Is this the worst day of the year or what? For the last six months, I’ve been arriving home from work most days and there’s been time to go for a walk, sit outside in the sunshine, and do all kinds of lovely things. But then tonight, just before six I looked out my window and noted it was almost dark. Oh my goodness, I hate the winter!
This might seem odd for a Swedo-phile to say, but I really don’t like the cold and I really don’t like the winter. I like my sunshine. My ideal months are probably spring and autumn when all feels good with the world, though summer is pretty good too. But winter, even in a mild climate like Sydney, I mean, what kind of season is that?
Getting dark on Cleveland Street, Surry Hills
For us in Sydney, winter is the time when we go week after week when it’s cold and wet. When we’re forced to wear scarves. When we’re forced to wear “Melbourne Clothes”. When we need to drag out the heaters even if there’s only a borderline differentiation between needing and not needing them. And when we, inevitably go a little stir-crazy after three or four days when it rains, and when it’s cloudy and dark. Put simply, we’re not a city built for winter.
And nor am I.
Mixed entree and fish cakes
And tonight it all started again. And I face this year without any clear travel plans, aside from a trip home to Lismore to visit my family, and maybe an interstate trip or two with work. But so far, I have nothing in mind which would allow me a break in the middle of another bleak winter.
Hey, I know it could be worse. I could live in the north of Sweden and experience several months of almost complete dark, followed by several months of almost complete light. It’s all relative I guess.
Anyway, so after coming home, I decided to head out for a quick meal too, hopefully, improve my mood. I went to my nearby thai and enjoyed just a couple of entrees. Pure bliss. But I still can’t help but feeling it’s the start of a long, awful period of dismal weather until spring kicks in again sometime in August. Best of all? The first weekend of October when daylight saving commences again.
“It was a good class tonight” Grant said to me, and I agreed, as we made our way along the street after tonight’s Swedish class.
Being an inherently lazy person, the one thing I hate about Swedish class are the repetitive grammar exercises.
On the other hand, I LOVE the conversation, I LOVE reading out loud, and I LOVE doing creative exercises.
One of the bits of homework, this week, for example, was to write a short piece about relatives. So I wrote a paragraph about my great-grandmother, Ellen Laing. Interestingly, the exact translation of great-grandmother is “mother’s mother’s mother”. With the way many ways in which Swedes name their relatives, you could also have something like “mother’s father’s mother” or even “father’s mother’s brother”. Etc. etc. etc.
Anyway, this is what I wrote
Jag ar intresserad av släktforskning. Sedan många år, har jag avslutat mina studier. Min mormors mor heter Ellen Laing. Hon bodde i Towamba, en småstad nära Eden i New South Wales. Historien om Ellen var sorglig. Hon hade fyra barn. Alla var illegitima. Två hade pappa, William Rixon, och två hade en obekant pappa. William Rixon var egentligen Ellens kusin. Ellen bodde och arbetade i Bombala många år. Hon var inte gift. Hon bodde en och avled på en utfattig vårdanstalt kvinnor
…which basically means that I am interested in family history and have studied it for many years. My great-grandmother, Ellen Laing lived in Towamba, a small town near Eden. Her story was very sad. She had four children, all were illegitimate. Two mentioned her cousin William Rixon as the father, whereas two listed father unknown. William had a family of his own, whereas Ellen didn’t and she lived for many years alone in Bombala. She lived and died in an destitute women’s asylum.
It’s a great story, eh?
But anyway, that’s the stuff I really love doing. And tonight was a good combination between the creative stuff which I love, and some of the rote learning stuff I know I need to put more effort into.
“There’s nothing like a few hours at MONA to clear your brain…” I said to an older woman I shared the lift with a few hours ago. In contrast to her view there was “so much to think about”, my view is that a visit to MONA helps you “not think”. You come in, forget about the world, and immerse yourself in a world of creativity. Even though I’ve visited MONA a few times before, it still overwhelms me: the beauty; the thoughtfulness of the works; the passion.
Visiting today, I really loved this work, featuring topical words projected on an artificial waterfall.
Like “White Rabbit” in Sydney, MONA is a “gift” from a wealthy individual, that easily outranks many of the public galleries in Australia. It’s understandable, since the public galleries are hopelessly underfunded in comparison with what the multi-millionaire/billionaire owners of these two private galleries are able to offer.
