Ikea at Rhodes is big. Really big. Much bigger than the one I used to have at nearby Moore Park.
I was so upset when Moore Park Ikea closed. It was so convenient, being only a ten minute walk from home. Getting to Rhodes was a far more complex affair, especially since there was track-work today.
I went there with a couple of goals in mind: to buy some household goods and to eat some “typically” Swedish food.
The meatballs were a bit of a disappointment to be honest, falling far short of the meatballs I enjoyed in Sweden, and most memorably at Skansen. For a start, the accompanying potato was mashed. And secondly, the meatballs were a little dried out, and definitely in need of that murky brown sauce and cranberries to make them edible. Yes, I knew it was always going to be the case, but I hoped nonetheless.
Still, I enjoyed some Marabou Chocolate which is the same all around the world, thank goodness.
After lunch I went in search of some new cutlery. That was all I wanted. Though of course I ended up buying some saucepans, a bedside light, and some some cards.
I also walked around practising my Swedish by saying as many words and names as possible outloud. Clearly, I have no shame anymore, or perhaps it’s confirmation I’ve joined the ranks of Sydney’s freaks err bohemians.
Ikea Sydney
As I’ve mentioned previously, I’m not a good shopper. In fact, I kinda loathe shopping. And after a while I had a minor panic attack. “Get out of here”, I thought to myself after about an hour or so of mindless consumerism.
Despite this, the whole experience remained wonderfully Swedish. Although the vast majority of shoppers were of Asian descent, I heard three or four people speaking Swedish which was kinda fun.
In particular, as I was looking at some of the Swedish food on the way out, I overheard three young people looking at the food and speaking in Swedish. “Jag har inte”, I heard one of them say, as he looked at the goods in the freezer. Literally it means “I have without”, but in this context it means something more poetic like “I miss them so much!”.
As I sat on the train station at Rhodes to catch the train back I thought for just a moment I was back in Sweden. It was modern and quite clean. The trains ran on time, though obviously less frequently. The colour scheme was the typically Swedish blue and yellow/gold. And it was surrounded by medium-high apartment blocks. For just a moment I was back at Solna Centrum in the dark suburbia of Stockholm. Of course, I was in Sydney’s equivalent.
“Are there drinks INSIDE the venue?”, I asked the person on the door at the Sydney Spiegeltent last night.
I was at the Entertainment Quarter for the “VIP Opening Night” of “Rouge”, described as “a non-stop celebration of the astonishing, surprising, provocative and supremely sexy: award-winning Australian circus”.
Having attended numerous VIP opening nights in the past, this one stood out immediately: the absence of any familiar celebrity faces. And the lack of free drinks and canapes. Deciding to engage with the mostly 20-something crowd gathering outside, I approached a group and, after securing their permission to hold my place in the queue, struck up a conversation.
They were very kind, and recognising my disability, asked if they could help in any way. I like that – not can we get you a chair – but asking me what help I might need. Within the group, I encountered a person I would describe as “gender fluid,” confidently walking with a stick. Our eyes exchanged a sense of acknowledgment, recognising common connections in both gender/sexuality and disability. However, my excitement was short-lived when I overheard someone mentioning that it was the “final night” of the show. A quick check of my ticket revealed my embarrassing mistake—I had arrived a week early, having misentered the date in my calendar.
Rogue at Sydney Spiegeltent
Reflecting on the day, I had earlier messaged my friend who was meant to accompany me, only to learn she was at the airport en route to Adelaide. Chalking it up to her busy schedule, I dismissed it as a one-off occurrence—much like a previous incident when I showed up a day early for a dinner.
Though I felt a bit stupid at the time, I was reassured by another friend who, mentioning her husband said, “Now I can tell Ross it’s not just me”. #notaseniorsmoment
Despite being all dressed up with nowhere to go, I contemplated staying at the Entertainment Quarter for a drink and a bite to eat. However, the noise and crowd proved overwhelming, prompting a change of plans. I opted for a taxi ride to Taylor Square, exploring the venues along Oxford Street.
Yes, it’s quite casual for a VIP Opening Night, but I thought it was nice and colourful nonetheless. In the taxi, headed to Oxford Street.
