Easter Monday
Another restful day of the long weekend….
I received a “hi, how are you email” from a friend in Stockholm the other day.
Co-incidentally, I’ve been thinking about Stockholm a little bit lately. In fact, I’ve also been having a few dreams about Stockholm lately. In the latest, I was in Stockholm in the middle of summer and checking into an hotel. Almost as soon as I’d checked into the hotel, I received a phone call from someone back in Sydney telling me my apartment was on fire.
“I could read a lot into that dream”, my friend told me in a later email. She’s right, you know.
Every time I visit Stockholm another friend asks me the question, “Have you got it out of your system?”. My reply is usually, “No, not at all. In fact I think it’s getting worse”.
This “journey” of mine goes back many years, but only really solidified when I went travelling for several months in 2008. The combination of a healthy tax return and a feeling of being burnt-out resulted in a sudden and deliberate decision (perhaps) to run away from my life here and to discover some new adventures. It was one of those life-changing experiences. Since then, travel has become a much more important part of my life, I feel I have a better balance between life and work, and I’ve found myself on a life journey which has taken me back to Sweden a further three times (2010, 2011 and 2013).
I’m not sure if it’s Sweden or Stockholm in particular, though. I think Sweden’s great, but when I’m in Stockholm I feel really, really happy.
No doubt part of it has to do with being on holiday, and all of the joy that usually brings. On a deeper level, I suspect there’s also an underlying feeling that I’m not entirely happy with everything in my life.
Or maybe it’s just that Stockholm is a great place?

The other day, while driving around with a colleague, I received a message from Karran, a family member, that demolition has officially begun on South Lismore Public School (SLPS), my old primary school. It was severely damaged in the 2022 flood. Having attended SLPS from 1971 to 1977, I personally experienced the rebuild after the 1974 flood. The constant sound of pile drivers was a familiar backdrop for a couple of years back then, but it ultimately resulted in a much better school. I sincerely hope the current construction is far less disruptive for the staff and students.

Over the years, we’ve had a couple of large high school reunions, notably in 2004 and then again last year, 2024 for students of Richmond River High School. A few people missed the last one, and one of those classmates had a brilliant idea: since most of us are about to turn 60, why not have a joint birthday party this year?
The plan was simple: head to a pub for dinner, drinks, and a good chat, with an ’80s band playing at Mary G’s as an added bonus. That’s exactly what we did last night, and it was a fantastic idea! Because it wasn’t an “official” school reunion, the atmosphere was much more relaxed. We all had a wonderful time chatting, honestly and openly, about our lives and the experiences of the past few years. We enjoyed a few drinks, and some of us even hit the dance floor.

I must admit, only a handful of us made it to the dance floor, and I found myself bracing against the pillars to avoid toppling over amidst the ’80s tunes, while others preferred to stay back and continue their conversations. I managed to make it home by 10:30 PM, which is well past my usual bedtime. Then, I received a message from Amanda, another classmate, saying she got to bed around 1:30 AM! It sounds like their party went on for quite some time, which I think is pretty impressive given we’re all, or nearly all, turning 60 this year. Most of us are still 59, actually!

What’s the word for the name you give someone who helps the new kid at school?
I’ve been trying to remember the word all week, and everyone keeps saying, “buddy”. Indeed, that was the first word I thought of, too. But “buddy” seems overly American and I don’t think we would have used that word when I was a child. Maybe we didn’t have a word back then?
Either way, it’s the word for what I’ll be doing on Monday and Tuesday, for the new Manager of ABC Radio Sydney. “My job is to show him where the toilets are, and where to get his little lunch from”, I’ve joked.
For the last three weeks I’ve been back at the station, covering the period between when the previous manager, Melanie, finished up and when the new manager, Andrew starts.
For me, it’s been a lovely trip down memory lane, as I used to work at the station.
“It’s been great to get my hands dirty with daily radio”, I’ve told a few people. There’s great joy in seeing gifted content people connecting with the audience. There have also been difficult moments, including dealing with some work, health and safety issues, and then on Friday, thunderstorms and hail hit Sydney, just as we were about to head off for our Christmas lunch
One of the highlights was the farewell function for Wendy and Robbie.

