Arbisko National Park, on the northern border between Norway and Sweden.
It was my last day at work, and I can’t help but compare this final day to the last time I travelled to Sweden, and how I was feeling about life and work then.
Two years ago, I was both emotionally and mentally exhausted.
Mentally, I wasn’t in a very good state at all when I headed off on the trip. I was, quite frankly, well and truly “over” my job, and I was feeling somewhat direction-less there.
But then I had the holiday, was completely revitalised, and came back with a new lease on life, including my job. I began to remember why I love what I do.
This time, however, I am very happy in my job. And I’m even a little disappointed to be going, as I am genuinely having a wonderful time.
I’m also feeling much happier in myself. I feel good about me. And I don’t feel like I’m “running away from my life”, which is possibly a large part of what I was doing two years ago.
I still can’t quite believe it when I go on a major holiday like this.
I guess in the back of my mind, there’s still something about “The Boy from Lismore” feeling that it’s completely ostentatiousness to be able to afford to go on overseas holidays.
It’s like that song by “Talking Heads”, “Once In A Lifetime” when David Byrne asks, “Well, how did I get here…?”
“Kronors? Are they German?”, the bloke behind the counter of the shop asked me tonight.
As I took my cash out of my wallet, he’d obviously taken a peak inside and noticed the 50 kronor note (about $9) which I’ve kept in my wallet from my trip to Sweden earlier this year.
50 Kronor and a My Zone 1 bus pass. The bus pass is worth more.
Speaking of Sweden, I woke early this morning, and knowing my friend’s Sam and Patrick were in Sweden, and were at Skansen, the open air museum in Stockholm, I went to the SVT website to watch “Allsång på Skansen” which I knew they were attending.
For my money, “Allsång” is a great concept for a television variety program, and even though it’s “very Swedish” (there’s a Norwegian version too). I think it has great potential as a television program in Australia too.
Each week, only during summer, they have an outdoor sing-a-long program, where the public comes to the park and watches a range of Swedish favourites sing either a) their latest hit or b) a well-known Swedish song which the audience can sing-a-long with, as they all have copies of the latest book with the words. And if you can’t make it to the park, the words appear on the screen, so you can sing-a-long at home too.
It’s classic “family television”. In an Australian context, it’s “Carols by Candlelight” meets “Countdown” meets “Young Talent Time”. It’s secular hymn-singing, in some ways. There’s a degree of public humiliation thrown in too. It fills the market “Hey Hey” seeks to.
I can just see the program filmed around Australia over summer. Sidney Myer Music Bowl, Kings Park in Perth. Southbank in Brissie. Barnesy. Farnesy. Vanessa Amorosi. Money raised through SMS goes to charity. Hosted by David Campbell. I can just see it, though clearly I’ve spent too much time thinking through the format and discussing it with friends.
During the show, I didn’t spot Pam or Sam, but I was blown away by the performance of the Australian group, Ten Tenors. Among the band members, one gentleman showcased incredible Swedish language skills, which left the audience in awe.
The day started early for me, but despite that, it turned out to be both interesting and productive at work. As Wednesday rolled around, I made my way to the pub to unwind. There, we were entertained by The Best Judge, who regaled us with entertaining tales of moving house.
Interestingly, my friend Grant and two colleagues from work are soon heading to Sweden, along with another colleague’s mother-in-law. With Slussen, the main transport interchange in Stockholm, undergoing rebuilding, I couldn’t help but wonder if they should consider a direct tunnel to Sydney as well. Count me in—I’m more than happy to contribute 50 kronor to get that idea rolling!”
The jolly season is aproaching fast
Giving us a reason to be happy at last
I just wanna give you
The best that I have got
And it’s yours to keep
Waiting under the tree
You know it’s christmas in a week and a day
and I just can’t figure out what to give away
So I just wrap myself in paper for you baby
And then the christmas is past and long gone away
I’ll be right in your arms with a card that says
That I love you –
Merry christmas to you baby
We’re far from strangers
You’ve got a special glow
When we’re making angels in the beautiful snow
I just wanna give you
the love of my heart
And it’s yours to keep
Waiting under the tree
“Who was Alan Harrington?”, I asked the waiter at the Charcoal Restaurant in Canberra last night. “I’ve never met him”, she told me, “But I’ve met his son. He came here from the age of one”, she added. According to the waiter, Alan Harrington lives in Queensland now, but was a regular at the restaurant for many years. He was obviously regular enough to warrant his own name stamp at the restaurant, which I was told today was one of the longest running restaurants in Canberra.
Allan Harrington
There was definitely an olde worlde feel about the Charcoal Restaurant, and that’s what probably attracted me to it in the first place. After work, I was sitting and having a glass of wine and eating some olives at a nearby bar. As I began to look for nearby places to eat, there was nothing which really excited me. Sure, there were restaurants with hats (or should have had hats according to some critics), but there were also restaurants which sounded a little dodgy. My favourite was one which described the drinks as being expensive, but that was okay since it “kept out the riff-raff”. Hehehe.
