It was a day to go “over the bridge”. Not the “Sydney Harbour Bridge”, but “over the bridge” nonetheless to Drummoyne. As I went to the 131500 website and searched for options from the City to Drummoyne I noticed a familiar bus route the M50. “I’m sure I’ve seen that route come through Surry Hills”, I thought to myself. And so I had. With a little more research, I discovered this recently installed “Metro” bus route goes all the way from Coogee to Drummoyne. Suddenly I realised I could walk a couple of hundred metres from my house to the bus stop, catch the bus, and then walk a couple of hundred metres at the end.
The view from Drummoyne
“Praise Kristina”, I thought myself, recognising that for all of the stuff ups of the NSW Government over the last few years, and the growing anger there is about public transport and public services more generally in NSW, I, for one, was mightily impressed with the new bus route that meant I could go from my place to Joan’s place for just a few dollars and in less than thirty minutes. “Praise Kristina”, I repeated.
I needed to travel “over the bridge” today for a special meeting of Hawkesbury One, the art collectors group I’m a member of. Today was an important meeting for many reasons, including planning for an exhibition of works from the collection at the Newcastle Regional Gallery. If you’re a particularly lovely blogger or friend, you’ll get an invitation to the official opening, but otherwise, I hope you’ll attend the exhibition nonetheless. It’s interesting because although there are other collectors groups in Australia, we’re unaware of any which has done such a major exhibition, and one which has generated as much publicity. Anyway, please check out the site, and if you think anyone you know would be interested, please tell them about what we do.
On arriving home I wrote up the minutes from the meeting, made a few navigation and cosmetic sites to the website, and then had a little lie-down.
Later tonight I caught up with some mates for a few drinks. Also at the bus stop, I also briefly saw a bloke I met recently who I thought was a pretty nice guy, but whose phone number I’d lost in changing phones. Praise Kristina, yet again.
“Southies don’t run, mate”. Jack is quoted in today’s Sydney Morning Herald feature about the catastrophic Lismore floods, four months ago.
The heartwrenching article was written by Heath Gilmore, and the beautiful photograph of Jack and Sam was taken by Jacklyn Wagner.
The awesome thing about both journalists is they’re “locals”. They’re not “fly-in/fly-out” journalists only interested in a headline. Heath was born and raised in Lismore, and his family still lives locally. Jacklyn is a long-term local. Both care deeply about the town, its future, and the people they’ve spoken to. Both have told me covering the story has been an emotional experience.
Jack and Sam in the Sydney Morning Herald Pic: Jacklyn WagnerJack in today’s “Sydney Morning Herald” Pic: Jacklyn Wagner
Other family members, Karran, Willow, Shyloh, and Ryan were all photographed by Jacklyn who showed considerable care as she worked with my family members (and many others) on the photographs.
The article says state member for Lismore, Janelle Saffin is working with Jacklyn on an exhibition of photographs to show at the NSW Parliament, and there’s hope a book will be published to raise money and awareness. I’m hoping I’ll be in Sydney for the opening, to see the other photographs. I suspect it will be an emotional experience, as the stories are recounted.
Pat and Jack are “moving home” this weekend, and the article talks about how he and many others want to say, despite the urgings of other people they should pack up and move.
Sitting on the bare boards of the kitchen floor as they spoke, I was one of those who nodded, holding back some tears.
In the midst of all the tears from Lismore, this flood rescue story in today’s Sydney Morning Herald is giving locals a lot of laughs. I love the way Nikki told the story so clearly, and how Heath captured it.
As noted here and here, I enjoyed a terrific weekend catching with some current and former members of ABBAMAIL/Village, and watching Melodifestivalen with an assortment of Swedophiles, friends, and one Swede.
