As I’ve got a friend visiting for the weekend, I spent a few hours tonight trying to transform my house from its normal messy self into something more socially acceptable.
In the process – and in somewhat of a hurry – I took a bag of garbage downstairs.
Almost as soon as the door slammed shut, I knew I’d left the keys inside. Shit, I thought to myself.
But having been locked out before, I knew all I had to do was located the set of keys I normally keep at work.
The last time I locked myself out, it was beyond my control.
From time to time I sleep-walk, and sometimes occasionally I’ll wake up.
The last time I locked myself out was such an occasion. Thankfully I was wearing boxers, so waking up when the door slammed shut wasn’t as embarassing as it could be.
Still, I found myself at four o’clock in the morning wearing nothing but boxers, and locked out of my house.
A walk to a nearby phone booth, a request for a connect-call through Telstra (explaining the circumstance of why I had no money), and a lock-smith was at my door reasonably quickly.
I’m sure it’s not the first time he’d seen a man locked out of his house wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
Ever since then I’ve kept a spare set of keys in a special place at work which I know I can access 24×7.
So I turned up at work, explained the situation, and the security allowed me in.
It’s just as well, because I have a mate visiting for the weekend. And his arrival pretty much co-incided with my return home with a set of keys.
“Meet you at The Dolphin”, he said when I explained my circumstance.
So, at about 11.30 I walked up the road to “The Dolphin”.
“Sorry, it’s after 11.30. We’re closing at 12.00, and no one is allowed in after 11.30”, the bouncer explained to me and several others seeking entry. Unlike the others who were reasonably pissed, I was stone cold sobre, and after the drama of locking myself out, catching a bus to and from work, to locate my spare keys, I was pretty desperate for a drink.
“I can’t come in”, I tried to explain over the phone, though it was too noisy inside to convey the information, and so i sent a text instead.
Finally, we met and made our way towards Oxford Street and for a drink at Stonewall Hotel, where the crowd remains incredibly young. Thankfully, in the group of people I was out with, one of them had his dad visiting from Germany, and so I didn’t feel like I was the oldest person in the room.
There was much music, stories, and vodka and sodas to be enjoyed. And then finally, off to bed.
All in all, not a bad end to a night which started off quite badly.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight. You look fantastic” is the most common phrase I’ve heard this year, usually followed shortly afterwards by a secondary question, almost whispered, “You’re okay, aren’t you?”. “Yes I’m OK”, I’ve told lots of people this year, as they’ve queried my weight loss. Although not as much as I’d hoped, I’ve slimmed down a bit this year thanks to the combination of “low levels of exercise, sensible eating, and a reduced level of alcohol consumption”.
Magic eh? I haven’t changed my lifestyle in any kind of radical way, I’ve just been a little more “sensible”. The result is I’m now down to about 75-78kg which is still overweight for someone my height, but getting much closer to what I should be. Hey, I remember being over 100kg only a few years ago. So it’s definitely a year for celebration in that part of my life. I guess part of the reason I’ve also lost weight this year was that I took a few months off work to travel to Sweden, Iceland, Germany, The Netherlands, Denmark and Turkey.
This was my fourth trip to Stockholm in five years. Every visit seems to get a little longer. I’ve concluded I’ve “lived” in Stockholm for about six months over the last five years. Although I still haven’t met my goal of living in Stockholm for an extended period, I feel like I’m getting there incrementally.
Having experienced a bit of winter, two summers, and two springs, I’ve concluded May is probably the best month of the year in Stockholm. There’s a wonderful optimism about the place, thanks to the warmer weather.
Although I love snow and ice, the period between the winter months and the warmer months (when everyone leaves for a few weeks), is definitely a very liveable period there. While there I developed a lovely routine, as I was able to stay in apartments (thanks to airbnb). It was a really relaxing period for me. I loved it very much, as you’ll see if you read some of my blogposts from this time. I’m toying with the idea of heading to Stockholm Pride in 2014, and maybe an adventure further up north.
Anzac Day in Turkey – Looking out to the TV sceens with the cliffs in the background.
As I wrote at the time…
There was a point half way through the day when I couldn’t stop giggling. Along with the rest of the tour group, I was standing on a beach on the south east coast of Iceland. We were all very cold and it was snowing. The on-line brochure and accompanying research I’d done before-hand suggested clear blue skies as a backdrop to viewing a series of large basalt structures in the ocean. As we stood there, peering out through the snow, and desperately trying not to fall over (due to the wind gusts), I kept thinking how wonderfully ridiculous it all was.