Though it’s often said by older people that younger people are glued permanently to their mobile phones, it wasn’t much better at venues there, where I saw table-loads of 50-somethings doing exactly the same. Though I understand why you might check your mobile when you’re out with friends, to order a taxi, or check a calendar entry, or to show them some photographs, I don’t understand it when I see groups of friends out together, all of them looking constantly at their mobile phones. It’s as if they’re saying to their friends, “You’re boring, my phone is more interesting”.
Luckily, I’d taken my “Diabetes Kit” with me, so I rounded off the night with a meal at a Mexican restaurant on Crown Street.
My sugar levels were good last night, but when I woke this morning they were low. Very low. Throughout the day I’ve been fairly sick. In the same way I was several weeks ago, feeling fatigue, light-headed and vomiting, due to the diabetes. Thankfully, my neighbour was able to help with a visit to the chemist, as I was worried about leaving home. Tonight my sugar levels are high, much higher than I would like them to be, so I’m doing a few things I know will help, including a bit of exercise and drinking lots of water. Hopefully, by morning things will be better. I’m already feeling much better than I have for most of the day.
I really want to feel better, as I have a busy week coming up. I go to work on three days. I have visits by my physiotherapist, my cleaner, and my support worker. I also have a few night-time excursions, including two visits to the State Library: one is a talk featuring, amongst others the journalist Peter Greste, and other is the 100th Birthday Party for ABC Radio Sydney. And then on the weekend, I’m meeting a bloke I have chatted to on a disability Facebook group (he has cerebral palsy), I’m catching up with some friends for lunch, and DEFINITELY next Sunday night, I’m going to a “VIP opening night”.
“I was about to send out a search party…” I said to Michaela, remarking on the amount of time I had to wait for her at a restaurant/bar at Coney Island. As the day was warm, and there was a lengthy queue for tables, she suggested I went inside to grab a table while she waited for our orders. “The waitress dropped them, and they had to start all over again”, was the explanation offered as to why we had to wait to so long.
Really? Yes, really. I know America has a reputation for good customer service. The rationale offered is that with a “tips” system you’re supposed to get better service, but I have encountered some pretty average customer service on this trip. “Why don’t they just pay them properly…” I have been saying throughout this trip, probably reflecting my deep misunderstanding of US culture.
Was the food worth the wait? To be honest, it was, possibly, the most expensive, worst food I’ve ever had in my life. Nine dollars for four deep-fried prawns failed to satisfy my lunch-time yearnings. “Maybe we should have waited around the hot-dog eating contest”, I joked, referring to the annual contest at Coney Island.
Coney Island is massive. Really massive. Much larger than I expected. Impressive, too. Though for the day, Coney Island (the fun park) wasn’t our destination. Neither of us had much interest in roller-coasters. We were there for a swim, and a visit to the nearby Russian area known as Little Odessa (which I absolutely loved).
As it was a warm day, and I have fair skin, I took a seat at a nearby bar while Michaela went into the water. “Do you want to go on that ride…?” I heard the woman seated next to me at the bar ask her husband. They were on their honeymoon. For a moment, he paused and then said “No”. A few minutes later, she pointed to another ride and asked the same question. He paused. Looked up, pointed to a ride, and said, “You mean that one…?”. Once again, he paused and said “No. How about we go on the ride that involves sitting at a bar, moving slowly, and importantly staying close to the ground…?”
“OMG, he’s afraid of heights”, I thought to myself. “He wouldn’t like the Empire State Building”, I thought to myself, which was my other big adventure for the day.
As I was escorted to the very front of the lengthy queue to the first lift of the building, I felt a slight sense of guilt. “Come this way Sir”, I was told, which involved walking past literally hundreds of people, as the only person in a single “VIP Queue”. Fearing there WOULD be lengthy queues, I paid an extra $20 for such entrance. It’s definitely worth paying extra if you can afford to, as the sense of guilt disappeared pretty quickly though, as within less than fifteen minutes from arriving at the Empire State Building I was on the outside balcony looking over New York.
And what a view it offers in all directions, though it’s probably the view towards Central Park that offers the most. I arrived before sunset, which seemed to be a reasonably quiet time, actually, and spent about two hours wandering around the viewing deck. By around 8.30, though, the crowds had begun to build again (presumably parents had taken their children home for dinner), and by that time I’d probably also had “enough”.
As I waited for a meeting today at work, I flicked through a copy of the current edition of the Sydney Morning Herald’s “Sydney” magazine. “Gosh that looks like Stockholm”, I thought to myself as I flipped the pages. And then, of course, saw the name of the shop and realised it probably was. Södermalm?
