As we waited for the show to commence we struggled to remember the last time we had been to see her perform.
For some odd reason, we’ve remembered every time we’ve seen Wil Anderson, including just a few weeks ago, but struggled to remember exactly when we’ve seen Judith, though we both knew we had on a few occasions.
It’s a shame since she’s an absolutely terrific performer. Tonight’s show must have gone 70 to 80 minutes, and she never dropped a beat in what was obviously a well-rehearsed show.
But obviously not so well-rehearsed that she couldn’t be spontaneous. There was a terrific moment when a pair of late-comers arrived at the show, and in typical comedian style, she asked them why they were late. The woman replied she had lost a couple of diamond rings in the toilets. “Let’s forget the fucking show”, she said, “let’s go looking for those rings”.
She says “fuck” a lot by the way. And she also said “cunt” a few times too. But she does it with such honesty, and without any sense of it being gratuitous, oddly enough.
Judith Lucy
At one point she noted she had been performing as a comedian for twenty years.
This surprised Damo, as he noted, “She must have started very young, and yet she’s always seemed quite old”.
He’s right about that. I get the sense she was always a grown-up from childhood. Maybe that’s why both of us connect to her?
And you get the sense from her act that she’s obviously struggled with some things throughout her life, including obviously the booze, and some self-esteem issues.
Maybe comedy is the way in which she makes sense of her life? Or maybe I’m just reading too much into her act?
Maybe I should just accept it as great comedy, which it is.
So yes, it’s my second night out in a row. And it ain’t over yet. Tomorrow night I’m off to see a new Australian film The Stone Bros.
All of this in a week when I’ve started to act in a new job. Life is rich and busy at the moment.
Dinner tonight, by the way, was the beef cheeks. Not as good as last night’s ravioli.
I went to work today with a packed overnight bag. We thought it might have been a good idea for me to travel to Brisbane to support my colleagues there. They’ve all been working incredibly hard over the last few weeks. But in the end we decided they were probably best supported from a distance, for the moment at least.
Rapidly and dramatically, Brisbane has become the focus for the Queensland floods, with predictions the water will reach higher levels than in January 1974. Although close family members lived through that flood, I have only a vague childhood memory, being more focussed on the Lismore flood of that year. In terms of water in the CBD, there were similarities in the depth between both Lismore and Brisbane.
“Do you remember much of it”, I asked Margaret on the phone tonight. “Oh yes” she said, reflecting on the fact that she and her family were living in Brunswick Street, New Farm at the time. They had water all around their house which she, as a nine year old, experienced strongly.
The house they lived in is now long gone, probably replaced by a shop or an apartment block. The change is reflective of what’s happened in that particular part of Brisbane since then. New Farm was a strongly working class, reasonably poor suburb then. Even now, it has a reasonably economically impoverished population. Thirty six years later and area also had a significant high income population, and I’m guessing a lot of those people will be panicking right now about the flooding that’s likely to affect their suburb over the next three or four days.
I have a strong connection to Brisbane, not just because of close family there, but also because I went to university there. I’ve also lived through a few floods myself, as my hometown is Lismore. Two weeks ago when I was home in Lismore family and friends were talking then about how much the weather pattern resembled 1974. In the back of my mind today, as well as the concern about Brisbane, was concern about Lismore. If the weather pattern repeats itself, Lismore too could face a major flood over the next two months. Lismore floods generally follow a little later than those in Brisbane. A higher than 1974 flood in Lismore would put water in the houses of my family members there.
And so in the midst of it all today – and particularly as I did a welfare check on family in Brisbane – I found myself get a little teary. I’m hoping everything will be okay.
As I strolled through the main park in Lismore’s center, I noticed a group of men gathered in the bandstand. Suddenly, one of them shouted out, “Hey brother, be careful of the magpie!” Being someone who grew up with fair hair, I knew all too well about the danger of magpies during this time of year. It seemed like a cruel twist of fate that magpies would always choose to nest in the trees surrounding both my primary school in South Lismore and my high school in Richmond River. After the man shouted his warning, another chimed in, “He’s already gone after three other bald guys today.” We all shared a laugh.