So I wandered around London Circuit, and upon discovering everything was reasonably busy, I settled for the less busy place. The place where a single man could go in, grab a table, enjoy a meal by himself, read a book, and not have to worry too much about things. That’s how I ended up at Charcoal. To my right there was a group of young blokes keen for a good steak ahead of a night out on the town. Also to my right, there was an Australian bloke and his English partner, along with her parents. In front of me there were a few couples. I didn’t get the impression they were people looking for a sophisticated night out on the town. It didn’t matter too much to me, because I just wanted a quiet meal. One of the waiters was very good, the older woman, though I thought the young bloke, probably a student, seemed a little naive.
The steak was good value. Large. Tasty. Very happy with it all, and I’d definitely recommend Charcoal Restaurant, though I’d note the wine list is reasonably expensive. “It’s popular with lawyers and barristers”, I was told today. I guess it keeps out the riff-raff :)
Steak at the Charcoal Restaurant
I’m home now, after a week of travel. When I went to Canberra on Tuesday night, it was cold and wet, and there was a fair bit of turbulence on the plane. On arriving home tonight, it was much the same, since there have been major storms and flooding in Sydney in the time since I’ve been away.
My other dining experience was at a Thai restaurant in Dickson which was very good, though I’m struggling to remember the name of.
I do, however, remember the name of the place I stayed. I won’t name it here, because that’s my style, though I will say it was on the outskirts of town. ABARE was on this week, so Canberra was pretty heavily booked. Thus, I found myself relegated to accommodation that was actually in NSW, which was nice enough, and had a good shower, had nice blankets etc. But on the downside, was on the fringe of 3g connection (1-bar), and had an unreliable taxi-service. Another woman I spoke to, who was also staying there complained about having to wait 30-45 minutes for pre-booked taxis. “That’s Canberra taxis”, I was told.
That was about the only downside on an otherwise lovely trip to the nation’s capital.
Flying home tonight from Canberra
Oh yeah, and the delays coming home tonight due to the wild weather in Sydney. Still, the people from Qantas were friendly and nice, and I think we all understood the reasons why. And of course, we were all a bit sloshed having spent an hour or two waiting at Canberra Airport.
A few years had passed since my last attendance at Queerstories, the recurring LGBTQIA+ storytelling night in Sydney. My most recent visit was pre-COVID, and after a recent stint in the hospital, I decided to give it another try. Yet, concerns about mobility accessibility lingered as I contemplated navigating in and out of the venue.
A few months ago, attending was inconceivable; I heavily relied on my wheelchair due to the limited mobility with my prosthetic. However, with a month of not using my wheelchair, I felt ready to venture out again.
Disability became a central theme in the stories shared that night, particularly through Katia Schwartz, the founder of “Sky Sirens,” a former venue for burlesque classes near my home in Surry Hills. Katia, who lives with a hearing disability, formerly worked as a sex worker, and her narrative delved into her experiences with clients. The story primarily focused on the support and camaraderie Katia found among fellow sex workers, which I found truly heartening.
Katia Schwartz performs at Queer Stories using sign language, but with vocal “accompaniment” from someone in the audience.
A distinctive aspect of Katia’s story was its unique presentation — signed by Katia, with accompanying vocalisation from someone in the audience to my left. This departure from the “traditional” process, where someone on stage signs for a deaf audience, added a great dimension to the story-telling.
Other memorable moments from the night included Alastair Lawrie’s coming-out story, an intriguing offer to create porn for a cabaret performer from country Victoria, and tales of forming connections through pets at the dog park. The evening also featured some musical pieces about the establishment of a religion centered on atheism. Life’s richness lies in its diversity, eh?
Victoria Falconer performs at Queerstories
Seated next to a woman and her friend, both lesbians in their 50s/60s, we acknowledged the evolving landscape of LGBTQIA+ diversity. As I surveyed the predominantly 20s and 30s audience, I concurred with her observation that times had indeed changed since our youth.
They treated me to a glass of wine during intermission, and that was a significant reason I stayed until the end. Around halfway through, fatigue from my health condition set in, and thoughts of heading home early crossed my mind. Concerns about transportation and the lack of accessibility at the theater on Cleveland Street troubled me. Fortunately, Uber rides to and from nearby streets eased my worries. I learned online the theater has plans to enhance accessibility, which is great to hear. It’s a lovely venue, and a great place for a Thursday night outing.
It has been a full week of deep involvement with the limb loss and limb difference community, balancing personal rehabilitation with community connections.
On a personal front, I’ve started some therapeutic activities as part of a clinical trial focused on addressing phantom limb pain (PLP). PLP is a complex medical issue where discomfort originates from a limb that is no longer physically there. The trial aims to see what methods actually work and what doesn’t help address this unpredictable condition.