Unlike the public galleries who face scrutiny for every purchase they make (undoubtedly, it’s part of the legacy of the controversy of the early 70s purchase of Jackson Pollock’s Blue Poles) these gallery owners can pretty much purchase whatever their credit cards will afford. And it pays off. For me at least, since I prefer “edgier” work.
Here’s some of my favourite works from spending a few hours at MONA earlier today.
As a post-script, I should add this is not a slight on public galleries.
A mate from Sydney who is a tradie called me today for a chat.
“I haven’t worked in about six weeks”, he told me, adding that he had a couple of days work this week and that he has a couple of days coming up.
“But they want me to go out to Blacktown and other hot spots”, he said.
“Central is empty and there’s police everywhere”, he added.
He said he was pleased and maybe a little bit envious that I was well away from it all.
Well, not completely well away from it all.
People in Lismore, I told him, are wearing masks, even when they don’t necessarily need to. Lismore is probably a different case to some other towns in the region, such as Byron Bay and Mullumbimby, where there’s a significant anti-vaxxer movement, and Qanon-related skepticism around COVID.
“The pubs are still open”, I told him, adding to his envy, as he likes a drink. We met at our local pub back in Surry Hills.
He’s originally from Ireland. “The pubs back home are just starting to open up properly”, he said, adding, “But you need to show proof of vaccination”.
Got this on my phone.
As of this week, I have “proof of vaccination”. On Wednesday, I had my second Astra Zeneca vaccination at the Lismore Clinic. Unlike last time, there were no side effects. In fact, I hardly felt the needle.
Lismore Clinic Medical Centre
Going to the Lismore Clinic Medical Centre also gave me an insight into my later life. The busy waiting room was full of older people, though not significantly older than me.
And then I went to the Centrelink / Medicare office.
Do you get where I’m going with this?
For quite some time I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to link my MyGovID and Medicare accounts. I shared this problem with people on Twitter, and there were many who agreed with my post about how difficult it can be.
Though I’m very good with computers and stuff, I sometimes have problems with computer systems recognising my surname, due to the apostrophe. This time around, the problem was that some parts of my identification recognise that I have two middle names, and others don’t.
I had pretty much recognised that was the problem, and so I figured the best way to resolve it was to go into an office and have everything standardised.
I knew in an instant the woman assigned to me was that office’s answer to Carol from Little Britain, the extremely unhelpful person known for the catchphrase “Computers says no”.
As I’m away from home I wasn’t able to show all the necessary identification to make the changes, even though I have them electronically, and so she said I would have to ring the call centre. “But I can’t show them the paper identification either”, I implored her. I don’t know if she got my reference to “Computer says no” when I told her I would do that.
And from there I was back and forward to call centres, between MyGov, Medicare and the ATO.
Finally, I found someone who was extremely helpful. She explained the problem was my first piece of identification came from the Tax Office and that’s where the inconsistency was. “Let’s just start from scratch”, she said. Within minutes, she had resolved the problem.
If that sounds like a fairly mundane highlight of the week, there has been lots more happening.
I took a visit today to visit a friend’s mother who lives in Alstonville. I went to badge draws and meat trays at the Lismore Workers Club, and on Wednesday night, a few of us went to the monthly comedy night at a local pub, the same one I wrote about a few weeks ago.
“You were here last month”, the comedian MC said to me, recognising me as the but of her jokes as “Mr Surry Hills”. When she asked about the others, I told her we were all related, and our other connection was South Lismore. “So you’re all in-bred”, she joked.
Growing up I was well aware of a bit of inbreeding in some of the smaller local communities. Indeed, my own grandmother’s parents were first cousins. Two families, lots of children. That was on the Far South Coast over 100 years ago, and I remember once asking someone about how common this was in some of the smaller rural communities, I was told, “You knew exactly what you were getting when you married your cousin!”.
Though Lismore has around 50,000 people in the main town area, it’s still a small town in many ways. I recognise people in the street all the time and have people say hello to me and smile with familiarity. The bus driver that takes me to work now recognises me and knows exactly where I’m getting off the bus. And I’ve had a couple of lengthy discussions with the Lismore Workers Club Courtesy Bus Driver who knew Nancy from her many visits there to play the pokies.
One of my favourite anecdotes which illustrates this is from a family member who was out on the town a number of years ago and was being chatted up by a younger man. Eventually, they established the young man had actually gone to school with her son. And when they chatted further, they also realised the same man had been in a relationship (and had children) with one of our cousins.
The level of familiarity of being back in Lismore is both endearing and disturbing.
