You know how I was rabbiting on about the cold the other day?
Could I cope with a Swedish spring or autumn – I never mentioned winter – as opposed to the glorious summer?
What I should have been asking was whether I could cope with a Sydney spring?
WTF? A couple of weeks ago it was over 30 degrees. Today I went to work wearing a scarf.
For the last few days at work I’ve been doing some reasonably involved, complex things.
Thus, both last night and tonight I’ve come home fairly exhausted.
Though I made a brief visit to the pub last night, and a walk around the shops of Darlinghurst this afternoon, I’ve ended up coming home and falling asleep on the couch both nights, only to wake a few hours later.
I think I need a couple of days off soonish. And probably a trip home to Lismore at some point over the next few weeks for a few days. That would be good. A damn site warmer than Sydney also I’d imagine.
Damo and I enjoyed a really terrific moment earlier tonight at the Brett Whiteley Gallery. I’d been invited, you see, to the launch of a new book, a photographic diary of the artist. Given the proximity of the gallery to my own house, I immediately said yes to the invitation. And because Damo had lived in the area for a number of years and had never been to the gallery, I invited him to come along.
A fair percentage of those attending were, as you’d expect, deliciously eccentric. Wendy Whiteley was there, of course, wearing what Damo described as a “Jamiroquai Hat”. Edmund Capon was also there, of course, in an official role, as the Studio is now run by the Art Gallery of NSW. But pride of place for the night went to Brett Whiteley’s mum, Beryl, who was celebrating her ninetieth birthday. In a truly memorable moment, a chocolate cake was brought out, candles were lit and we all sang and wished her a very “Happy Birthday”.
Beryl Whiteley Turns 90
It wasn’t until later tonight that I began to reflect on the significance of the event, though I enjoyed it at the time. Only later tonight did I reflect on the fact that this year I’ve been to a 30th, a 50th, a 70th, and now a 90th birthday this year. Surely that’s gotta be some kind of record?
As we left the gallery and wandered up Davies Street, with the intention of dining at Snake Bean, Damo and I saw something we couldn’t walk past. You may recall I recently mentioned I was on the lookout for a brand new desk, to replace the totally inadequate desk I currently have. In a wonderfully cosmic alignment of the stars, we spotted what be both realised instantly was “the perfect desk”, along with a lot of other furniture dumped by someone who had either upgraded or had moved house. “Are you up to it?”, I asked Damo. Thankfully he was, and so in a move that I know will horrify my friend Graeme, we picked it up and, walking 100 metres or so, brought it back home.
From there, we wandered off to dinner at Thai Thah Poh and quickly remembered why we thought it was such a good local take-away and dine-in-place. The duck curry, the beef salad and the fish cakes were wonderful. We also enjoyed the clean-skin chardonnay from the Mornington Peninsula which we picked up from the local bottle shop for just $10.
“See you in six months”, my specialist said to me today after I attended the Amputee / Prosthetic Clinic at Sydney’s Sacred Heart Hospital.
I spent almost four months in hospital last year, commencing with emergency surgery to remove the bottom half of my right leg.
The situation was fairly dire, and I came awfully close to death / brain damage, and so the stay in hospital was lengthy.
After a couple of months of rehabilitation, I got my prosthetic leg in early September, and was able to leave hospital about 10 days later.
Though I sometimes wish my progress was faster / greater, the team at the hospital today (specialist, prosthetist, physiotherapist) were all very pleased with how things are going.
“You’re just showing off”, the specialist said to me as I walked into the room without my crutch.
I told them of the things I’ve achieved recent, and my plans for the next milestone: walking in the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras.
The next step after that will be securing a permanent prosthesis. The leg I have now is an interim one, and the next one will weigh less, and hopefully mean I’ll be able to get out and about more easily.
Thankfully, I’ve avoided some of the skin problems and pain problems often endured by amputees.
I’m mindful, of course, that it could all change tomorrow. I could suddenly find myself unable to put on my prosthetic leg, and therefore back in the wheelchair, unable to leave the house as easily as I can right now.
Having that affirmation from the team made me smile.
I also called in to say hello to the staff on the ward on Level 4 at Sacred Heart, and it was so great to visit them again after all their support.
I celebrated (by myself) by going to the nearby Beauchamp Hotel (now known as The Beecham) for lunch, and then a coffee around the corner. Both were significant places in my journey over the last seven months. The Beauchamp was where my nieces would regularly have meals and drinks, while they were in Sydney visiting me. And the last time I visited the coffee shop I was still in the wheelchair.
Prawn Linguine at The Beauchamp
I am incredibly thankful for the work of the staff at Sacred Heart, and to my friends, family and colleagues for all their support.
I’m not a huge fan of television drama, unlike many of my friends and colleagues. Many often make recommendations about things they’ve seen on the various streaming services. Often, they don’t quite understand the blank face I respond with to something “everybody is talking about”.
That wasn’t always the case. In the early days of this blog, I wrote often about my (almost) obsessional interest in the English police drama, “The Bill”. I’m not sure why I don’t watch as much fictional television drama, these days, except maybe there’s too much to keep up with?
From time to time, I’ll latch onto something. For example, I really tapped into the Swedish youth drama, “Young Royals”, though preferring the first series over the second. The first series seemed a little more edgy, dealing with the situation where the second in line to the Swedish throne becomes the crown prince, and whose situation is complicated by the fact he’s gay. The second series seemed more like a re-run, based on the success of the first. A third series is planned.