I have family visiting from Lismore, and today, I was granted a “day pass” from the hospital to spend a few hours with them, heading into the city. Besides enjoying their company, I was eager for a much-needed haircut and a break from “hospital food.”
To prepare for the outing, I spent a significant amount of time last night scouring Google Maps, particularly the “Street View” feature. Being able to see both exterior and interior photos of various places greatly helped the decision-making process, now that I am currently using a wheelchair.
Locating a wheelchair-accessible hairdresser or barber near St. Vincent’s Hospital was quite challenging: either they had a step or two to get over (and my wheelchair skills aren’t quite paralympic), or they were too expensive. After thorough research, I settled on Oxford Barber, on Crown Street (near the corner of Oxford Street).
“You’re the only place I could find with easy wheelchair access”, I told the barber. He mentioned that he had three regular clients in wheelchairs, so it didn’t phase him. “Do you want to stay in the wheelchair or get into the barber’s chair”? he asked. When I said we should try for the barber’s chair, he knew the drill. Smooth as. I’ll definitely return.
Oxford Barber, Crown Street, Darlinghurst
Not far from there, we had lunch at “The Riley” (formerly known as “The Brighton”). Clear wheelchair symbols are displayed outside. Access involved passing through the poker machine room and entering the bar through an automatic sliding door. Inside, the tables were initially set high, but the bar staff promptly provided a lower table for us. I’ve dined there a few times previously and have always relished the food. Today, I opted for a steak. And yep, I’ll be back based on today’s experience.
Our interactions with a bus driver were less than positive. As I signaled for the driver to deploy the wheelchair ramp, I noticed him mouth the words “oh, fuck.” Then when I told him our desired destination, only a few stops up the road he responded with, “You do know that other buses travel in that direction, right?” As my focus was primarily on safely boarding the bus, I let it go. However, Michelle and Karran were understandably irritated. Although he did assist with the wheelchair, his attitude left something to be desired. While I refrained from reporting the incident, perhaps I should have?
Navigating the city proved to be relatively smooth, allowing us to easily access shops like ALDI, OfficeWorks, H&M, and Sapporo. On Facebook, I joked that Michelle and Karran had “taken me hostage” as they explored makeup and cosmetics at Sephora. But I came into my own at H&M. Even though I possess an abundance of clothing at home, I indulged myself with a new polo shirt, shorts, and underwear.
I recognize that my perspective may seem naive, particularly to those who have lived with mobility challenges for a more extended period. I’m still relatively new to this experience. I’m gradually comprehending the extent of research and planning that people in wheelchairs often need to undertake.
Throughout our city excursion today, my attention was drawn to fellow wheelchair users, leading me to ponder how they manage their daily lives.
It has been seven weeks since I was admitted to the hospital. Sharing my first public outing with cherished family members, who have provided unwavering support both physically and emotionally over the past couple of months, was an absolute delight.
A few weeks ago, I sat down with actor Adam Bowes. https://adambowes.wixsite.com/actor We immediately bonded over our shared roots on the New South Wales North Coast, though our experiences of limb difference look very different: while I experienced limb loss later in life, Adam was born with a limb difference and underwent amputations at a very young age. It was a wonderful conversation, and the audio will feature in The Limb Shift podcast when it launches later this year.
For Australian actor and former competitive swimmer Adam Bowes, the journey of navigating life with limb difference has been one of constant adaptation, and a persistent drive to ensure that disability is seen as a facet of humanity, rather than a defining spectacle.
Born with congenital bilateral tibial hemimelia—a condition where the tibia bone is absent—Adam’s life was shaped by an early, life-altering decision. Because his legs were turned inward and he lacked the tibia bone, he faced a stark choice between a lifetime of wheelchair use or amputation to enable the use of prosthetic legs.
“They basically said, you’ll either need to be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life, or have them amputated so you can wear prosthetic legs,” Adam explains. “I had them amputated when I was two,” Adam adds, noting that while the decision was his parents’ to make, the focus immediately shifted to finding solutions.
Growing up in the NSW coastal town of Yamba, Adam found a community that embraced him, though his relationship with his physical self and the world around him was an evolving process.
While his childhood was marked by intense physiotherapy and the tricky business of learning to walk on prosthetics—a process he describes as “essentially like learning how to walk again” every time he receives a new set—Adam eventually found his rhythm.