When Mitch Grant was 21 years old, his life took a sudden, irreversible turn. Just ten minutes after the New Year’s Eve fireworks, a motorbike accident on Lane Cove Road resulted in the loss of his left leg and a severe injury that left his left arm completely without function. Reflecting on his journey, Mitch stresses that recovery was never purely a physical battle. Instead, it was defined by a series of critical, paradigm-shifting conversations—some with family, some with strangers, and others with fellow amputees—that ultimately transformed his perspective from despair to purpose.
In the immediate aftermath of the trauma, Mitch underwent emergency surgery and was placed in an induced coma for four days to allow his body to stabilize, followed by four and a half weeks in the intensive care unit. Because of his heavy medication and fluctuating state, he struggled to retain information, forcing his parents into an agonizing cycle of repetition.
As Mitch recalls, “I would ask them, what am I doing here? Where am I… And then they’d have to tell me that I’ve had a motorbike accident. I’ve lost my leg… they had to do that three or four times a day for like three and a half, four weeks. To this day that still brings both my parents in tears when they talk about it”.
Recognizing the immense toll his condition was taking on his support network became his initial catalyst for internal strength. He realized he had two choices: succumb to depression and substance abuse, dragging his loved ones down with him, or resolve to “get up and get on with it”.
The true turning point occurred several weeks later on the hospital ward. After a highly distressing incident involving a bedpan—an experience that shattered his youthful sense of invincibility—Mitch retreated into a dark, isolated headspace. He pushed his parents away and refused visitors.
However, a desperate request from a nurse shortly after this low point changed everything. A 13-year-old boy in the adjacent room had recently lost his hand in a car accident and was struggling so heavily that he had been placed on suicide watch. Despite his initial reluctance, and questioning what a 21-year-old leg amputee could offer a young boy who had lost a hand, Mitch agreed to be wheeled into the room.
Their initial interaction was awkward and mostly silent, but Mitch left a standing fan in the boy’s room to help him cope with the summer heat. The following day, the boy requested Mitch return, sparking a genuine connection. Mitch notes, “We actually had a conversation for about an hour. We didn’t talk about being an amputee. We didn’t talk about our accident… We spoke about footy, spoke about school… We just spoke totally about random things, a lot about sport”. The boy was discharged shortly after, leaving behind a brief note of profound gratitude.
The impact of that simple exchange left a lasting impression on Mitch, who says, “And that was when I sort of realized, okay, it’s just a conversation, right? We didn’t have to talk about being an amputee… It was literally just a simple conversation. And it… helped me as much as I helped him… I realized the power of a voice and a story”. This human breakthrough proved that they did not need to dissect their shared traumas to provide mutual mental clarity.
Before the accident, Mitch was an apprentice carpenter. While his missing leg was manageable, the loss of function in his left hand made continuing in the trade unviable. Refusing to remain stationary, he shifted gears completely.
Alongside his father, he opened a gym franchise, hoping to create an inclusive community space where able-bodied and disabled individuals could train together.
His trajectory shifted once again when his mother relentlessly urged him to look into a revolutionary socket-free procedure known as osseointegration. After witnessing the fluid mobility of pioneering patient and Paralympian Brendan Burkett, Mitch chose to undergo the surgery. It eliminated the daily pain and instability of traditional sockets, making putting on his leg “as simple as putting on a pair of shoes”. This milestone led Mitch to volunteer as a global advocate for the procedure, eventually transitioning into his current primary career as a distributor of advanced prosthetic technology across Australia.

