Here’s a song I heard while on holidays which I’ve been listening to a fair deal since I’ve been back. The song is by a French singer, Mylene Farmer. Without oversimplifying, think Madonna, think Kate Bush, think Kylie, think Tori Amos. This song was the first release from her current album which topped the French charts.
Dead sexy, eh? This afternoon I’ve been listening to the album nice and loud (not enough to disturb the neighbours) and dancing around the lounge room. Ain’t life great?
The only unfortunate thing is I’ve discovered I’ve turned into an “arms and hips dancer”. You know the look I mean? You have your arms stretched out right above your head while you shake your hips in time to the music. I’ll be wearing little shorts next…
Nooooooo……
Otherwise, it’s been a simple day relaxing after last night’s dinner party where we “literally” sat up til dawn chatting about life, the universe and everything. “Do you realise it’s 3am?”, I said at one point. “Ah well, let’s go and get some ciggies” was the response. I didn’t smoke.
We had our final Swedish class tonight (in the current series) and I feel a little bit sad. Although it’s sometimes been quite hard – especially some of the grammar – it’s also been quite fun, as I’ve got to know a little about the stories of those who are doing the course.
It’s the final class because our teacher, Marianne is headed overseas on Friday for her son’s wedding in England, to visit her daughter in Canada, and to spend some time in Stockholm. And that’s just the start of the disapora of our Swedish classes. Also going soon is a bloke who will lecture and study in Uppsala later this year.
Most of those doing the course, though, have been doing it for family reasons. Two of the blokes doing the course are going to Sweden to get married (we’ve helped one with his wedding speech). Two others, who are already married to Swedish-born women are also going there, one of them possibly permanently to raise their forthcoming child. Two of them women doing the course are also travelling for family reasons : one to met her step grand-children (she’s married to a Swede), and another to live with boyfriend, possibly permanently in Stockholm. Oh yes, and there’s the girl who is returning to live in Europe, whose family owns a summer house in the archiplego.
We shared some food and champagne tonight as a rite of passage, though I hope when I return and class resumes at an intermediate level, most of them will be back.
In the meantime, there’s an open invitation to attend the Swedish Mid-summer Celebrations in a couple of weeks time in French’s Forest. I’m definitely gonna go, ahead of a Roger Woodward concert later that afternoon.
I don’t get a lot of mail these days. With the exception of cards, everything personal comes via email. And I’ve managed to change most of my paper bills to electronic distribution. Most of my snail mail seems to consist of “official things” like development applications. I wonder when City of Sydney, which is very “environmental friendly” will move to electronic distribution of those? But tonight, as I came home there was something in my letterbox which gave me a smile.
Letter from the developers
It was a letter from someone who is planning to submit a development application. They were giving us a “heads up” about their forthcoming application, explaining they run a similar establishment in another residential area, and they’ve found early and regular engagement with the community has worked for them. It was a welcome change from the usual development application notice from City of Sydney which tells me such and such down the street plans to make an alteration to their bathroom.
More than the “heads up” notice, I was also pleased to see they’re planning a North African restaurant. Excellent. That’s just what Surry Hills needs. We have just about every type of cuisine you might imagine, and more than our fair share of Turkish, Lebanese and Indian, but there are some gaps, and I’m sure North African will be a welcome addition to the area.
Surry Hills must be the only place outside the former Soviet Union where people queue for bread.
Having lived in Surry Hills for fifteen years, it’s been fascinating to watch the changes. Fifteen years ago, Bourke Street and Crown Street were both two-way streets. We had a few restaurants, though nothing you’d get too excited about: mostly I’d wander up to Oxford Street if I wanted something special to eat. That, of course, was when Oxford Street was still reasonably lively with restaurants, and not just queues to get into nightclubs. Back then, the Surry Hills Mall was still called “The Redfern Mall”. It was in the days when The Clock Hotel still had a gay bar out the back – The Stronghold (known as The Stranglehold) – and a bottle-shop out the front. In fact, it was a bottle-shop where I once experienced an armed-robbery, something I’ve never told my family, since I know they would have worried.