This year I also went to my first ABBA Day in Europe and to the Official Opening of the ABBA Museum in Stockholm, both of which were memorable moments, and which I wrote about in the ABBA Magazine and spoke about on ABC Radio on several occasions.
ABBA Quiz Winners
Fireworks for the ABBA Museum Opening
A few months later I travelled to South Africa, where I was invited to speak at a radio conference at the Wits University. It was a really interesting time to be there, as it was the time when the health of Nelson Mandela really plumetted. Indeed, there was a general belief in South Africa at the time he had already died and was being kept alive artificially. In many ways, it was a life changing experience, as I got to meet and chat with locals there, and gain an insight into their lives which went beyond what I read about and watch through the prism of journalists. As I blogged at the time…
Interview with Mo-G at Kaya FM in Johannesburg
“We still live with apartheid”, the bloke in the bar told me. He told me of the sadness he felt that the man who parked his car for him tonight was old enough to be his father. “I’m doing fine because I went to university, but these people are still recovering financially from all of those years.”, he said. When I asked him how long it would be before the years of inequality would be left behind he told me he didn’t know, though conceding it would be decades, not years. Both he and my driver expressed concern about what might occur in South Africa following the death of Nelson Mandela. My driver, in particular, told me he thought there would be some blood-shed. His argument was Mandela was the uniting force which held the nation together amidst long-running arguments. In stark contrast, I’ve also been advised these kind of arguments are somewhat alarmist, since Mandela hasn’t been a major public force in South Africa for at least a decade. When I asked the bloke in the bar tonight why he thought Mandela was being kept alive, he was at first taken aback. “How do you know he’s dead?”, he asked me with a wry smile. When I told him that’s what all of the papers are now saying, he told me no one is really willing to say that publicly here. Both he and my driver told me they thought the key issue was an argument amongst Mandela’s children and grandchildren over both property (there’s a photograph in particular that’s worth a lot of money, apparently) and about where Mandela should be buried. There’s a complicated story about how one of Mandela’s grandchildren has exhumed the bodies of three of Mandela’s children and moved them to his own property. There’s a legal battle underway about this, and I guess in the background to there’s an underlying concern about who will “own” Mandela’s body when he dies.
Did I mention I also met a really nice bloke there? :)
My friend Sue came along with me for two or three weeks of my trip to Europe and remarkably we didn’t kill each other. I say that with humour, as there’s always the potential for conflict when friends and family travel together. We also travelled together to Tasmania, and we’re planning a trip to China together in May. The fact we didn’t want to kill each other means we obviously have a friendship that’s matured and firmly cemented itself over the thirty-something years we’ve known each.
Other friendships haven’t gone so well, and later in the year, a friend and I had a “discussion” about how our friendship had changed/disintegrated over the last year or so. That happens, I guess, over time. I guess part of the problem is that we’re both a little “high maintenance” and maybe a little bit “on the spectrum” in many ways. Hopefully 2014 will be better.
Robert and Sandra
As part of my travel, I also got to know Robert and Sandra who live in Stockholm a little better. We’ve been internet buddies for about three or four years now. As I spent a lengthier period of time in Stockholm this year I got to know them better and concluded pretty quickly, “I really, really like these guys”. Long distance friendships aren’t easy for me. I’m not one for chit-chat. I’m not very good on the phone and in email. And I really don’t like (or use) Facebook, but hopefully one day we’ll be living in the same city. Maybe Stockholm? Maybe Sydney? Actually, they’ll be in Sydney in February, which I’m looking forward to.
For the first time in a number of years I haven’t gone home for Christmas. This year I just didn’t feel like it. Also, I figured that since I took three months off work this year, it was my time to stay in Sydney and look after things at work. Thankfully, it hasn’t been too hectic, as the weather has remained fairly mild, and all was good, as I’d done a fair bit of preparation for the holiday period. And so as I approach 2014, there’s no sense of “end of year panic” for me, thankfully. It’s been a difficult year for my family in Lismore in many ways I won’t go into here. But on Christmas Day, as we did a Skype call together, things seemed to be a little more positive. Michelle is heading off on her first overseas holiday (aged 40) to Thailand. Karren is pregnant with her second child. Pat has now officially retired, and Nancy is in much better spirits after an operation to solve several years of pain. I’m desperately hoping things will be better in 2014.