Through his global travels, Mitch has met individuals who continually reshaped his definition of resilience. One such figure was Michael Swaine, a British military veteran who lost both legs to an improvised explosive device (IED). Visiting Swaine in the United Kingdom provided Mitch with a sharp dose of perspective when Swaine insisted they walk to a local park with his young children and dog rather than take the car. Mitch remembers the interaction clearly: “He’s goes, ‘Where are you going?’ I go, ‘To the car.’ … And then he’s clicked and he’s gone, ‘You lazy bastard… You’re only missing one leg. I’m missing two.’ … This guy, he’s got two young kids… and a dog and he’s missing two legs and he’s taking the kids down the street to the park. Like, just blew my mind”.
Years later, when Mitch welcomed his own child, the memory of that conversation and the security provided by his osseointegration surgery gave him the absolute confidence to carry his infant safely. Ultimately, Mitch views his entire trajectory not as a tragedy, but as a series of open doors. He remains driven by the fundamental belief that sharing an average, relatable story can completely alter someone else’s outlook. For Mitch, recovery is defined entirely by one’s mindset, concluding that “It’s a big mental game. It’s gotta start with you. It’s not a physical game”.
Note: The audio from this conversation with Mitch will appear in the Limb Shift podcast launching in October, and which will be available on this website, Spotify, YouTube & Apple Podcasts.
It’s Thursday night and I just arrived home a short while ago. Although I have been feeling a little bit down this week, the last few days have been pretty good.
University Assignment: On Sunday night, I finished my assignment, although I am not too sure how well I have done. Although I first thought 2,000 words was a lot to write, I soon realised it probably wasn’t enough to say all that I could, and so I’m not sure if I’m managed to include all I wanted to see or if I just ended up skimming the surface. I know one of the references was incomplete, but I just couldn’t be bothered. The assignment called for an analysis of a community-service campaign, and I chose the “Grim Reaper” AIDS Campaign of the 1987. Here’s the abstract:
ABSTRACT: Recent concern about the apparent rise in HIV notifications has prompted a number of commentators to reflect on the apparent success of the “Grim Reaper‿?, including Professor Ron Penny, who diagnosed Australia’s first AIDS case. Although acknowledging the campaign may have resulted in the demonization of gay men, Professor Penny declared it “one of the most effective campaigns ever launched in Australia‿? and one which “at least made people aware and probably… (changed the)… sexual practices of heterosexuals‿?. At the heart of Dr Penny’s argument is the inference of a direct relationship between the “Grim Reaper‿? campaign, heightened public awareness and behaviour change. This paper demonstrates the failings of a using “direct effects‿? model and suggests a more appropriate model for understanding the impact of this campaign.
Monday and Tuesday nights were spent at home, mostly watching television, while last night and tonight were spent out on the town, mostly in the vicinity of Circular Quay seeing a few “review performances”.
The Lion King On Imax: Although I have never seen this movie before, I knew that Tim Rice and Elton John had written the music and I was told by a workmate, Huw, that it was a good fun movie. According to a review
The story is a mix of classic plot elements (most of it comes from Hamlet and Richard III), in which young lion cub Simba (voice of Thomas) is groomed to succeed his heroic father (Jones) as the king of the beasts. But his sinister, murderous uncle Scar (Irons) twists events, sending Simba into exile, where he’s befriended by a meerkat and a warthog (Lane and Sabella). All grown up (now voiced by Broderick), he’s finally urged to return home and rescue the kingdom from Scar and a bunch of lowlife hyenas (led by Goldberg, Marin and Cummings). Oh, and he falls in love with his childhood buddy Nala (Kelly). Can you feel the love tonight?
I thought it was great on the HUGE screen, although there were moments when the animation was overwhelming. It was a work-related freebie – which I took my friend Grant to see – and so we were also given some propaganda about how other feature films, such as Star Wars II, will also be released on IMAX.
Melanie Oxley and Chris Abrahams: After the movie, I met up with Kate. Given her family connection with Oxleys, I asked her to come along to the CD launch at The Basement I had been invited to: Blood Oranges by Melanie Oxley and Chris Abrahams. The music they performed was sophisticated, personal, and satisfying. From my own perspective, it was one of the best music-related nights of my life. Loved it!
Hamlet: And then tonight, Yvette and I went to see “Hamlet” at the Sydney Opera House. This was a truly great production. Cheers must go to the the actor, Leon Ford, who played the lead role, revealing the wit and intelligence of Hamlet, that’s often neglected in an attempt to portray the mournful indecision of the character. Unfortunately I spent a little while distracted, trying to remember where I had seen him before, although a net search has since revealed him to be one of the actors in the ABC drama series, “Changi”.
According to the review in the Sydney Morning Herald,
Ford grows on the audience just as Hamlet changes and grows, and my early misgivings were soon dispelled by the agility, reckless enjoyment, tenderness and apparent spontaneity of his performance.
Unlike the critic, I had no misgivings at all, as he performed with such mastery I discovered much more about the character than I realise had existed. On the other hand, I thought Ophelia was disappointing. Again, I disagreed with the SMH critic, Bryce Hallett, who loved her. Go figure…
Tomorrow, I’m off to the Sydney Royal Easter Show and then on Saturday, Damien and I are going on an Historic Pub Crawl of Balmain, which should be fun, I’m sure.
Marque Restaurant
Shp 4/ 355 Crown St Surry Hills 2010
(02) 9332 2225
Don’t get me wrong, the food was delicious. Excellent, even. But every sentence I began when thinking about the meal ended in a criticism. In essence the problem is that technical excellence is a given at the top level. Creativity, flair and honesty are the hallmarks of the best restaurants, and sadly Marque failed to deliver on these counts.
My entree of Beetroot Tart with Fresh Horseradish Sauce was very tasty, the sweetness of the beetroot nicely complimented by the mouthwatering shortcrust pastry beneath. However it was also a bit one-dimensional, and the horseradish was delivered as a foam which seemed inescapeably pretentious. On the other hand James’ entree of Almond Jelly with Crab, Almond Gazpacho, Prune Oil & Sweet Corn Custard was superb. The crab was delightfully light and was well complemented by the saltiness of the accompanying roe.
The choice of mains was short and definitely not innovative: duck, venison, jewfish, and kangaroo island chicken stick in my mind, and there were one or two other options as well. I chose the Roast Venison with Carrot Confit, sweet and Sour Turnips and Bitter Chocolate. The venison was delivered very rare, with perfectly cooked miniature carrots and turnips and a very sticky jus. Yummy, well presented and faultlessly executed, also totally uninspiring. The best part of the dish was a
shockingly rich dollop of carrot puree.
James had the Roast New England Muscovy Duck with Liquorice, Niçoise Olive Emulsion and Lemon Confit (pictured), which resembled a meat pattie on a stack of vegies. Also delicious, but it didn’t meet the test of “I couldn’t possibly do that at home”. It was quite strange really: like a duck burger without the bread.
And a word about value. At $24-27 for entrees and $39-45 for mains, Marque prices itself at the top of the Sydney food tree. However portions were very small for the money, in my opinion, and I was glad I had eaten a decent home-cooked lunch earlier that day. BYO is a great bonus of this place, but at $10 per bottle it certainly isn’t cheap.
We asked for the dessert menu, but nothing at all on the menu encouraged us to stay. Not even a creme brulee on the list, which would have been lovely. No dessert was definitely a wallet-saver: $18 per dessert, plus drinks starting at $12 a glass. And my armagnac fetish would have brought the cost of that third course to over $40.
In the end we paid $80 a head for two courses, including a modest tip. Not outrageous, but I can think of many other places that offer better value in this town.
Damien.
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