Work and Pub
Not much to say about the day. Went to work. Went to the pub. A nice day…
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Lyssna på radio över internet
As a child I was a keen listener to short-wave radio. I’d hazard a guess there’s a lot of people, these days, who have no idea what short-wave radio is. But as a child it was something almost magical which allowed me to connect with the rest of the world, thanks to a reasonably large antenna my dad helped set up.
My favourite station was Radio Nederlands in Hilversum, which I was lucky enough to visit a couple of years ago. Their programming was accessible, in English, but also slightly exotic for a young lad from country New South Wales.
I also listened to Radio Moscow and Radio Peking (as they called it then) as they both had strong transmitters which were, presumably targetted at South East Asia, but which also boomed in to Australia.
This childhood interest in radio, of course, led to a later career.
It’s been years since I’ve listened to short wave, now that streaming has well and truly overtaken it. But firing up the computer and setting up some kind of connection to my sound-system has always seemed to me like one step too many. I’ve wanted something that was a little more “home entertainment centre” for a while. Something with the wifi built in, and which didn’t require firing up the ‘puter.
So today, I bought an “internet radio”.I’ve been researching them for a while, but they’ve always been a little too expensive or a little too geeky to bother with until recently. As I weighed up my various options, I’d pretty much settled on a product from Logitech. Unfortunately none of the stores which claimed to have it had any in stock. Never mind, I thought, because the nice man at JB Hi-Fi had shown me another product.
It was about the right price – I didn’t want to spend a fortune on something which would stream most items at about 128k – and it was available. It’s a DGTEC DG-KW1005IR. Don’t bother googling it, as you won’t find much on the net about it. They’re selling them currently at JB Hi-Fi. It was easy to set up, sounds pretty good, and I was happy with it, except for one aspect: the website interface which allows you to register your radio, search for stations, and set up a bunch of shortcuts and favourites. You can do it on the radio, but it’s much easier via the site.
On page 23 of their manual, currently on their website, the process about how to “manage your stations” describes going to a website, registering the access code. Unfortunately when I entered my access code , I got this answer…. ”
The Access code you entered was not found. Please make sure that you have entered it correctly.
Your manual may be unclear. The steps to register are:
From the radio
1. From the Main Menu select ‘Internet radio’,
2. Select ‘Station list’,
3. Select the ‘Help’ directory
4. Select ‘Get access code’ item
5. Write down the access code – it is 7 digits.
6. Visit the site http://www.wifiradio-frontier.com/ to register
7. Click on the ‘New Member’ link, below the login section
8. Enter in the access code and a username and password to setup your login.
As I did everything correctly, and tried it several times, I rang their customer support centre today for some assistance. After some time searching for an answer to my question, the man who answered told me the product was 4 years old and no longer supported. He also told me he spoke to their development team and then told me “oh that’s never worked” (meaning the website interface).
Early this evening, I wrote the company a “please explain” note. Not to be deterred I tried a few more times with the same code. And then I did a complete power down reboot. And guess what? I got a new code and it worked. And so, now, I’m having a lovely Friday evening listening to Swedish radio. This is going to be an experiment in bandwidth, though, for sure.
My Sunday
I had to be at work this morning at about 7.30 to head out to the Royal Easter Show. I woke, of course, just after the alarm on my mobile phone went off at 6am. I only pressed the snooze button once and was up and ready for the world at about 6.15. Feeling good about life, I got up and went for a walk around the block, before returning home for a shower at about 7am. At about 7.20, I put a call in to my colleague June to tell her I’d be there in about 15 minutes, ahead of going out to Homebush. No answer. That’s odd, I thought, but I just assumed she must have been busy.
On getting into a cab I looked at the time on the clock. It was 8.30am. “I think you need to re-set your clock, mate, it’s the wrong time”, I said. To which he replied, “No no it’s right”. At that point I showed him my mobile phone with the time still clearly 7.30am. I then got on to June who also told me it was 8.30am, though another colleague Tim also insisted it was 7.30am. When it was clear to me it wasn’t, I rang Tim, urgently telling him we were bothan hour late.
Clearly both Tim and I were victims of the modern technological era. We both rely on our mobile phones as alarm clocks. And while the cleverness of our mobile phones acknowledged the whole world was changing back to regular standard time (and changed accordingly), they hadn’t realised in NSW our time change doesn’t happen for a further week.
In chatting to an older bloke – he would have been about 60 years old – he told me his son called him this morning asking him “dad what time is it?”. Clearly he was in the same boat and it wouldn’t surprise me if there were many other people who were late for work today. Early adopters and younger Australians beware – don’t rely too heavily on modern technology.
Anyway, it was a fun day at the Royal Easter Show, even if it was more work than pleasure today. With just a limited amount of time to wander and enjoy, I concentrated on my favourite exhibits – livestock and produce.
After walking around for a while I looked back at my mobile phone. In changing the time zone to accommodate the daylight saving time situation, some of calendar information (synched with Outlook and Google) is now inaccurate – shit – shit – shit, but at least I’ll be able to get up on time tomorrow. I hope.
Sat On My Lap
As Kate and I walked around the streets of Chippendale, we noticed posters featuring artwork by Luke Temby.
I noticed another one tonight as I came home from dinner at Emad’s on Cleveland Street.