For about a month this year, I got excited about the idea of doing some online dating. I’ve tried this before, concluding a lot of the gay dating sites are about sex hookups or are full of people with unrealistic expectations. I once did an internet date where I felt I was being “interviewed” for the position of boyfriend. Yeah, I know they work for a lot of people, but I haven’t had much success previously. So I tried rsvp. Once again, I’ve come to the conclusion “it’s not them, it’s me”, as I found myself pretty underwhelmed. I’m not very good at small chat, and that’s what I think you need to be able to start off with for internet dating. I’m concluding that, if I’m to meet someone, it’ll probably be through someone I know already, or maybe someone through work. Though I’m always reminded of a former manager who told me, “You don’t get your milk where you get your bread…” Think about it. Not that I’m desperate to meet someone.
My friend Michaela (with whom my friendship has deepened this year) and I have chatted about this a few times this year. We’re both in our 40s, both single. We’ve both noticed a lot of our friends who’ve recently partnered have begun to patronise us with statements about how we “Shouldn’t worry as we’ll soon meet someone”. Although I know what they’re saying – it gets increasingly harder to meet someone as you get older – I’ve concluded being in a relationship isn’t the be all and end all of my life. I’ve also reached the point where I’ve concluded I won’t have kids, and there’s a possibility I won’t have a relationship. But I’ve also concluded there are lots of other ways of living the second half of your life that don’t involve either. But hey, if Fred Nile can meet someone at eighty, there’s hope for the rest of us. :)
As I read back on these “Year In Review” posts over the last decade or so, I note there’s a theme. Each year it seems I write something about how terrible my life is (in some ways), and how fantastic it is (in other ways). The truth is – I have a truly blessed life. Although there are negative things which I reflect on (probably) far too much, there’s so much that’s good in my life. As I approach 2014, I think it’s time for me (finally) to stop reflecting on the negative and start thinking more about the positive, and to definitely avoid that 48 Crash that Suzi Quatro once sang about.
I turned 48 this year, and as Suzi Quatro reminds all of us celebrating their 48th birthday this year… crash crash, forty-eight crash.
As I walked home tonight and looked up at the sky, the light caught my eye. The photograph here probably doesn’t capture it, as it was taken on my mobile phone. Perhaps a bit of photo-shopping might help? Wot evah, it was a lovely afternoon, nonetheless.
According to the weather man on Channel 10, it was still 26 degrees when I arrived home. How cool is that?
As I wandered home, I couldn’t stop thinking about a conversation I had today with someone I know. We hadn’t spoken for quite some time, and so I asked her how her recent live-in-relationship had gone. She told me things hadn’t worked out which is a shame, because she’s a really great chick.
When I mentioned how much I sometimes wonder if I’d become “too set in MY ways” there was instant recognition on her face.
I’d like to say something and such and such about the pathways in our lives, though I’m not sure what.
My social life goes through fits and starts. There are some weekends when I have absolutely nothing to do. I sit in the house, twiddle my thumbs, and regret the inactivity. Other weekends I go from event to event.
Friday night was more of the latter than the former, as there were three functions I’d planned to go to. There was the general christmas party in the television studio, another christmas party, and a farewell party for a colleague and friend who was leaving. I made it to two of the three parties which I thought was a fine effort.
As as few of us travelled between parties we came to a conclusion: music can either make or break a party.
Last year’s Christmas Party was fun, but not as much as fun as this year’s simply because the music was so incredibly good this year. Last year, the dance floor was empty for much of the evening. This year it was busy from very early in the evening.
“You know what the music reminds me of?” a colleague said to me at one point. I looked her straight in the eyes and said “The Exchange Hotel mid 90s” and she burst into agreed laughter. Minutes later, as MC Hammer came on with “You Can’t Touch This” I was taken back to the weekly disco at The Vines at The Berri Hotel in South Australia.
It’s amazing how music can take you back to a particular place and time, isn’t it?
I think I developed a slight crush on one of the DJs as he appeared to channel for a while my entire musical collection from the mid 80s to the mid 00s.
Even though it’s an absolutely beautiful day, and I know I should be outside, I’ve just woken up from a brief afternoon nap. I was up reasonably early (for a Sunday), as I had to go to Tamarama this morning for “Sculpture By The Sea”. On top of a reasonably late night last night, I found myself a little tired by the time I arrived home at about one o’clock. Walking in the door, I took off most of my clothes and headed straight for the couch. Ah, don’t you love Sundays?