Initially scared of the water, he discovered a passion for swimming that led him to break seven Australian records and compete at the Youth Paralympics in 2009.
“It really made a difference,” Adam says of his time at the Paralympics. “Feeling less alone… that was really, I think, something I really needed to feel”.
This community was vital, as Adam notes that growing up, meeting others with similar disabilities was a foreign experience until he reached that level of competition.
That sense of belonging propelled him toward his true calling: acting. After training at Screenwise, he landed roles in major productions like Hacksaw Ridge and Winchester.
His transition from the pool to the stage and screen was not without its hurdles, particularly in musical theatre where choreography required him to calculate movements in advance to accommodate his prosthetics.
While he has played characters whose disability was central to the story, he is increasingly focused on roles where the character’s identity transcends their physical reality.
“I certainly don’t just want to play my disability,” he says. “I don’t want that. I love playing characters. And that’s… one of my values is trying to find the humanity in these characters”.
Adam’s commitment to authentic representation recently brought him to the set of Home and Away, where he played a character in a rehabilitation ward. For Adam, the opportunity was particularly meaningful given his frustration with past media tropes—specifically, seeing able-bodied actors playing characters with disabilities.
He recalls watching Glee and feeling “incredibly heartbroken” during a dream sequence where Artie, a character in a wheelchair, stood up and performed a dance number. Because the actor was actually able-bodied, the experience was deeply painful for Adam.
“It really hurt watching that because it meant that representation wasn’t authentic,” Adam reflects. “I think that was a bit of the fire that came into wanting to showcase my disability on screen, on stage, whatever it might be, because there will always be a person out there who wants to see themselves being represented so they don’t feel alone”.
His work on Home and Away was a collaborative effort, with the production team actively seeking his input to ensure the script and the character’s physical journey were genuine. He felt true support on set, noting that even within the fast-paced environment of a long-running series, he felt empowered to offer feedback to make his character’s experience more authentic.
Adam Bowes on Home & Away 2026
Today, married to his high school girlfriend, and as a father to a young son, Adam continues to balance his career with the realities of living with an amputation. He speaks openly about the “dark places” that can come with the physical and mental toll of disability, stressing that self-compassion is essential.
In his personal life, he enjoys sweet moments with his son, who helps him with his daily routine, including applying stickers to his prosthetics.
When asked about the biggest lessons he would pass on to others, Adam emphasises self-care.
“Never neglect yourself,” he advises. “Be caring and loving to other people, but don’t forget to love yourself. I feel like that’s something I have to keep reminding myself is to be, you need to be kind to yourself. And just remember to spread the love and own the love at the same time”.
As I sipped on my glass of red wine, I looked around last night at the people in Canberra’s Bar Rochford. They were all well dressed, and aged late 20s to late 30s, and they were probably working in the public service, or in politics, I concluded, without any real basis for making such a judgement.
I wondered, for a moment, about whether or not I would have been one of these people, albeit twenty years ago. As I recall, I sat the public service exam, though I don’t recall what happened next, as my heart pursued a career in radio instead. With an interest in politics and policy, I could quite well have become a senior public servant by now. Maybe I would have ended up in foreign affairs or something like that? Anyway, it was just a brief moment of reflection as I sipped on a glass (actually two) of excellent French wine.
It was the second time this week in Canberra where I’ve been in a bar (and I’ve only been here since Tuesday night). On Tuesday night, I caught up with a former colleague, now working in commercial radio here. It was terrific to reflect on old times, and to catch up on where our lives are up to now.
Otherwise, it’s been work, hotel, work, hotel for most of the time I’ve been here. And that’s fine, because I’m really enjoying the work, and I’m really enjoying Canberra. I’m dividing my time roughly half the week here, and half the week back home in Sydney.
And earlier in the week, I needed to be home. It’s now compulsory to have safety locks on all apartment windows in NSW, where it’s possible a child could fall and possibly be killed. In my apartment block, there are 32 apartments, which kept a couple of blokes awfully busy for a couple of days.
For me, it meant working from home, as I awaited “my turn”. This was totally awesome because a) I got so much more work done b) the line between what I wore to bed the previous night and what I wore to “work” the following morning was “somewhat blurred” and c) I got to have lunch at my favourite local restaurant. Work/life balance, for sure.