Wilson’s River at LismoreLawn Bowls Club, LismoreQueen Victoria 60 years fountain at Lismore
The decision to cross the old railway bridge between North and South Lismore was far riskier than any encounter with a magpie. Despite having crossed it safely numerous times as a child, I realized it may not have been the wisest choice as an adult. However, I couldn’t resist the nostalgia of my childhood memories, as several family members had worked for the railways, and I had accompanied them on many trips over the bridge to check the tracks between Lismore and Bexhill. Unfortunately, those were the days when trains regularly passed through Lismore, and the old bridge was not as well-maintained as it used to be.
Railway Bridge crossing the Wilson’s River at Lismore
It had been over a decade, perhaps even longer, since the last train had passed through Lismore. Feeling confident, I decided to walk across the old railway bridge. However, I had not anticipated the missing sleepers that appeared halfway across, which made my crossing far more tentative and nerve-wracking than I had expected. It was only after finally making it to the other side that I breathed a sigh of relief. As a word of caution to children, I must stress that attempting to cross the bridge as I did is a foolish and dangerous decision. Please, do not follow in my footsteps.
I never quite understood the significance of this piece of public art until today. With Lismore’s history of flooding, it’s presumably Noah’s Ark.One of Lismore’s most famous sons is Adam Gilchrist. I see he was back in town this week for book signings.
I am currently visiting my family for the weekend, and as many of them are significantly older than I am, I thought it would be a good idea to take a walk while they retired for an afternoon nap. I managed to complete my daily goal of taking 10,000 steps, and then some, by strolling through North Lismore, South Lismore, and the CBD.
“What are your plans for Mardi Gras? Are you going to the parade? Are you going to the party?” have been the questions colleagues have been asking me over the last couple of weeks. When I’ve told them, “I’m actually a little shy, I’m not very good with crowds”, they’ve seemed a little disappointed. But there was a time in my youth, when I’ve been a more enthusiastic attender of Mardi Gras. In particular, between about 1989 and 2000.
My first Mardi Gras was in 1989. I was 23 years old. Though I’m struggling to find photographic evidence, I know there’s one of me with friends, where I’m wearing a “Smiley face t-shirt” (it was an ecstasy reference, I’m sure) and “Batman” shorts. I was living in Bourke in NSW at the time, and coming down to Sydney was “quite a thing”.
If you were to ask similarly aged gay men to nominate their “Mardi Gras Soundtrack”, there’s a good chance they’ll nominate something from the Priscilla soundtrack, even though of course this was in the days before Priscilla. But for those of us of a certain age, “Dancing Queen”, “I Will Survive” and many other songs will spring to mind, and roll instantly off the tongue.
But for me, the ultimate reminder of that period of time is a song called “Pump Up The Jam” by Technotronic. At the party at the showground, I remember dancing with friends to an extended remix of the song which lasted maybe 15 or 20 minutes. We had long attention spans back then!
I stopped going to the party (and Sleaze Ball) in about 2001. After that time I lost interest in the big party scene, though, my interest in music continues to this day, and I love nothing more than going out for a dance. Palms!! However, I’m not one of those trapped in the era of twenty years ago, fondly remembering the “golden days”. I’m mindful the “golden days” for subsequent generations will be the music of today. But in the meantime – I hope you’ve enjoyed an awesome song from the 1980s.
Thanks to Facebook Group: I don't mind if the Swedes take over Australia.
There has been a proliferation of news about Sweden and Swedish-ness in the Australian newspapers lately, and I don’t mean just stories about Julian Assange. Of course, there are the regular stupid stories – the Swedes are so kooky stories – about studies from various universities, elks, Nazi connections to the Swedish Royal Family and so on, but there have also been some generally interesting stories about the influence of Swedish culture.
For example:
Roxette have sold 100,000 tickets for their forthcoming tour, and they had trouble getting a promoter in the first place.