With thanks to Graeme, here are some photographs from the weekend…
Patrick Blake, Sam Appleton
Sam Appleton, Cotton Ward
James O’Brien, Louisa Cordle, Patrick Blake, Cotton Ward
Louisa Cordle, Cotton Ward, Grant Whittingham, Mikey Lynch, Nathan
Judy Sawyer, Patrick Blake
James O’Brien, Grant Whittingham
Mikey Lynch, Judy Sawyer
Mikey Lynch, Judy Sawyer
Mikey Lynch, Judy Sawyer
Patrick Blake, James O’Brien, Grant Whittingham
Patrick Blake, James O’Brien, Grant Whittingham
Mikey Lynch, Judy Sawyer, Patrick Blake
Graeme Read and Mikey Lynch
Greg Roberts and Mikey Lynch
Jeff Roberts and Greg Roberts
Grant Whittingham and Graeme Read
Mikey Lynch and Patrick Blake
Mikey Lynch and Patrick Blake
Mikey Lynch, Cotton Ward, James O’Brien
Patrick Blake, Cotton Ward and James O’Brien
Patrick Blake and James O’Brien
Patrick Blake and James O’Brien
Mikey Lynch
Mikey Lynch
Patrick Blake
Grant Whittingham, Graeme Read (back) and Greg Roberts
I don’t recall the very first dance party I attended, but it would have been in the early 90s. I do, however, clearly remember my first Mardi Gras in 1989—enjoying the festivities with friends from Bourke and Sydney.
At the time, whether I was living in Renmark or Wagga Wagga, I made the trek to Sydney specifically for those parties. Without sounding too nostalgic (or “boomerish”—and for the record, I’m not a Boomer!), they truly were memorable occasions. I can still vividly recall the music, the incredible art direction, and the sense of inclusive, mixed crowds. It’s hard to believe those memories are now 30 or 35 years old.
Some of those moments came rushing back tonight at a preview launch for a new documentary titled House of Love, which a friend of mine is producing. The film dives into the late 80s and early 90s—the era of the RAT parties and the massive events that turned Australia into a global leader in dance culture. Back then, we were at the forefront of innovation, with people travelling from the UK, Europe, and America just to experience the Australian scene.
We saw a “sizzle reel” of the project, and it was wonderful to see familiar faces and incredible archival footage from that era. There were some fantastic anecdotes shared, particularly about Grace Jones. Her appearances at those Sydney parties were career-defining moments—even if she often jokes that she can’t remember a thing about them!
The production has recorded a wealth of material and is now seeking funding to bring the full story to life. If you’d like to support the film or know someone who might, here are the details on how to get involved.
On the other hand I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life.
I’ve never been tempted.
And it’s kinda surprising because I grew up in an extended family with people who drank and smoked quite a bit.
Thus, I wax and wane between finding smoking really objectionable and not caring so much.
Sometimes I find cigarettes really objectionable. Visiting Copenhagen a few weeks ago, for example, where they still allow smoking in bars was quite a wake up call. It was quite a reminder about how much I actually really dislike smoking.
Other times I don’t worry so much. Usually at parties, for example, I hang out with the smokers. They get to stand outside, they get to hang around in groups. I like that.
I also wax and wane between feeling sorry for the modern stigma associated with people who smoke, and feeling they should all just come to their senses and give up.
I think many other people share these mixed feelings I have.
When I watched the news tonight – sorry, I mean the 7pm Project – they talked about the price increase and the new “world-leading” decision for generic packaging.
They also mentioned the smoking rate is now down to 19%, and that a further price increase is likely to force about 10% of smokers to give up.
I know how difficult I would find to give up alcohol, so I wish all of my friends who are now thinking about giving up smoking all the best.
I’m currently in Norrköping, about 75 minutes south-west of Stockholm (via the fast train). It was never one of those towns I really wanted to see like Kiruna or Narvik (on my last trip). I came here on a bit of a whim: to see Helen Sjöholm live in concert.
Helen is a Swedish singer who has worked extensively with Bjorn and Benny in their musicals, with Benny in his BAO, and as a performer on stage and screen. In fact, she is probably best “unknown” from her role in the film, “Sa som I himlen” (“as it is in heaven”) which screened for two or three years at a cinema in Sydney. She’s the woman who lives with domestic violence.