Next week in Canberra? There’s a good chance of snow, apparently.
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marabou! that’s it -thanks for reminding me. yeah such a hassle out at rhodes…
I’d always wondered about the food being so cheap and all…
the swedish are very patriotic aren’t they- stockholm pretty boy actually went around with a blue top and yellow scarf!LOL
Hmmm… there have to be better places in Sydney to eat Swedish Food. I don’t know much about Swedish Food but I’m sure you can get better in a Servo in Sweden than in the IKEA at Homebush.
Mscherry – yes the chocolate is great isn’t it? At least I didn’t wear my Sverige shirt. That would have confirmed me as a total freak and not just a minor freak.
Tom – yes, there’s a Swedish restaurant at Newtown I’ve been thinking of trying. But no, I’m not sure if I agree with you about getting better food at a Swedish food. Swedish servo food is totally appalling.
Your love for Sweden reminds me so much of my love for Australia. It makes me kind of sad. It reminds me of those first few months after I came home.
Were you in Sweden a long time? How did you become interested in it? Do you miss it a lot? Please ignore my questions if they’re too intrusive. I tend to be a bit nosy.
We have a trip to IKEA on our list for this week. Lots of little things needed for the house. And if the Swedish restaurant in Newtown is run by the Swedish couple who used to do the food at The Hampshire on Parramatta Rd, Camperdown you’d be on to to a good thing. Their food was marvellous. The meatballs were done with lingonberries and cream sauce. They went into catering when the Hamp was done up about 7-8 years ago, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had since opened a restaurant.
Dina – it all came from the ABBA thing and it’s been a slippery slope ever since. I don’t exactly know why but I kinda “get” the Swedes. And I don’t think I miss Sweden, but I do want to some further exploration. In the back of my mind is a plan to live there for a year in 2010 or 2011, depending on what happens with my career/work, and whether or not I can become sufficiently fluent in Swedish.
MH – I checked out one place on the net tonight called The Gourmet Viking and it seems more “Danish” than “Swedish” actually. I’m struggling to remember the name of the other place I read about at the end of last year. At any rate, The Gourmet Viking was closed tonight. But somewhere on my agenda this month is a little more Swedish cuisine, of a higher quality than that served at Ikea.
marabou! that’s it -thanks for reminding me. yeah such a hassle out at rhodes…
I’d always wondered about the food being so cheap and all…
the swedish are very patriotic aren’t they- stockholm pretty boy actually went around with a blue top and yellow scarf!LOL
Hmmm… there have to be better places in Sydney to eat Swedish Food. I don’t know much about Swedish Food but I’m sure you can get better in a Servo in Sweden than in the IKEA at Homebush.
Mscherry – yes the chocolate is great isn’t it? At least I didn’t wear my Sverige shirt. That would have confirmed me as a total freak and not just a minor freak.
Tom – yes, there’s a Swedish restaurant at Newtown I’ve been thinking of trying. But no, I’m not sure if I agree with you about getting better food at a Swedish food. Swedish servo food is totally appalling.
Your love for Sweden reminds me so much of my love for Australia. It makes me kind of sad. It reminds me of those first few months after I came home.
Were you in Sweden a long time? How did you become interested in it? Do you miss it a lot? Please ignore my questions if they’re too intrusive. I tend to be a bit nosy.
We have a trip to IKEA on our list for this week. Lots of little things needed for the house. And if the Swedish restaurant in Newtown is run by the Swedish couple who used to do the food at The Hampshire on Parramatta Rd, Camperdown you’d be on to to a good thing. Their food was marvellous. The meatballs were done with lingonberries and cream sauce. They went into catering when the Hamp was done up about 7-8 years ago, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had since opened a restaurant.
Dina – it all came from the ABBA thing and it’s been a slippery slope ever since. I don’t exactly know why but I kinda “get” the Swedes. And I don’t think I miss Sweden, but I do want to some further exploration. In the back of my mind is a plan to live there for a year in 2010 or 2011, depending on what happens with my career/work, and whether or not I can become sufficiently fluent in Swedish.
MH – I checked out one place on the net tonight called The Gourmet Viking and it seems more “Danish” than “Swedish” actually. I’m struggling to remember the name of the other place I read about at the end of last year. At any rate, The Gourmet Viking was closed tonight. But somewhere on my agenda this month is a little more Swedish cuisine, of a higher quality than that served at Ikea.