Birthday Cup-Cakes


A few weeks ago my sister asked me if I was on Skype? This surprised me at the time, because she’s never really been one interested in computers or technology.
Skype, of course, is quite a different thing: it’s about communication. And so when she became aware of the technology, and in particular, the idea of video calls, she became quite interested. With assistance from her grandson and niece, we’ve conducted a few video calls since then.
As we spent Christmas Eve together, I gave her a few lessons in using Skype herself from computer set-up to computer set-down. She’s been a great student. I’ve managed to add a few relevant addresses for her too. Thus, Christmas Eve became a connector for her for family and friends near and far.
More importantly, she’s now empowered to make these connections herself. Aside from the lovely electronic photo-frame I bought her, I think this is probably the best Christmas gift I could give this year.
I guess it means I’ll have to start wearing clothes – I mean shirts – at home more often in case she calls unexpectedly. :)
In the midst of all the posters on Götgatan (the main street of Södermalm) promoting concerts, festivals, comedy nights, and dance clubs, there was one I saw the other week which really stood out. In contrast to the all the other posters which were very “busy”, this poster portrayed a single image of twenty-something woman (a woman living with a disability) dressed beautifully and holding flowers.
As I was heading off to Turkey in a day or two, I didn’t have the time or attention to find out more, and so I snapped and image and made a mental note to re-visit this.
In my post-Turkey days back in Stockholm, I was determined to find out more about the exhibition. A bit of Google-ing revealed the poster was there to promote an exhibition of photographs by Stefan Bremer currently showing at the Finnish Institute in Stockholm>
The associated publicity explains…
Duva/Diva is a photographic collection created by DuvTeatern in co-operation with photographer Stefan Bremer, Blue Flamenco School of Dance, costume designer Paula Varis and graphic designer Maria Appelgren. The photographs are inspired by the beauty and glamour of the world of the opera, the proud and sensual flamenco dance, the dramatic story of Carmen and the roles developed by the performers in Carmen, Bird of Prey – a variation of Bizet’s opera Carmen. Carmen, Bird of Prey premiered in January 2011 and was a co-production between DuvTeatern, Finnish National Opera and Blue Flamenco School of Dance.
Ever since its establishment DuvTeatern has challenged common conventions and conceptions of theatre by raising such questions as who has the right to be on stage and who is a real actor. The encounter with the world of the opera and its professional singers further highlighted these themes and enabled both performers and spectators to reconsider our notions of professionalism, self-esteem and beauty. For what is beauty? Who is worthy of admiration? And, finally, who is the true Diva?
The realisation of this series of photographs was made possible thanks to the sincere commitment of the eight actors of DuvTeatern and the four dancers of the Blue Flamenco School of Dance. This publication is a tribute to them: to their dedicated, creative and ambitious approach towards their work as actors and dancers.

There’s about twenty or thirty photographs in the exhibition, and they’re all absolutely compelling. In some exhibitions where there’s a lot of similarity in the style of imagery, you can find yourself browsing the works, walking quickly from one to the next. That wasn’t the case with this exhibition. As the works were all very personal, I felt compelled to spend time with each of them, and to look closely into the eyes of the people portrayed.

There’s also a video of the actual theatrical production, and so you get a sense of what that was like also.
If you’re in Stockholm over the next few weeks, I’d highly recommend this beautiful exhibition.