So, a bit of a whim, but why not?
After a good night’s sleep I woke early this morning. Although I was tempted to go out last night to check out the nightlife of Stockholm, the lure of central heating kept me rugged up in my hotel room. I watched some television, including a Swedish dancing program called, “Let’s Dance” which was reasonably easy to follow.
And there was a Norwegian chat show which featured, amongst others, Al Gore as a special guest. As a language exercise it was quite interesting, since the program was conducted in English, Swedish and Norwegian, often simultaneously. The bits in Norwegian and English were both subtitled in Swedish which was good practice for me. I find that I can read better than I can listen, so if only the people of Stockholm could walk around with Swedish subtitles, and I’d be very happy.
I actually skim-read a newspaper this morning, concentrating on the bits that interested me most, such as tonight’s Melodifestivalen.
I also noticed a new subset of guests had arrived at the hotel, members of the Centre Party (which I think is a bit like The Democrats were, though I could be wrong).
With a wonderful late check out at The Clarion – midday – I wandered in to town to purchase my train ticket to Norrköping. I also spent some time walking around Djurgarden which looks absolutely stunning with all the snow. And in such contrast to the last time I was here when there were boats sailing up and down the water and the grass was lush enough to have a good afternoon sleep on. You couldn’t do that now.
And yet, in the midst of the sub-zero temperatures I’m starting to feel quite okay. It must be the sun which is genuinely warm on your face. Don’t be surprised if I come home with a tan. For the last two days I’ve been feeling a little “rugged up” with my many layers of clothing. But today, as I walked about wearing a shirt, a scarf, a jumper and my puffer jacket, I suddenly didn’t feel so fat anymore. Well, not fat looking anyway.
The river on the right, the path and the gardens of Djurgarden
Everywhere you go people are wearing much the same clothing. People seem to express their individuality in both their scarves and their headgear. I wasn’t going to say anything before this, in case I was being culturally insensitive about traditional Sami (indigenous people of Sweden) headgear, but these Swedes wear some crazy things on their heads during winter.
I’ve seen a lot of hand-knitted by mormor (grandma) beanies and far too many “Daniel Boone” hats. And, although I understand the cultural background associated with full-length fur coats, I note that it’s “crazy looking older women” who wear them, not the stylish young things of today.
This afternoon I caught the train to Norrköping. Along the way we passed through endless fields of snow which, to be honest, looks a little bit the same after a while. I wonder if this is how Swedes feel when they catch trains in Australia passing through endless hours of gum trees? Australians of course, can see the difference between different types of bushlands, and I’m sure the Swedes can see more variety in the snow than I can.
The arrival in Norrköping was a bit of a surprise. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. But after the last few days in Stockholm, I was quickly reminded I had arrived in a country town. In home terms, I’m guessing it’s a Newcastle or a Hobart. It’s not a village, but it’s also not a huge city either. It’s large enough to have an arts scene and a university, but it’s still small enough for a weekend afternoon to include “doing a blockie”. And thus on a Saturday afternoon, the streets were reasonably empty, although there was a lot of activity around the service station and the railway station.
Having eventually found a tourist map, I found my hotel. It’s not as glamorous as The Clarion, but it’s quite nice, nonetheless. Although it’s a hotel – Hotel Drott – it has the feeling of a bed and breakfast. The room is large enough for one, although the television is large enough for five. It’s huge.
A late afternoon beer followed at The Bishops Arms which was near perfect aside from awful music they played on the public address system.
It was bland reggae influenced cover versions of songs by, amongst others, The Beatles and Bob Dylan. Can you imagine? By the way, later tonight I went into another pub, and they were playing awful reggae as well. And that was at another English-style pub. It must be this towns thing.
One of the things which struck me immediately on arrival was the cultural diversity of the place. There were, seemingly, lots of faces from the Middle East and Southern Europe. I think I read somewhere that Norrköping has been home to many, many migrants. And you can see it reasonably instantly when you arrive in town. You can also see it in the churches in town, as there’s both a synagogue and a Methodist church not far from where I’m staying.