These days, Surry Hills is all a bit gentrified. It’s all one way traffic and cycle-ways these days. And the shops have all changed. In the last couple of years, for example, the charcoal chicken shop, has closed, the regular bakery has moved to a cheaper location, and the Bourke Street bakery has moved in with its long queues on the weekend, and we now have more gourmet grocers than you could possibly imagine.
I still love the area. I love being close to work. I love the cultural diversity of the area. I love the sense of “history” you find as you walk around the area. And I love the street in which I live. It has a park. It has terrace houses. It has a couple of small apartment blocks. And since 2006, Lachlan Murdoch has been one of the neighbours, though I’ve yet to actually see him. And I love that, development application pending, we may soon have a North African restaurant, whatever that means.
The grass lawn outside Sydney’s “Museum Of Contemporary Art” is incredibly comfortable at the moment. So comfortable, in fact, that I fell asleep briefly there yesterday afternoon, enjoying the shade afforded, on another warm day in Sydney. Not as warm as other days, but warm enough. It was only the sunshine hitting my feet that woke me up, or I might still be there now.
What started as a Saturday afternoon walk down the street to grab a coffee, turned into a much longer walk to Circular Quay, stopping via the David Jones Food Hall for lunch, and eventually to the MCA where I snapped, these, my favourite works, from the visit.
Crutch Dance by Justene WilliamsManbuynga by Barayuwa Manunggur Native Gold by Danny Melor
I needed to be up early this morning – waking at 6 – to catch the train from Sue’s place into the city, and then out to the airport.
Six AM isn’t early I guess after years of waking early. But in my current job, I can usually sleep in a little later, since a lot of my attention is now focussed outside of working hours.
It was tough though, since it was very cold and dark in Melbourne this morning, and quite a contrast to when I arrived a few days ago.
As I recall, catching the bus FROM Melbourne Airport into the City a few days ago was quite good. Along the way, they played a video which featured advertisements for various attractions around Melbourne.
Watching the advertisements as I caught the same bus back to the airport wasn’t as much fun, and didn’t make much sense. Why were they advertising attractions in Melbourne to a group of people who were leaving?
And why did it have to be so loud at seven o’clock in the morning? Even with my headphones on with some thumping electronica at maximum volume, I could still hear the innane chatter of the television screen.
I was already a little grumpy having to get up so early to catch the bus. The sky was grey, and the weather was overcast and cold. In fact, I was colder this morning than any of the times I was in Sweden this year, except maybe for the day when I nearly got frostbite.
With one exception I think I must have looked like the woman from the “Melbourne Ad” a few years ago. It was the one in black and white where she walked around looking in shop windows with a sad expression on her face. “The only time she ever looked happy was in the cab back to the airport”, I’ve joked with friends over the years. The one exception was my four day growth.
I love flying with hand luggage only, though of course you need to compromise on some items including razor blades. Generally I don’t have much facial hair, so I attempted this trip as a non-shaving trip. Colleagues said I looked good with my “Melbourne Look” (black, leather, unshaven), though I just felt scruffy by the time I got to work this morning.
And I felt tired. Being away from home for four days can be quite exhausting. And even though I’m a champion sleeper, I was quite tired today. I hit the couch pretty soon after arriving home tonight.
The last couple of days have been incredible. Thanks to a combination of public transport and my mobility scooter, I’ve been able to visit places I haven’t been to in ages. Put simply, they were just too far for me to walk. Having the scooter now means I can finally go to those spots again without too much worry.
Lunch at Milsons Point
Yesterday, my first trip was to a restaurant at Milsons Point. It’s a place I go to every year with a group of current and retired colleagues. We have a wonderful lunch that lasts a few hours, where we solve the problems of the world and have a generally great experience. I look forward to it all year—in fact, we’ve already booked next year’s date!