Swedish cider brand Rekorderlig has launched a national campaign to boost its standing in the high-growth alcoholic beverage category, positioning itself as ‘Beautiful Swedish’.
Earlier this week, I did an interview with Derek Eady. Originally from New Zealand and now based in Central Queensland, Derek shared his experiences for an upcoming episode of The Limb Shift, a podcast about limb loss and limb difference. He was so generous with his time and insights. I hope you find his story as useful and inspiring to read now as it will be to listen to later in the year. Click on the links above to subscribe (free!!) to the podcast so you receive all of the episodes when they are released.
Derek Eady’s life shifted dramatically after a severe domestic accident in 2013 during a home renovation project in New Zealand.
Before the incident, he had spent over fifteen years working as a frontline paramedic, accustomed to being the one who arrived to help others in their darkest moments.
While painting the roof of his house on a stunning December day, he stepped on wet paint that “is a bit like soap,” causing him to slide straight down the roof and over the edge. He plummeted five and a half metres, landing feet first before hitting his backside, which shattered his right leg and fractured his pelvis and back in four separate places.
The Immediate Aftermath and Recovery
The immediate fear centered on a potential spinal injury. Derek recalled the terrifying realization:
“I couldn’t feel my legs, I had no sensation below my waist.”
Transitioning from a frontline paramedic to a completely dependent patient felt “surreal,” leaving him with an “absolute sense of complete helplessness”.
Hospitalization brought dark days, depression, and profound questions about his future as a father, husband, and paramedic.
When a colleague visited after his amputation and suggested alternative office or training roles, Derek felt deeply deflated because they lacked any “sense that there was a possibility that I could return to active duty on the road as a paramedic”.
A major turning point occurred when his surgeon introduced him to another amputee who walked smoothly without a walking stick. Inspired by that meeting and by learning about other adaptive athletes like double amputee Mark Inglis climbing Everest, Derek experienced a complete shift in mindset.
Seven months after the accident, following the amputation of his problematic leg, he made a firm choice:
“No, I’m going to do this, I’m going to get back to working as a paramedic… and come hell or high water, I was going to do everything I needed to do to make that happen.”
Rebuilding Life and Career
With the help of dedicated rehabilitation programs, specialists, and his prosthetic, Derek quickly learned to walk again.
St John, his employer, supported his return, provided he passed an occupational driving assessment to prove he could safely operate an unmodified vehicle.
After retraining his brain’s spatial awareness for braking and acceleration, he passed the test and returned to frontline duties.
In doing so, Derek made history by becoming the first person with limb loss in New Zealand to return to work as a frontline paramedic.
This lived experience had a deeply transformative impact on his perspective, fundamentally changing his attitudes toward life and patient care. Rather than feeling jaded, it instilled a profound sense of empathy:
“For them this moment is, for them it’s been scary enough that they’ve called an ambulance. So they deserve every ounce of my compassion.”
It also altered his outlook as a husband and father, making him realize how quickly life can change and teaching him to cherish every moment with his family.
Life Since Paramedicine in Australia
After working for another six years on the road in New Zealand, Derek and his wife—following her recovery from breast cancer—decided to completely change their pace of life. They bought a yacht, learned to sail with their children, and spent months cruising around New Zealand and Fiji before eventually crossing over to Australia.
Pic supplied
Now based in central Queensland, Australia, Derek closed the chapter on his long paramedicine career and transitioned into heavy transport. Describing his new line of work, he noted:
“At the moment I’m working in the dangerous goods transport field, running bulk dangerous goods. It’s… ammonium nitrate, cyanide, those sorts of things that are used in mines up around Queensland. So it’s, yeah, it’s a pretty intense, intense job.”
Working as a truck driver, Derek secured an unconditional licence and solved minor hurdles—such as finding a zip-up gumboot to fit his prosthetic for hazardous chemical suits.
Pic supplied
Alongside his career driving commercial heavy vehicles, he also serves as a volunteer skipper for Marine Rescue in Gladstone. Looking forward, he and his family hope to embark on a complete circumnavigation of Australia by sailboat once their youngest son finishes school.