My electricity bill tells me I probably used my heater far too much this year. Though we enjoy fairly mild winters in Sydney, there’s usually two or three weeks where it gets quite chilly, and there’s fairly regular rain. I’m trying to do my bit for the environment by reducing my carbon imprint by wearing warmer clothes rather than sitting around the house in summer clothing and relying on the heater. This year, the electricity bill is a fair deal higher than last year, largely reflecting the fact I’ve been working from home since March, and my heater use.
The view from my apartment window in August.The view from my apartment window only a few minutes ago.
Here in Surry Hils, the local economy remains depressed due to the pandemic. I think there’s also the factor of a changing economy, as we transition (outside of the pandemic) from regular shops to online purchases and centralisation.
It’s been a cold and wet weekend in Sydney. For the first time in a couple of weeks I’m wearing a pullover. A perfect weekend for indoor activities.
Catching up with friends yesterday at a nearby pub.
I’ve also caught up for lunch with some former and current colleagues.
One of the really great things of the last week has been catching up with workmates for the AWEI (Australian Workplace Equality Index) Awards for LGBTQI inclusion. We hadn’t seen each other for several months, and so it was great to catch-up, and to get dressed up. And have a drink or three afterwards.
And I’ve been to the movies a couple of times in the last week or so.
“Aren’t you worried about catching COVID-19?”, a number of people have asked, when I’ve mentined going to the cinema. “No, I’m often the only person in the room”, I’ve explained.
Though many people like going to the movies in the evenings, I’m more of a fan of screenings in the morning. Over the last year, as I’ve taken Wednesdays as rec leave, I’ve often gone to screenings at about 10am. Even on the weekends, it’s my preferred time.
Maybe it’s a throw back to Saturday mornings “at the pictures” at the Start Court Arcade in Lismore. At the risk of sounding like someone who is much older, I remember when you could go to a Saturday screening for as little as 20c (later 50c, and even later $1.20).
More likely, I really like the concentration headspace you have in the mornings, whereas in the afternoons or in the evenings, I can sometimes nod off. In the mornings, my brain (at least) is more engaged.
And that was certainly the case last Saturday when I went to see “I Am Greta”, the story of Greta Thunberg, the young woman from Sweden famous for her climate strikes. Amongst friends and family, I’ve been surpised to discover she’s been a polarising figure. Even though I have friends and family who are climate skeptics, it’s not only those who are “Greta Skeptics”.
“I know I shouldn’t say this, but she shits me”, a friend who feels passionately in favour of doing more about climate change told me. “There’s so many other young people doing their bit”, she told me when we caught up in the last couple of weeks. “In the film she acknowledges that”, I told her, adding there’s a moment when Greta reflects that she’s probably invited to speak “so people can be seen to be doing the right thing” (or words to that effect).
The film is a really interesting one. It starts with her first climate strike outside the Swedish parliament, and ends with her speech to the United Nations. The early footage of her in Sweden is fascinating to watch. Along the way, you see her experiences of going from that small-scale experience to achieving a much greater global impact.
Despite this global recognition, you also see that she’s a teenage girl who loves her dogs, and who is influenced by her family. You never get the sense she’s a mouthpiece for her parents. In fact, there are many moments where you see her parents seeking to moderate her, as other parents might. “Greta, you have to eat”, her father says to her at one point. By the way, he’s a rather famous Swedish actor, and her mother is a famous Swedish opera singer (who also represented Sweden at Eurovison). In the film, however, they’re just mum and dad.
The other film I’ve seen in the last couple of weeks was “Corpus Christi”. It’s a Polish film based on the true story of a young man with criminal convictions who wants to become a Catholic priest. Though his background would prevent him from doing that, circumstances allow it to occur. In a small community, he becomes an important figure allowing the community to begin the process of healing, following the tragic death of a number of people in a car crash.
“This is one of the best films I’ve seen in the last couple of years”, I said to my friend as we left the movie. She agreed heartily. The combination of the story, the acting, the emotion and the humour made it it highly enjoyable. “I wanted to go to the bathroom half way through”, I joked, “but I just couldn’t leave the cinema”. There’s one moment of extreme violence where we both had to look away, but aside from that, we both loved this film. I’d highly recommend it.
A few years ago a former colleague and I joked (on Twitter) about how much we both loved election nights. The sense of drama. The winners. The losers. “I could watch an Estonian election and, without knowing the language, still enjoy it”, I recall her saying. Although she’s been tweeting about the Scottish referendum, she’s been noticeably quiet on the Swedish election which, in contrast, I’ve been following closely. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I spent quite a few hours yesterday watching SVT’s coverage of this year’s Swedish election, the first time I’ve done so.