Being able to use my scooter made the journey a breeze. I rode it to Central Station and caught the train. I did need some help getting on the train, as the gap between the platform and the carriage was a little too wide for me to easily cross. Instantly, one of the station staff saw me and organised a ramp. It was set up so quickly, and I was on the train in no time.
One slightly amusing thing I noticed as I was getting on was the announcement: “The train on Platform 18 is going to be three minutes late.” I immediately thought, ‘Oh yeah, that’s my fault!’ But the staff were truly awesome, wonderful, very helpful, and very kind—I really appreciated the assistance.
Before I left, they asked, “Where are you getting off?” I replied, “Milsons Point,” and they said, “No worries, that’s great.” As the train was coming in, I was amazed to see someone waiting with a ramp to meet me and help me off. Clearly, they had radioed ahead or whatever system they use to make that happen. It was a beautiful, seamless experience.
I arrived a little earlier than planned, so I headed down to the harbour. I went for a look around a small park nearby and just enjoyed being by the water—something I haven’t done for a while.
Coming back, I caught the ferry from Luna Park across to Circular Quay. It was a really easy trip. Thankfully, it wasn’t too busy, as sometimes those ferries can be packed, but the timing was perfect. From there, I was able to get the light rail all the way back home.
Bus Trip to Coogee
Today, I had a similar, very good experience when I caught a bus to Coogee. It’s a bus route I use from time to time, but it’s always been a bit of extra work when I’m walking. Using the mobility scooter and the bus to get there and back was fantastic.
As the bus arrived, I was able to hail the driver, who promptly pulled down the ramp. I rolled on, sat inside, and had a great trip. I wandered around for a while, got a nice milkshake, and looked at the ocean. It was incredibly busy at Coogee today—I don’t know if this is a typical summer’s day, but it was certainly a packed beach! I really enjoyed getting out there, soaking up some sunshine, and experiencing a bit of outdoor life.
The return journey was just as easy. The bus driver lowered the ramp, I got on, and it was all a very good experience.
From the team at Central Station who instantly organised a ramp to get me (and my scooter) onto the train, to the drivers who radioed ahead to ensure a staff member was waiting at Milsons Point to meet me, the service was seamless and kind. The bus driver to Coogee today was just as helpful, dropping the ramp quickly and making the whole trip stress-free.
These interactions truly highlight the value of having caring, professional people working on our transport network. It makes a world of difference for accessibility and simply getting around.
I’ve said this a couple of times, but I simply didn’t realise how revolutionary having this scooter could be for me in terms of individual freedom and the ability to get around.
I had a lovely surprise at work today, being presented with this autographed copy of the new book by Edmund White, an autobiography.
White had been in to work a few days ago and I’d mentioned to a colleague how much I’d enjoyed A Boy’s Own Story (and after that “The Beautiful Room Is Empty”) as a teenager living in a small country town in Northern NSW.
As the book deals with growing up gay, it was a crucial book to read at the age of sixteen or seventeen. I told my colleague who was about to interview White how important the book was for me, and how I’d read half the book in the local “Angus & Robertson” before I’d summoned up the courage to actually purchase it. I also remember in hindsight, the young man behind the counter telling me how much he’d enjoyed reading the book, and how much I’d also enjoy it, without realising what he was “really saying”.
“He’s outside, tell him”, my colleague urged me. “No, he’s heard this before, he wouldn’t care”. After a little urging, my colleague convinced me to go with him to meet White and to tell him the story of how important his book had been in my life, which, nervously, I did.
And that was it, or so I thought. Until today, when my colleague brought in this signed copy of his latest work.
Receiving this touched me in a number of ways: first, that White (who I admired immensely because of these books) could be bothered to do this. Second, that my colleague thought enough or me to either ask for this, or organise this. Nice stuff.