More recently, it’s the American drama, “Succession”, based “loosely” on the story of the Murdoch family. Amusingly, I was watching something on Youtube the other day which, in the context of the Dominion defamation case, described Rupert as a “real life Logan Roy”. Life imitating art, not the other way around?
In the earlier series of the drama, it was pretty clear how awful they all were as people, as they “competed” for who would take over the business when Rupert, er ah, Logan dies.
In the latest episodes, it’s become pretty clear how under-prepared all the children were for a life after the death of their father. Even though he “prepared” them, it’s clear none of them are all that bright, or suitable. They lack the life experience and maturity that would be required to run a multi-billion dollar organisation. They are only in the position they’re in because they were born into that position.
The “training” they received from their father, and the experiences they’ve gained along the way, has, of course, put them in a unique position to respond to the situation. But ultimately, fundamentally, they’re not necessarily the best people for the job. The parallels with any royal family, or any dynastic business (big or small) are clear.
Despite all of the character flaws, the program has been a joy to watch, for the complex characters themselves, the writing, and the way it’s been directed and filmed.
As we’re now approaching the end of the fourth and final series (shown in Australia on Binge/Foxtel), I thought it timely to write about it, recommending it to you, in the same way my friends recommend shows to me. Hoping your eyes won’t glaze over?
Although not exactly packed to the rafters, the smaller upstairs screening room at the Chauvel Cinema was reasonably full at today’s screening of the film, “Joan Rivers – A Piece Of Work”. As with the likes of Cher, Liza Minelli and so on, the gays and the greys were out in force on a wet autumn day in Sydney.
I’ve been a fan of Joan Rivers ever since I bought that wonderful album (yes it was vinyl back then), “What Becomes a Semi-Legend Most?” back in the early 1980s. She was foul mouthed, outrageous, and hilariously funny. Twenty-five years later, when Colin and I saw her at The Enmore Theatre, she was still funny then. Still shocking.
And she is in this film too. In fact, there are a couple of moments when the whole audience screamed with laughter, as scenes from stage performances feature throughout the film. In essence, though, it’s a documentary about a year in her life, a year in which she does everything from appear in a play at The Edinburgh Festival, win Celebrity Apprentice, and ditch her manager,
Although it’s a bit of a cliche, it really is a “warts and all” kind of film. There are moments in the film where she doesn’t come off well. Moments where you think she needs to take a pill and relax. Moments where you think she needs to be more mindful of those around her. And yet, she also comes across as wonderfully giving – caring for her staff and their families – and as someone you quite admire, because she continues to be motivated to work hard, and to be ahead of the game. For a celebrity biography it’s refreshingly honest, as she admits to her frailties, concedes she’s seen as a bit of a showbiz plastic surgery freak, and worries openly about her career and the blank pages in her diary.
We both LOVED the film. I think it’s the kind of film I’d like to buy on DVD and watch again and again.
I’m crucified
Crucified like my savior
Saintlike behavior
A lifetime I prayed
I’m crucified
For the holy dimension
Godlike ascension
Heavens away
Although I’m not sure why, for the last couple of days I’ve had the song “Crucified” by “Army Of Lovers” stuck in my head. It’s been one of those classic ear-worms where, once you hear it, you can’t get it out of your brain.
I’m not sure how many people would remember the song these days, although it was a favourite of mine in the early 90s. It’s a great dance track with a very, very, very camp video. And guess what? It’s Swedish.
One of the members of the band, Alexander Bard went to have success with other Swedish bands, including Alcazar and BWO, who I also like very much. Oh, and in March last year, I even saw him naked.
Meanwhile, it was recently reported in the Swedish press La Camilla had a relationship with the current King of Sweden, Carl XVI Gustaf.
Army of Lovers - Crucified - walking past the King of Sweden
According to the Expressen newspaper, the object of the King’s affection was Camilla Henemark, who was born to a Nigerian father and Swedish mother and who was once a founding member of the band Army of Lovers. In 1994 she also hosted an erotic-themed programme on Sweden’s TV3 called Seventh Heaven. The relationship reportedly lasted about a year in the late 1990s and with the knowledge of Queen Silvia. According to the book, the King was quite smitten by Henemark, who goes by the stage name La Camilla. “The King sometimes looked like a love-crazed school boy and on one occasion they talked about running away together to an isolated exotic island,” reads the book.
So, as you can see, the band was anything but boring.
It’s a great way to spend a few hours, isn’t it? Watching clips on Youtube. Television is all a bit crap at the moment, and after a few hours of listening to the radio, I figured it was time for a bit of Swedish pop indulgence.
I’m back at work PROPER tomorrow, so why not? I went into the office for a while today to do a few things, but being a holiday, there was hardly anyone around, and so I wore shorts and thongs. But tomorrow is a REAL work day.
PS…
The other clip I loved watching tonight was from last year’s Eurovision…
A lot of people went to a lot of effort to dress up for the Pop Art Party at the Art Gallery of NSW last night.
We didn’t. We were happy just to go along in the same clothes we wear to pretty much every event at the AGNSW.
In keeping with the theme of the party, there were lots of Andy Warhols, lots of Warhol-inspired costumes, and lots of characters from Roy Lichtenstein paintings.
A lot of people went to a lot of effort with their costumes. My favourite, though, was the skinny bloke wearing an over-sized Spiderman costume. Classic
“That’s the worst Spiderman I’ve ever seen”, a woman standing at our table said. “That’s the point”, I told her.
Drag host for the Pop Art Party at the Art Gallery of NSWPop Art Party at the Art Gallery of NSW