Over lunch yesterday, one friend shared his battle with severe pain—the kind of intense pain that prevents sleep. Even during that lunch, my friend noticed my residual leg twitch a few times, demonstrating how varied and involuntary the sensations can be.
My therapeutic activities are designed to address the neural miscommunication:
Left/Right Identification: Visual exercises to help the brain recalibrate its map.
Sensitivity Testing: Determining what my residual leg can feel.
Both of these are precursors to eventual mirror therapy, where visual input provides the brain with a plausible image of the missing limb moving normally, helping to recalibrate the brain map.
Mirror therapy is a treatment for phantom limb pain (PLP) that uses a mirror to create a visual illusion of the missing limb moving painlessly, thereby tricking the brain into correcting the faulty neural signal that causes the pain.
The discussion about PLP occurred at a lunch yesterday for amputees in Sydney hosted by the organisation Limbs for Life. These gatherings are invaluable. The shared experience allows for conversations that move very quickly to a deep level, whether we are discussing frustrations or shared joys.
This deep connection is what motivated me to start a personal project focused on collecting amputee stories—the unique narratives of limb loss and limb difference. The aim is to highlight the incredible resilience and varied experiences within this community, and then to offer a resource that might be useful for people with limb loss and limb difference, and their family and friends.
The accounts I’ve gathered so far demonstrate some compelling journeys of transforming trauma into purpose:
One story highlighted an uncompromising philosophy of “tough love” instilled by parents. Despite intense childhood bullying, the individual’s father provided pivotal advice that forced him to reframe his situation by asking: “Why not you?” This simple question completely changed his perspective, transforming his missing limb from a source of torment into his “greatest asset.” This philosophy of simply “getting on with life” is exemplified in his continued drive to push physical limits, including trekking the Kokoda Track twice, all while managing chronic pain.
Another powerful story came from a prominent advocate for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander rights whose path to amputation began unexpectedly in 2020 with a Charcot foot diagnosis, a severe complication of Type 2 diabetes. She refused to accept the passive patient role, taking control to choose amputation for pragmatic empowerment. Waking from surgery, the greatest distress came from the immediate institutional failure to manage expectations: the conditional word “if” instantly replaced the confident “when” regarding receiving a prosthetic. This lit a fire in her. She transformed her rehabilitation into an urgent, full-time commitment, remembering thinking, “I feel stronger now than I did before I went in for the amputation.”
Sometime next year, I’ll share these stories here, and on some other platforms.
On Friday night, my friend Michaela and I went to see the show Sing It, Louise upstairs at the Oxford Hotel. It was a good fun Broadway Tunes sing-along show inspired by Marie’s Crisis, an iconic, acoustic show tune piano bar in New York City’s West Village. The original New York venue is known for its intimate atmosphere where patrons gather around the piano, singing their hearts out alongside the pianist without a microphone, creating a spontaneous community vibe.
Sing It, Louise at Ginger’s, Oxford Hotel
We had a terrific time, though didn’t stay for the whole night because, well, we’re simply “getting a bit old these days” and appreciated an early night.
On Saturday, I had a lovely catch-up over coffee and cake with Andrew, whose blog I have followed for years. https://fromthehighrise.blogspot.com/ It was a terrific meeting as we discussed our changed and changing lives right now.
Chatting with a colleague yesterday, she told me she felt “terribly organised” for Christmas this year, in a way she hadn’t been previously. This surprised me, as she’s ordinarily a “terribly organised person” in my view. “It must be the placement of the days”, she told me. And indeed, it was lovely to have three days off in the middle of the week, though to be truthful it was probably only Christmas Day when I really took time out. This is a busy time of the year for me, as others take time off, and I “keep an eye on the shop”.
Christmas Day was spent chatting with relatives and friends on the phone and Skype, and in person, for lunch with a friend and her family at Bondi. What surprised me most was the growth of her niece and nephew. The last time I’d seen them was at my friend’s mother’s funeral six years ago. At the time, they were “awkward teenagers”. Several years later, they’re young adults.
Also this week, I went to see the film about Dick Cheney, called Vice. “Christian Bale is awesome playing a complete c…”, I texted a friend after the movie. It’s a good film, not a great one, as some of the more “theatrical” parts of the film seemed a little contrived, in my view. But I enjoyed it, and it was nice to spend a couple of hours in an air-conditioned cinema.
With three days off in the middle, work on Monday and Friday was extremely productive. The only downside at work was that the usual places I grab coffee and lunch were closed this week. Yesterday, I ended up wandering all the way to Darling Harbour to find lunch. My usual lunchtime places were closed, so I headed towards The Powerhouse (too crowded), and then towards two local pubs (neither of which were doing lunch), until finally, arriving at Darling Harbour, where I discovered Fratelli Fresh was open.
Chicken salad and a glass of wine for lunch? Don’t mind if I do.
I’ve been to Abisko!