Life’s funny, though, isn’t it? You can spend weeks on end with nothing terribly much happening in your life, and then suddenly you find yourself with hardly enough time to scratch yourself. This week, for example, I’ve been to see the new Brad Pitt film (Wednesday), the launch of the Sydney Festival at the Opera House (Thursday), drinks with Laura who is back from London (Friday), and to see the play, “Holding The Man” with my friend Sue, who is visiting from Melbourne (Saturday).
I got a phone call from Michaela on Tuesday, I think, asking me if I wanted to see the new Brad Pitt film, for which she had won some tickets. Aware that I had a fairly busy week, I ummed and ahhed for a while, until I finally thought to myself, “ah buggar it”, I’ll just go anyway. In this film Brad Pitt “returns to arthouse” (as Michaela put it), playing the American outlaw, Jesse James. Aside from the many cinematic references to Jesse James over the years, I wasn’t overly familiar with his story, aside from a vague understanding he was their equivalent to Ned Kelly. Unlike Kelly, however, James was shot dead by a member of his own gang. And while much of the film is about James himself, it’s also about the man who shot him, speculating on the reasons why it occured, and providing some insight into the life of the man after he shot James, and the reasons why James became a “folk hero”. Although it’s a comparatively long-film (2.5 hours), I never felt the time drag as we watched it. Indeed, by the time it finished, just after nine o’clock, neither one of us was ready to go home to bed, so we headed down the Spanish area of the city and enjoyed Tapas and a bottle of red. That was Wednesday.
I had to be up early on Thursday morning (5am start), so I didn’t really have all that much sleep that night. Luckily I was able to leave work a little earlier, and head home for a nap before heading off to Opera Bar for dinner with Colin and Vanessa, and then to the launch of this year’s Sydney Festival. Compared with previous years, there’s a lot more music and dance this year, and I love the way they’ve expanded the number of large public events.
It was another busy day at work on Friday (gosh the tax-payer gets good value for money in employing me!), before heading off to catch up with Laura who is back in Sydney for about six weeks, before heading back to London (or maybe New York). Hopefully, she’ll be in NYC when I visit there next year.
And then last night, my friend Sue and I went to see “Holding The Man” at Belvoir Street. As I’ve mentioned previously, Holding The Man is a very special book and play, which means a great deal to me. It’s both extremely funny and extremely sad, and once again last night I had a bit of a cry. I think the play means a lot to the cast too, as both Sue and I thought the performance given last night was terrific, especially by the actor who plays Tim. “Did you think he was really crying?”, Sue asked me. “Yes, I did actually”, I told her, as the look on his face and the tears in his eyes seem to indicate to me that whatever emotions he had summoned up for the final moments of the play were clearly very strong ones. I sat opposite him on the bus the other week, by the way, which was a bit of a thrill.
We then came home, ate some ice-cream, had a cup of tea, and chatted until about one o’clock this morning.
“Your alarm’s going off”, Sue shouted through the door of my bedroom this morning, just after seven o’clock. Despite the late night, I needed to be out of bed reasonably early this morning for Sculpture By The Sea. At about seven o’clock the sky was still very grey, and I wondered briefly if it was worth bothering going down given the inclement weather. Within an hour or so, the sun has started to appear and by about nine o’clock there were beautiful blue skies over Sydney.
It was the first time I’ve been to Sculpture By The Sea for a number of years, and I was reasonably impressed with most of the statues on display. The warm weather brought with it good crowds, and I sometimes found it difficult to really appreciate the works, surrounded by thousands of others. I might take the advice of my friend Colin and go back sometime during the week if I can get a moment away from work. “I always go mid-week at about eleven o’clock in the morning”, he told me on the phone yesterday, “when it’s just me and the little old ladies”.
Right now, though, I think I might head down to Darling Harbour where there’s a European Travel Expo currently underway.
Sculpture By The Sea
Sculpture By The Sea
Sculpture By The Sea
Sculpture By The Sea
Sculpture By The Sea
Sculpture by the Sea
Sculpture by the Sea
Sculpture by the Sea
Sculpture by the Sea
P.S. It’s my birthday this week and I will be having drinks from about 6.30pm Friday at a TBC venue. Although a workmate reckons we should go to Pontoon, I’m not so sure. I’m thinking inner-city cheap pub myself. Or maybe Opera Bar which, amusingly, a friend told me this week is known on Friday nights as the “Dry Cleaners”: it’s where you go to pick up a suit!
Even though I live fairly close to Redfern in Sydney, I’ve never really socialised much in the area. Sure, I’ve been to a few pubs. I’ve been to Railz. I’m a member of South Sydney Rugby Leagues Club. I’ve also been to the uber-hip Freda’s. But aside from that, I’ve never really experienced much of the emerging small bar culture in the area. Partly, it’s because this small bar culture has developed only in the last few years, and now being in my late forties, friends and I tend to socialise in places which are little less-hip, a little less noisy.
