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May Socials
Conscious that I sometimes share material on other platforms that never makes “the cut” here on my blog, here’s a few tweets, posts, and observations that still seem relevant from May. Lots of ephemera, but hopefully still quite entertaining.
May 9 : Catching a bus and noticing how grabbing a seat is like how men use urinals: you find the farthest possible distance away, and then when it gets too full, it gets awkward.
May 10 : Many fond memories of Barons in Sydney, where until the mid 00s, you could drink after a serve of garlic bread. Also, back at The Terminus in Brisbane during the 80s. @kagij Pubs will in effect be treated like restaurants. People can have a drink but only with a meal. Seated dining only, max 20 people (and must adhere for four square metre rule)
May 15 : Loving these live performances from @nannegronvall (and Peter). https://facebook.com/nannegronvall/videos/2634884613466101/… Slightly crazy at times. Peter admitted this week, after Eurovision, they supported The Smurfs at a gig.
May 26 : Flu Shot : After a few weeks my local pharmacy was stocked up, and ready for “walk ins”. Only downside was having to wait in store for 15 minutes afterwards in case there were side-effects. Bought lots of things I didn’t need. And, getting shirtless with flabby old arms!
May 27 : Feeling ashamed I’ve never visited NZ, even though it’s so close, and even though I previously had a partner originally from there. Some friends have described NZ as a “back-pocket holiday destination”, when you can’t afford somewhere else. The time is now.
Saturday Catchup
It’s one of those beautiful late summer/early autumn days in Sydney. It’s the kind of day you know you just can’t waste. And I do have a bit planned for the afternoon. But what have I done so far? Well not a lot really. There was a phone call from work. I’ve chatted with someone on the internet. I’m working on this blog post. And I’ve gone through the photographs from last night. It’s remarkable, isn’t it, how many photographs you can take when you’ve had a beer or twelve.
The night started off at the Art Gallery of NSW with the official launch of the Archibald Prize. Champagne and canapes, 1000 people (I’d estimate), and some great art. How could you go wrong? I’m not a great fan of this year’s winning portrait, although I understand why it won. The “highly commended” portrait of Heath Ledger probably should have won, though I understand why it didn’t. For me, the portrait of Heath provokes a genuine emotive response, whereas the winning portrait doesn’t. People just seemed to walk past the winning portrait, hardly noticing it was there, whereas the portrait of Heath was viewed and enjoyed by many. The packer’s prize, which was the portrait of Neil Finn was okay, though not spectacular. And that’s probably how I would sum up most of this year’s work – okay, but not spectacular, in stark contrast to last year’s exhibition which I thought was excellent. I’m heading off to Salon des Refuses at S.H. Ervin later this afternoon, by the way, to see those works which didn’t quite make it.
Aside from an Australian Of The Year function on Thursday night at Boy Charlton Pool (now that’s a great location for a late afternoon cocktail party), catching up with mates on Wednesday night, and Swedish class on Tuesday night, it’s just been work, work, work.
Doesn’t Make Sense
“Walking around Lismore after the first flood, when there was still mud around and large piles of trashed furniture out on the street made sense of what happened. But it doesn’t make sense now”, I said to Noreen who runs the Duck Pond Espresso Coffee Shop in South Lismore.
“The night of the first flood people told me I didn’t need to worry about moving the van”, she told me this morning, adding “But I just knew I should”. She then pointed to the wall of the building next door.
Her’s was one of maybe half a dozen businesses open in the central parts of Lismore when I wandered around today.
In the CBD itself, there’s a temporary Woolworths that’s open with only two or three checkouts. Also in Lismore Central, there’s a fruit and veg shop, and a temporary coffee shop. There’s another coffee shop open on Keen Street, and the Pie Van has also reopened. But that’s pretty much it.
Everything else in Central Lismore, South Lismore and North Lismore remains pretty much closed.
