There was a slight tinge of sadness as we packed up the Chinese New Year Exhibition at Sydney Town Hall.
Unlike setting up an exhibition which is all about the future, bumping out an exhibition is all about the end of something.
My friend Kate has done an amazing job putting all this together, and so of course I wanted to be there to help at the less-glamorous end of things.
Packing Up Exhibition
Everyone last night did an amazing job, dealing with bubble wrap, sticky tap, screw-drivers and the like. And as a number of the artists arrived to pick up their works, it was great to see them chatting to each other.
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.
While the nation’s legislators struggle with what to do about same-sex marriage, there’s at least one major bank which thinks I’m still in a relationship which ended over a decade ago.
“Back in the 1900s and early 2000s” (I say this for dramatic effect), Damien and I had a joint bank account, with linked credit cards. After we went our separate ways as a couple, we also went our separate ways as a financial entity. Or so we thought.
Despite the fact we’ve both told the bank we’re no longer a couple, and despite having received at least two letters (yes, letters) apologising for the inconvenience and saying they would rectify the fault, I continue to receive a new credit card from them for this linked account every two or three years. The latest arrived in the bank yesterday.
“Can you just cut it up and promise you won’t go to Stockholm with it”, Damien joked to me in an email this morning.
“Is there anyone here who is Swedish?’, the young woman on stage asked tonight at Sydney’s Arthouse Hotel. As much as I was tempted to reply “yes”, I figured it was a little too much for me to claim Swedishness, since I was descended from a varied group of English, Irish and Scottish settlers and convicts, including a family who had arrived in Australia on the Third Fleet. There’s a fair bit of my ancestry I’m unsure about, but I’m guessing it’s mostly Irish genes that I have. “Put your hands down”, she said to the nearby group of Danes.
In the mid-evening break, I chatted with the woman who had told her story of being a Youth Exchange student in the far north of Sweden (about 600km from Stockholm, she told me) and who discovered the delights of fika. Fika is the Swedish word which I understood to mean a coffee break. But in the far north of Sweden where she lived for a year, fika meant consuming large amounts of cakes.
It was her story around the theme of “vice” which she told as part of Now Hear This, a story-telling night which has recently begun in Sydney, and which I have some involvement with (disclosure). “It’s a bit like The Moth” I’ve told a few people.
The second story tonight also had a theme I could relate to: researching family history. The bloke, obviously a retired gentleman, spoke of his “addiction” to travelling to cemeteries and hotels in search of long lost grandfathers. I knew exactly what he was talking about, as you may have noted from the many adventures on my website.
As someone who has spoken quite publicly about her experiences with weight loss and gastric banding, the host of “Now Hear This”, Melanie Tait spoke about her vice – chocolate.
The combination of Swedishness and chocolate opened up a desire in me also. And so on the way home, instead of catching a cab straight from the hotel, I walked through Hyde Park and headed towards Sydney’s Oxford Street.
As I’ve noticed previously, there have been a number of stores in Sydney which have recently been selling the Swedish confectionary, Daim. Those locations have included my own local convenience store, as well as convenience stores on Broadway. Sadly, “supplies” have dried up, and so I headed with an almost manic desire in my eyes towards Duffy Brothers supermarket on Oxford Street, which I’d known previously to have sold the authentic Swedish version of Daim. They had also previously stocked another well known Swedish brand, Marabou. As the woman who spoke on stage tonight had observed, the Swedes know how to do sweets very well. In fact, I read the other day, Swedes were the largest consumers of sugar in the world.
Like a junkie looking for a hit, I walked back and forward along the chocolate aisle at the Duffy Brothers, only to discover they no longer stock Daim or Marabou.
Melanie Tait hosts Now Hear This
Daim and Marabou previously spotted at Duffy’s in May 2012
“When was the last time you changed a tyre?”, I asked Sue as we stood on the roadside of Mitchell Highway between Orange and Wellington. We both concluded it had been a few decades, since either one of us had performed this seemingly everyday task. “Don’t tyres change themselves these days?”, I added.
Thankfully, I still remembered how to do it in a general sense, but where things fell down was in how tight the nuts were. “I’m not strong enough, I can’t get them undone”, I said, and so Sue dialed the car hire company and organised for the NRMA. “This happens a fair bit with hire cars”, she was told by the person on the phone, as they use “industrial strength” nut tighteners.
