it was one of the first things I booked for. Put simply, it’s a 75 minute guided tour – with extensive historical background – from the rooftop of one of the buildings on Riddaholmen, one of the central islands of Stockholm.
Upplev mer – Stockholm rooftop tour
There was only four English speakers on the tour – an American couple, a young Czech woman living in Paris, and me – and so I think we had a more highly personalised, intimate experience than the larger German-speaking group just behind us. Our tour guide was excellent, by the way, sticking to a script, but also responding to our interests and more than happy to answer questions. She also had a nice sense of humour.
What was really great, though, was the view from just above the rooftop. You get a really great sense of the location of many of the city landmarks: where the Royal Palace sits, for example compared to Gamla Stan. We noticed the Royal Palace was flying the Swedish flag at half-mast, by the way, in recognition of the deaths in Oslo.
Upplev mer – Stockholm rooftop tour
You also get a great sense of the history of Stockholm as it unfolded, including some perspective on the reclaimed land that makes up part of the old town. On top of that, it was fascinating to look down on the construction works of the cross city tunnel.
I’m not afraid of heights in any way shape or form – I spent much of my childhood climbing on the roof of our house to “come down now” cries from my mother – and so I found it absolutely enjoyable. As you’re securely hitched to a safety wire, the risk of falling seems quite remote. However, I’d say if you do have a fear of heights you might find it a little confronting.
Bottom line though? One of the best tourism experiences I’ve enjoyed in Stockholm.
A few weeks ago, you may recall, I wrote about the Tree Removal Order posted on a number of older trees in my leafy inner city street. Although the reasons for the removal were clear, I was nonetheless sad to read the order. At the time, I wrote…
I’m lucky enough to live in a street with some beautiful big, and admittedly, old trees. They’re a pain in the arse during autumn and winter when they lose their leaves. But in summer, they come to life, and make the street in which I live a truly beautiful place to be. They also provide shade for the nearby children’s playground. And I guess that’s where the concern comes from – that one day they’ll fall over and cause injury.
On a “personal level”, I’ve “lived” with those trees for almost the entire time I’ve been in Sydney, which is now 17 years. I swear, as a boy from the bush, it’s the trees that have kept me “sane” through all these years. Whenever I’ve felt a little stressed, all I’ve needed to do was walk down the stairs, cross the road, and sit in the park. The trees have kept me “grounded”, you might say.
Anyway, this morning I woke to the sound of chain-saws. The removal had begun.
no images were found
Half-jokingly, I declared on Facebook this morning I was…
Feeling tempted to chain myself to one of the three beautiful old trees in my street being removed today.
In response, a friend posted
It would be in keeping with your northern NSW roots if you did James – Terania Creek being the birthplace of modern environmental activism. I’ll keep an eye out for you on ACA tonight!
By the time I arrived home tonight – it was dark, and so I couldn’t see all that well – one of the trees had begun to resemble an Easter Island statue.
Whaddya know… I’m card-on-nay too!