After my beer, I came home briefly and then headed quickly to the concert hall where the show was being held.
By the time I arrived – twenty minutes before the show – the place was already packed with gays and greys. It was like going out for a night of theatre in Sydney (or Wagga, for that matter).
Although I’d booked the ticket a few months ago, I hadn’t looked closer at the detail, aside from the show featuring Helen Sjoholm, the Norrköpings Symfoniorkester and Fredrik Lycke. I was both pleased and disappointed that it was a tribute to Stephen Sondheim. I love Sondheim, but I also hoped Helen might do a few of her other hits. But that wasn’t to be, although there was a joke earlier in the show when Helen began to sing her bit hit song from Kristina, and then stopped saying “not tonight”.
It was a terrific show, featuring some of my favourite Sondheim numbers including, “Losing My Mind” (sung by Fredrik) and “Another Hundred People” (sung by Helen). I would have LOVED Helen to have sung, “Ladies Who Lunch” but that wasn’t to be. It was fascinating to hear some of the songs sung in Swedish and some of them sung in English. Helen, of course, sang beautifully, though if push came to shove, I’d admit a preference for when she sings in Swedish. She sounds so much more dramatic in Swedish, which I guess is partly because she softens her consonant sounds when she sings in English.
I also learned a few interesting cultural things tonight about concert going in a Swedish country town tonight, such as the intermission snack, with many people having pre-ordered a table and meal, and the cloak room. Let me tell you, the queue to get out of a concert where EVERYONE has handed in something into the cloak-room rivals Sydney airport check-in on a really bad day.
Helen Sjoholm on stage in Norrkoping
After the show I wandered out behind the concert hall and noticed a few of Helen’s fans standing by the concert door. I’d noticed them earlier in the night as a group of four women sitting in the front row. At the end of the show they all brought out large cameras and snapped a few photographs which, interestingly, Helen acknowledged on stage with a smile and a pose.
Seeing the women lining up, I thought to myself, “why not wait around and check her out in person also”. She came out reasonably quickly, smiled, chatted and signed some photographs. As I didn’t have anything on me, I asked simply, “Helen, may I please take a photograph” which she happily said yes to. The rest of the crowd moved slightly aside, Helen struck a pose, and I got my photograph. I said, “thankyou” and moved on.
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Sorry this comment isn’t relevant to the post but I immediately thought of you when I read this. Maybe you are already onto it. Do you have a contact email link on your blog?
VOLUNTEER IN THE POWERHOUSE MUSEUM: Want to share your love of ABBA with ABBAWORLD visitors? We are looking for volunteers to help enrich visitors’ experience. Volunteers will provide excellent customer service by: welcoming and directing visitors; sharing their specialist knowledge of ABBA; assisting visitors with the use of the exhibition’s interactives; and assisting visitors to move smoothly through the exhibition. If this sounds like you, and you have some time to spare time from January 2011, email us at volunteercentre@phm.gov.au
Rozie, thanks for thinking of me. It would be a fun thing to do – and I know someone doing it – but things are reasonably busy right now. I saw the exhibition in Melbourne, but apparently it’s a little different here with additional Australian tour material.
Sorry this comment isn’t relevant to the post but I immediately thought of you when I read this. Maybe you are already onto it. Do you have a contact email link on your blog?
VOLUNTEER IN THE POWERHOUSE MUSEUM: Want to share your love of ABBA with ABBAWORLD visitors? We are looking for volunteers to help enrich visitors’ experience. Volunteers will provide excellent customer service by: welcoming and directing visitors; sharing their specialist knowledge of ABBA; assisting visitors with the use of the exhibition’s interactives; and assisting visitors to move smoothly through the exhibition. If this sounds like you, and you have some time to spare time from January 2011, email us at volunteercentre@phm.gov.au
Rozie, thanks for thinking of me. It would be a fun thing to do – and I know someone doing it – but things are reasonably busy right now. I saw the exhibition in Melbourne, but apparently it’s a little different here with additional Australian tour material.