As I wandered around there were lots of blokes in hi-viz. Largely it seemed they were still in salvage mode rather than re-build mode.
There were moments when I got a little bit teary about my hometown. The town where I was born and raised, have continued to think of as “home”, and where I have been planning to retire. Though I personally have managed to avoid the devastation of the two recent floods, I feel like some of my dreams have also been shattered.
And then of course, there’s the impact on my family which I’ve written about here. I managed to get some photographs off my nephew’s phone of what it was like inside our house on the Sunday night/Monday morning of the first flood before they were rescued. There’s a photograph of Pat sitting on the kitchen benchtop with water up to her knees. An hour later, she had water to her chest. An hour later, she would have drowned.
“I’ve spoken to a lot of people in Sydney”, I told Noreen, “and they just don’t understand the devastation. Lots of people have kept in touch, wishing me and everyone the best. Lots of people have donated money and goods, including directly to my family. But they still don’t really know”.
“Walking around after the first flood made sense. But walking around today doesn’t make much sense. All you can see are empty shops, collapsed buildings including houses washed off their stumps, and there’s erosion along the riverbank. But the river is back to normal. And it’s a lovely sunny day. It just doesn’t make sense.”
The nuts and bolts of amputee travel
Getting ready for a big overseas trip involves a lot of list-making, but for an amputee, the most important “tune-up” doesn’t happen at a mechanic—it happens at the prosthetist’s office.
Ahead of my holiday to Sweden, Thailand, and the UK, I headed in last week for a final check-up at OAPL Alexandria to ensure everything was adventure-ready. My prosthetist, Will, went through the essentials: tightening bolts that take a beating during daily use, increasing the padding inside the prosthetic, and checking the soles of my shoes to ensure the grip and alignment are spot on. We’ve also begun the paperwork for a new socket, as my leg has changed shape and size significantly in the last 18 months.
The unexpected highlight of the visit was the alignment tool. As you can see in the photo, it uses a digital interface to show exactly how straight I’m standing. By placing me on a pressure-sensitive platform, the software generates a vertical plumb line—that bright green stripe on the tablet—to measure the weight distribution and the “straightness” of my posture.
It’s a fascinating bit of tech that takes the guesswork out of the process. Even a few millimetres of tilt can lead to back pain or fatigue when you’re walking through international airports or exploring the streets of a small village.
This trip is a literal trial by fire (and ice). Going from the humid 30°C heat of Thailand to the -30°C chill of a Swedish winter presents a unique challenge: volume change.
The residual limb—or “stump”—is incredibly sensitive to temperature and air pressure. In the Thai heat, I can expect some swelling; in the Swedish cold, it might shrink. This fluid fluctuation affects how the socket fits, which is why having a range of prosthetic socks is non-negotiable for maintaining comfort across 60 degrees of temperature variance.
Beyond the usual passport and sunscreen, my kit looks a bit different. The awesome thing is that since these are classified as essential medical devices, they don’t count towards my luggage weight—a huge relief when packing for three different climates!
- Prosthetic Socks: Various ply/thicknesses to manage limb shrinkage or swelling.
- Liners and Sleeves: A primary set plus a spare (accidents happen!).
- Skin Care: Alcohol wipes, pH-neutral soap, and anti-chafe balm to prevent sores.
- The “Fix-it” Kit: A specific hex key (Allen key) for minor adjustments and spare valve parts.
- A “Maybe” Walking Stick: I’m aiming to go without it, but it’s on the standby list just in case the terrain gets tricky.
I’ve booked wheelchair assistance for every flight, and if you’re an amputee travelling long-haul, I can’t recommend it enough. It’s not about “giving up” independence; it’s about energy conservation.
Airports are massive, and trekking kilometres between gates before a 14-hour flight is a recipe for skin breakdown. Using the assistance service ensures I’m fresh for the destination rather than exhausted by the transit. Plus, it makes navigating the security “pat-down”—a standard reality for those of us with metal limbs (and for me, a right hip) —much more organised and significantly less stressful.