There were lots of reasons to smile today.
After getting into work early, I popped into the David Jones Food Hall for lunch.
Seated beside me was a woman who I would best describe as a combination of Edina from Ab-Fab and Noelene from Sylvania Waters. And I mean that in a charmingly, good way.
In the half hour or so we sat next to each other, she must have made half a dozen calls to various family members, during which she discussed “the boat”, the daughter who doesn’t love her and who is a “stupid as her father” (her ex), and her son’s new girlfriend.
“You know she threw up straight after Christmas lunch”, she said to her son. “How long have you known her? Six months? Do you love her? I think she’s pregnant. But darling if you love her, and you want to spend your life with her I’m happy to sponsor her to keep her in the country”, she added.
All of this was happening while she was knocking back a couple of glasses of Chandon, and frankly, I thought I was going to wet my pants laughing, as the family conversations got even more and more detailed. These were not quiet conversations, and I suspect the couple on the other side were enjoying them as much as I did.
Another reason to smile today was the lovely weather, with Hyde Park absolutely full, as people enjoyed the sunshine after several cloud days.
And coming back to Surry Hills, I spotted a lovely car decorated with “Just Married” signs. Awwww :)
After a late afternoon nap – it’s actually a public service holiday – I caught up with John for dinner in Newtown.
I’ve known John now for almost 20 years, and we had lots to chat about.
So overall, a day in which there were many reasons to smile.
The thing about art gallery opening nights in Sydney is that they often”clump together”. They’re often on a Thursday night or a Saturday afternoon, and they’re often at exactly the same time. 6-8pm on Thursday. 2-4pm on Saturday. This is both good and bad. On the bad side, it means you sometimes have to rush between openings; on the good side it means you can move on if you think the work isn’t that interesting.
The latter is what happened for my friend and I. We were excited at the prospect of a double up with the John Fries Award at COFA (sorry, UNSW Art & Design as it’s called now), and an exhibition at the nearby National Art School. Though there were lots of lovely people to chat to at John Fries, we were both quite disappointed with the works. One of the two I’ve shown you my friend said she “actually hated”. Down below, however, there’s a terrific exhibition called “Troubled Waters” with photography, video and even crayon drawings dealing with the subject of climate change. The video work from China, in particular, is fantastic.
And so, having spent an hour or so at UNSW, we headed down Oxford Street to the National Art School, for their current exhibition Sixth Sense. It’s such a great exhibition, with so many works made up of things that “smell”. As you enter on the lower level, there’s some fragrances in bottles and some of those smelling cards (sorry, I don’t know the word, but those cards like you would find in a cosmetics store) with fragrances which include freshly sharpened pencils! Upstairs, there are other wonderful works which are made from herbs, chillies, and even ashes. Definitely worth visiting.
I showed Colin my new passport as we caught up for a late morning coffee. “It’s one of the new flash ones”, I told him, with the micro-chip or whatever inside. “Your photograph looks a little harsh”, he said.
And that’s when I told him about my passport photograph strategy: look like you should be upgraded. There’s a saying that if you want to be up-graded you should like you should be upgraded. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I was prepared to give it a go, and especially it was a one-off act that would hopefully keep giving for the next ten years. So in my passport photograph, I’m wearing a suit and tie, I’m wearing glasses, and I look very businessman-like.
Aside from catchup with Colin, it was a reasonably relaxed day at home ahead of getting to the airport.
Unfortunately, there was some confusion in the book-in queue. Although the departures board said I needed to check in at F10, F10 was completely deserted. A nearby Swedish couple were having the same problem. I chatted to them briefly, and we eventually made our way to the right queue. Sadly, the queue was long and rather tiresome. And a couple of phone calls I was planning to make once I got through customs, I actually made while waiting in the queue. And then, finally, I was called to check in.
There was a problem, however, with my passport, which failed to register on the computer. Eeek. I thought. But after five minutes or so, and a computer change, and there was a success at last, which is just as well as it was then only about 45 minutes until take off.
I think the woman looking after me had experienced a difficult day, and I think my general happy demeanour in the midst of the delay, may have brought a smile into her life. Or perhaps it was my fantastic bloody passport photograph that influenced her to call her supervisor and as…. “can we find this gentleman a better seat?” In essence, that meant just two of us seated in a three-person front row in economy. While the rest of the flight was packed, we spread out with plenty of legroom and loads of space between us.
The other surprise was that I flew BA, as I misinterpreted the booking as being a Qantas code-share. As an aircraft, it was a little past its prime. And the food and wine were a little average. “Chicken’s off, so you’ll have to have pasta,” said one of the flight attendants. But the staff were friendly and smiling – and one of them asked me about my computer – so that was a good thing. And the two young Swedes were sitting behind me.
It’s was a longish flight, of course. But having the window seat was quite good, especially looking out as we flew over Indonesia. It was great looking down at the various pools of light from the towns and cities below, and then finally looking down at just how big the greater Bangkok area is was a sight to behold.

I wasn’t as lucky with seating on the second flight, as it was close to full with lots of Finns and Swedes with a really bad case of sunburn. In the midst of winter, it seems, there’s an exodus from these Nordic countries as people head to a warmer climate for a bit of sunshine. And when I say “sunshine”, I mean sunshine. They all end up with a deep orange-brown glow that you just know they’ve achieved by sitting in the sun – probably without any skin protection – every day for as long as they possibly can.

I slept reasonably well on the flight, even if the combination of flights meant I was constantly eating, having eaten two dinners, two breakfast and two light snacks in the twenty-four hours or so I was on the plane.

Touching down at Helsinki was such a sight to behold. Although I’ve been to the snow in Australia, I’ve never seen snow like that before. It was everywhere. And you could feel the cold come up through the floors on the carriageway between the aircraft and the airport. It was a reasonably short flight from Helsinki to Stockholm – only 45 minutes.

After a light breakfast of coffee and croissants (I had a pain au chocolat) this morning, we set off to visit the first castle of the day, Azay-le-Rideau. Throughout most of its history it was privately owned, eventually sold when the final owner ran into some financial problems. Only once did a king, Louis XIII visit the property. The house had a very intimate friendly feel about it, and I especially enjoyed walking in the gardens.
We then came back for a bite to eat in Tours where I ate the very typically French liver pate on a baguette.
After lunch, we visited Chenonceau which mostly belonged to women. The occupants included Gabrielle d’Estrees, a favourite of Henri IV; Diane de Poitiers, a mistress to Henri II; and when he died it was taken over by his wife, Catherine de Medici. And after that, it became a refuge for the widow of Henri III when he was assassinated. For many years, the house was also in private hands, though it was turned into a military hospital. and during WW2, the house, which crosses the river, marked the line between occupied and free France for a period.
And then we visited Amboise: the place where Charles VIII died; a residence of most of kings of Fance in the Loire Valley until Henry IV. including being the place where Francois I had many famous parties. Some of the parties, incidentally, were designed by Leonardo de Vinci who lived just down the street for a number of years. Leo died nearby, by the way, and was buried in a chapel at the castle. We made a brief visit to the nearby house where he lived, though with only a few minutes to closing time, didn’t think the entry fee was worth the investment of time.
On several occasions today David has asked me to nominate a favourite. I don’t think I can since all three have their own special qualities. Some are beautiful, some are homely, some are architecturally or historically interesting. Sorry if that’s a cop-out.
Back in Tours we had dinner, and now we’re back in the room, ready to hit the sack. This is hard work, you know.
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Happy Birthday!!!!!!!
And awesome that Rhianna made you cupcakes.
Belated birthday wishes to you, James.
Happy birthday James……..see you next Saturday mate!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tusen tack!
Lite sent, men grattis på födelsedagen James!