And that’s the one thing you have to remember about small bars: they can be quite noisy. Like us ten years ago, these bars are full of younger types out for a night on the town with their friends. They’re probably out for a pick-up too. But that wasn’t the case for two friends of mine and I on Thursday night: we were just out for a few drinks and a catchup. We had previously called ourselves “The Boozehounds”, reflective of a time when we were all a bit younger, single, and thus able to be fairly spontaneous about our social lives. But when partners and young babies come along, you need to plan such events.
That said, it was a fairly spontaneous night. We started off at Arcadia which is a nice enough bar, though really very noisy. From there we wandered to The Beardedtit, a bar which we all really loved. The bar had a great vibe about it : there was a hip young crowd, but there was also room for 40-somethings like ourselves. On the walls there was art for sale, including one piece I almost made an impulse purchase of. You could also order take-in food from nearby restaurants : we had some really fantastic Chinese. We also chatted to the woman who runs the bar, and she was really lovely. We ended up the night at The Dock. An intimately small bar, we even had a dance to a band playing just a few feet away from us. So yeah, a night of great spontaneity, and great to get “The Boozehounds” back together.
Two or three times a year a bunch of us catch up for an afternoon of lunch, drinks and chatter.
Sometimes we’ll head over to Manly, though mostly it’s at a pub fairly close to Central Station in Sydney.
The common connection is that we’re all “ABBA Fans”. Well, not all of us anymore, and so it’s a connection which has transcended that connection somewhat.
The usual thing is meet for lunch, have a few drinks and a chat, have another meal, and then head off.
And so that’s how I spent my Saturday.
We started off at the Royal Exhibition Hotel. After a while, though, the combination of Port Power supporters and horse-racing enthusiasts became all too much, and so we headed up to the recently refurbished Strawberry Hills Hotel.
They’ve done a nice job refurbishing the Strawberry Hills. They’ve managed to maintain some of the “flavour” of the downstairs bar, and briefly taking a peak at the upstairs, they’ve managed to create a great new space.
After several hours of chatting, drinking and eating, and it was time to come home and settle on the couch to watch Eurovision and, in particular, Eric Saade’s spectacular performance. Sweden has a chance this year, I reckon.
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6 Comments
Glad the backup plan worked! I used to keep a front door key sellotaped to the underside of my desk at work after doing much the same thing.
Do people really take their fathers to stonewall? I think mine would be very uncomfortably out of place! LOL.
Advantage to living close to work in a 24-hour building. I’d have had a 6 km walk although, like you, there is 24-hours security so someone could have let me in when I arrived (as long as I had some ID on me, I suppose…)
What an horrible thing to happen! We have 2 locks on our front door and leave 1 spare key each with 2 different sets of friends who live nearby, (1 lot doesn’t know about the other kind of thing!) but that doesn’t solve the problem if one lot is away! Neither of us has 24/7 access to work where we could hide a backup set either. Hmm! Gald you got back in anyway :)
hmmm I always knew sleepwalking was a problem but I never realised how expensive a problem it could be…I did it only for the second time in my life about a month ago…lucky I could just call my folks to come round with a spare set. My brother did it in Manhattan a couple years back and he got charged $1200AUD!
Glad the backup plan worked! I used to keep a front door key sellotaped to the underside of my desk at work after doing much the same thing.
Do people really take their fathers to stonewall? I think mine would be very uncomfortably out of place! LOL.
Advantage to living close to work in a 24-hour building. I’d have had a 6 km walk although, like you, there is 24-hours security so someone could have let me in when I arrived (as long as I had some ID on me, I suppose…)
What an horrible thing to happen! We have 2 locks on our front door and leave 1 spare key each with 2 different sets of friends who live nearby, (1 lot doesn’t know about the other kind of thing!) but that doesn’t solve the problem if one lot is away! Neither of us has 24/7 access to work where we could hide a backup set either. Hmm! Gald you got back in anyway :)
Hi Jeni, nice to meet you. Do you have a blog also? James
hmmm I always knew sleepwalking was a problem but I never realised how expensive a problem it could be…I did it only for the second time in my life about a month ago…lucky I could just call my folks to come round with a spare set. My brother did it in Manhattan a couple years back and he got charged $1200AUD!
As I recall, the last time I needed a locksmith it was $120, not $1200. OMG.