While in Australia, we go through the ritual of a seat by seat analysis of the results as they come in, the Swedes make one big announcement at a predetermined time. In Australia, we have to sit through the agony of phrases such as “it’s just a handful of votes from a couple of small booths”. But in Sweden, they literally have a “countdown” where all of the results are revealed at once. A clock “ticks down” on the television screen to the “big reveal”. “The results are in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…” Seeing the results revealed in this manner was like watching “Big Brother”. There were cameras at all of the venues where the party faithful had gathered. Applause at some; tears at others.
Swedish Election coverage on SVT, as they count down to the results.These are the results.
But even then, the results weren’t clear. Yes, the Red-Green Alliance had gained the highest number of votes, but not enough to control the parliament. Remember Australia 2010? The anti-immigration party, the Swedish Democrats with over 10% (now a day later, almost 13% of the vote) seemed to have the balance of power. But that doesn’t mean they will have such a role, if the Red-Green Alliance can attract the Centre Party or the Liberal Party (members of the Right Wing Alliance) to join them to form a majority in parliament. On top of that, all of the parties can in theory put forward their own budgets which can be voted on. It’s the kind of uncertainty the Australian media and political types on Twitter would abhore. We like our politics “black and white” in Australia. Left and right. Good and bad.
The political parties in Sweden, aside from the Swedish Democrats and the Left Party (a remnant of the former Communist Party), all tend toward the centre. Indeed, most of the parties would appear to be on the “left” in an Australian context. The former centre-right government had about 50% representation of women in cabinet, as an example of how switched on the Swedes are, compared to just one female member of cabinet in Australia’s centre-right government.
The Swedes also have a “women’s party”, the Feminist Initiative which has been heavily bankrolled by Benny Andersson from ABBA.
In an Australian context, you might say the Swedes have voted out the “right wing of the ALP” and have installed the “left wing of the ALP”.
Kate, a friend of hers and I went to the opening of the Jumaadi exhibition at Sydney’s Watters Gallery. I first met Jumaadi a couple of years ago, as he was part of the exhibition, Crossing Boundaries curated by Kate, as part of Lunar New Year celebrations in Sydney. Jumaadi is from Indonesia, but has lived in Australia for a number of years.
Though I wasn’t a fan of the paintings in this exhibition, I REALLY loved the papercuts, and I REALLY loved the installation work. The papercuts were beautiful. As they were hanged throughout the exhibition space, there were lots of opportunities to “engage” with them.
And the installation? There was so much to see. A wonderfully engaging work of faces, limbs and even shoes! As there were lots of people taking photographs of the installation work, I really hope the exhibition is successful and he makes lots of sales.
Jumaadi 2016 Confessions at Watters Gallery
Jumaadi 2016 Confessions at Watters Gallery
Jumaadi 2016 Confessions at Watters Gallery
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The cold and the rain I can deal with, it’s the short days/lack of light I can’t handle. My productivity out of work hours almost comes to a standstill – you get home and you want to watch TV, surf the net and go to bed – nothing else. I also think it gets worse as I get older – no idea why.
sheesh what a dramatic title for a post. I was expecting something much more hollywood worthy, lol
you should head north for the winter bellinen and byron are nice warm escapes :)
not sure whether it’s the cold the wet or the dark that’s the worst…
and on the upside it’s great weather for steamed dumplings, soup noodles, barbequed meats and curries :)
i’m not feeling it too bad i spent a lot of my summer in vic- and it was hot hot hot AND cold cold cold. too many extremes in a day…I think I prefer when I know what clothes to be prepared with when I go out!
The cold and the rain I can deal with, it’s the short days/lack of light I can’t handle. My productivity out of work hours almost comes to a standstill – you get home and you want to watch TV, surf the net and go to bed – nothing else. I also think it gets worse as I get older – no idea why.
sheesh what a dramatic title for a post. I was expecting something much more hollywood worthy, lol
you should head north for the winter bellinen and byron are nice warm escapes :)
not sure whether it’s the cold the wet or the dark that’s the worst…
and on the upside it’s great weather for steamed dumplings, soup noodles, barbequed meats and curries :)
i’m not feeling it too bad i spent a lot of my summer in vic- and it was hot hot hot AND cold cold cold. too many extremes in a day…I think I prefer when I know what clothes to be prepared with when I go out!
With a headline like that I could get myself a job at a tabloid paper!