With the bolts tightened and my alignment verified, I’m feeling much more confident about the kilometres ahead.
Blake Prize
I’ve just been to see The Blake Prize for Religious Art at the National Art School in Darlinghurst, and really enjoyed viewing many of the works on display. A highlight of the exhibition, as soon as you enter the door, is “We All See The Same Blue Sky” by Jeffrey Robert Wood. The sculpture/installation features a life-sized family of four covered in paper. They have televisions where their faces should be, and the paper that covers their body has writing on it. As you look closer, you realise the paper is pages from the Bible, the Koran, the Torah, and the Psalms.
Another favourite, both because of its physical beauty and its inspiration is “Whispered” by Louise Feneley. A beautiful oil painting on Belgian linen, the painting portrays a white cloth simply folded, but with light always coming through, giving it both physical beauty, thanks to the shadows, and spiritual depth.
Sticking more strictly to the notion of religion is “Preaching To Birds” by Arthur Apanski. Through strong vibrant colours, the painting portrays Adam and Even in a universal setting, and it’s not until you read the accompanying notes that you realise it’s them.
In a very contemporary sense, a couple of the works in this year’s exhibition touched on issues of religion and sexuality, including “Sermon” by Chris O’Doherty (aka Mambo) and “In God’s Image” by Rod McRae. The latter features a group of gay men in various degrees of undress, whereas the former is the kind of work you’ve come to expect of O’Doherty.
But in 2006, the Blake Prize isn’t really about religious art, per se, it’s about “the interaction of ideas and spiritual thought in contemporary Australian art”, as the written program tells us. This means there are many paintings based around nature, including a wonderful large red piece, which unfortunately I forget the name of which portrays the Kimberley region of Western Australia. Likewise, this year’s winner, a piece called, “Untitled Landscape with figure” by Euan MacLeod portrays the area around Alice Springs.
More interesting for me than the MacLead work, which I thought looked like everything else he’d ever done, was a piece called “The Six Towers Of Dachau”, photographs, by Lachlan Warner. I’ve been to Dachau, I’ve walked around and I’ve thought deeply about the experience. What makes this work wonderful, however, was that the artist had obviously thought about what it must have been like to have been in the Nazi death camp, and to have considered the significance of the watch towers in the every day lives of those who were there.
So yes, a terrific exhibition and one I’d recommend.
Vaccination
As many of my friends and family know, I have NO problems going to sleep. I can fall asleep BEFORE take off on a plane. I can have a terrific micro-nap on the 304 bus between my place and Circular Quay.
But I wasn’t quite prepared for the nap I’ve had after having the Astra Zeneca. Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but I am OVER FIFTY.
At first, I felt quite good, but after a few hours, I became incredibly tired. I also started to feel a little dizzy. There was a bit of pain in my arm too, where I had the injection.
So I cancelled dinner at a friend’s place and went to bed, waking in the early hours of Saturday morning.
Then I woke up and went back to bad for basically the next 24 hours. I woke up Sunday morning feeling pretty good.
As I shared this story on social media, many friends had similar experiences.
My partner had exactly the same reaction!!!
I had the same. Wiped me out for a day or so. But it means it’s worked!
I’m told this is the immune system kicking in. I was also tired after my Moderna x 2 here in California.
Falling to sleep easily must run in the family. I also drop off no problem. I had my first Asta jab six weeks ago and only felt mildly sleepy the following day. No sore arm either.
One of my mates had exactly the same reaction as you James. Fortunately I was fine after the jab.
Didn’t have any reaction other than the sore arm, and vaccines always seem to do that to me. Great way to get a good night’s sleep though, I guess it means it’s your immune system summoning up the response with a resounding, right people, this is not a drill. When in fact, it is.
Great to have this done at my local medical centre, without the need to travel long distances.
Sadly, there were no jelly beans at the medical centre.