The art group I belong to has bought a couple of works by Temby, and he has created this crazy kind of universe called Cupco. It was interesting to see his works out and about on the streets, as well as in the galleries.
Kate was into town for a couple of exhibitions, including one we saw together at Seymour Centre which focussed on Sydney experimental and electronic music of the early 1980s, as part of Sydney Festival. It was so-so.
But it was good to see Kate.
It was also a lovely dinner at Emad’s by the way, along with Colin and a couple of his friends. Colin used to work with the husband, and now, retired, he and his wife are having a whale of a time travelling the world “while they still can”.
We had just been to see “The Fabulous Frances Faye” downstairs at Belvoir Street.
I’d first heard about the show maybe six months ago when a cabaret-type I know came back from Adelaide raving about the show.
Fellow blogger, Yani, has also seen the show.
In that instance, Yani was the audience participation in the show, as was I tonight.
Prior to this, I’d heard the name Frances Faye before, but had no recognition of who she was.
Her connection with Australia, it seems, was a strong one, as she played here on many occasions, including her final performances on stage and television before she died.
The closest modern parallel, in some ways, would be Bette Midler. Not in a “Wind Beneath My Wings” sense, but in the sense of Bette’s cabaret act, combining strong showmanship, excellent musicianship, and a lovely bawdiness. And, back in 1960s Australia, she was apparently, popular with the gays.
The guy doing the show, Nick Christo, performs as Frances, though not in a frock. Dressed in a suit, he performs “a show” as Frances, seeking to capture the essence of her work, rather than engage in the art of female impersonation.
And he’s bloody fantastic. He’s a wonderful performer, who sings well, is comfortable in his body as he moves throughout the show, and who effortlessly takes you into the world of 1960s cabaret, epitomised by the likes of clubs like Chequers.
Towards the end, like Yani, I became the subject of a bit of audience participation as he sang and then sat on my lap.
It wasn’t an especially well-attended show, with an audience of maybe 40 downstairs at Belvoir. The audience was, however, enthusiastic, and there was a great buzz in the room. As everyone left there were smiles all round.
It was a wonderful show that’s opened my eyes to the work of the fabulous Frances Faye.
Mulberries, not Cherries
As a child, we had a mulberry tree in the backyard. It was not as good as the mulberry tree that Aunty Joanie had, though. Her tree was always full of large plentiful berries, whereas ours were never as good. Ours were more sour, and smaller. Or at least that’s how I remember them fifty years later.
On top of that, mum hated the mulberry tree because it would inevitably lead to stained clothing. As with mangos, mulberries were things you were allowed to eat on the back steps, but never inside the house.
And so it was with delight on my recent trip to Wagga to discover my friend Sue has a mulberry tree in her backyard. And it was FULL of mulberries.
“I’ve picked all the ones I can reach”, she said one day, pointing to the many mulberries on the three or four-metre tall tree she couldn’t reach. Below her, on the ground there were many other berries that had fallen from on high.
In the time I was there we enjoyed mulberry jam and mulberry pie, and there were also times when I just grabbed a handful and ate them as a snack.
She also has a cherry tree that was almost ready for harvest. Sadly, a bunch of visiting fruit-bats made their way to the tree one night while I was there, and removed virtually all of them. Thankfully, they weren’t fans of mulberries. More fool them.
Stockholm Pride Parade
“Stockholm Pride is more political and less humorous than Sydney’s Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, but it also seems more inclusive,” I explained to an Australian friend who has lived in Stockholm for 12 years.
“That’s not to say Sydney’s Mardi Gras isn’t political,” I added. “It is, but it’s usually expressed with humor and satire.”
Stockholm Pride is more explicitly political than many other Pride events. Most of the major political parties participate, and I even saw former Swedish Prime Minister Mona Sahlin marching. There is also a greater awareness of broader political issues beyond Sweden’s borders, which I appreciate. Organizers recognize that people in some parts of the world do not enjoy the same freedoms as LGBTQ+ people in Sweden.
It’s not only political, though, and there’s a fair bit of cross dressing and fun, colourful costumes.
Having seen a fair few of these types of parades over the years there’s not a lot that can shock or surprise any more. That said, the sight of a heavily tanned and reasonably overweight completely naked 60-something woman did kind of shock me. In the midst of all the glitter, there was someone completely naked walking down the street! After the shock wore off I was left with a feeling “good on her”, knowing I could never do anything like that myself.
I especially loved being able to watch the show with my friend Graeme who is here right now, along with Sandra and Robert.
Sandra is my “pen pal”, as we might have said thirty years ago before the internet. We’ve been following each other’s blogs for a couple of years now. We met last year in Sweden, and this year in Sydney. And once again now in Stockholm.
“They’re a really great couple”, I said to Graeme, as we bid Sandra and Robert a fond farwell later in the afternoon.
Mamma Mia Around Europe
Twelve months ago, as I was travelling overseas the film “Mamma Mia” had just opened. Everywhere I went, Mamma Mia seemed to be following me. It’s interesting how in some countries ABBA was the drawcard, in others it was the stage-show, in some it was the Hollywood cast, and in Hong Kong, it’s Tom Hanks as producer who gets top-billing. Meanwhile, the small Norwegian town of Narvik (near where Frida from ABBA was born) claimed to have the “World Premiere”.