Luckily, we were only a few kilometres outside of Orange so we didn’t have to wait that long. Fortunately, there were only a few spots of rain, and the roadside break allowed us a few minutes to think about the rest of the day, and for me to take a few photographs of some nearby paddocks.
Canola in the field, between Orange and Wellington.
But it did slow down our departure time, as we thought it was wise to head back into Orange to organise a replacement tyre. While we waited for the replacement, we sat in the carpark of Bridgestone Tyres, and enjoyed our lunch. This travel lark is pretty glamorous, eh?
We had only a couple of signioficant plans for the day, as we transitioned from Orange to Mudgee. I had a plan to call in a visit from colleagues at the ABC in Orange, and later in the day, we had plans to visit the historic town of Gulgong, and to visit the caves at Wellington.
Stupidly, we hadn’t counted on the caves being subject to social distancing, and therefore hadn’t booked a tour. Though we weren’t able to go inside the caves themselves we were able to go on a self-guided tour of the fossils trail in the nearby paddock and camping ground.
Fossils at Wellington Caves, NSW
Neither of us had an idea the area was once part of an ocean sea-bed. It was enoyable and fascinating to do the walk and to reflect on how different the landscape of the nearby paddocks would have once been. The self-guided tour took about half-an-hour.
The break at the Wellington Caves also afforded us a moment for a “chocolate break” (a hot chocolate for Sue, and a chocolate Paddle Pop for me). We also ran into someone from our collective pasts, as he had previously worked in the area of rural/regional public relations. Small world, eh?
Our next stop was the historic town of Gulgong. Gulgong is famous as a place where the poet, Henry Lawson once lived, and which was portrayed (along with Lawson) on the Australian ten dollar note. In contrast to many towns and cities these days which are designed on a grid-system, the streets of Gulgong are windy and off-centre. The design of the town probably reflects the contours of the land. and the buildings have a nineteenth century vibe about them.
Gulgong, NSW
Though the town has a definite “tourist vibe” about it, the town still has a “locals vibe” about it, too. We both agreed it was well worth the slight diversion on our trip to Mudgee.
Ten Dollar Town Motel at Gulgong, NSW
We’re spending the next couple of days in the area, with plans for further sight-seeing (including visits to the other nearby historic towns of Sofala and Hill End) as well as some wine and food tourism also.
On ANZAC Day, this is Tony Albert’s powerful memorial in Sydney’s Hyde Park “YININMADYEMI Thou didst let fall”.
YININMADYEMI Thou didst let fall is a significant new artwork by Aboriginal artist Tony Albert to acknowledge Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men and women who served in the nation’s military.
The artwork is composed of four standing bullets and three fallen shells. The bullet is a universal signifier for conflict. The arrangement of the bullets, with some standing and some fallen, represents those who survived and those who were sacrificed.
The artwork also references the circumstances faced by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander service men and women when they returned to Australia. They were treated differently from their white Australian comrades who were given land for their service while Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people were still having their land taken away.
Hyde Park South has been chosen as the location for the artwork due to its status and historical significance. The site was once a ritual contest ground, a crossroads for traditional walking trails, and an important site for ceremony, gathering and camping. It is also home to the ANZAC Memorial.
The artwork has the support of the Returned and Services League (NSW Branch) and the NSW Centenary of Anzac Advisory Council.
The City acknowledges the continuing work of the Coloured Diggers, the Babana Aboriginal Men’s Group and the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Veterans and Services Association, and supports the Coloured Diggers march and commemorations.
ARTIST
Sydney-based Aboriginal Girramay artist Tony Albert’s family has over 80 years combined military service. The concept for the artwork comes from the artist, whose vision draws on the experiences of his family’s service in the Australian military.
Tony Albert is working with Cracknell & Lonergan Architects who are assisting in the delivery of the artwork. Dr Anita Heiss, author of Life in Gadigal Country, is also working with the artist to write an inscription honouring Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander servicemen and women that will be engraved on the base of one of the fallen bullets.
Tony Albert and the City of Sydney also acknowledge Trisha Albert, author of Unsung Heroes for her initial research on the story of Tony’s grandfather Eddie Albert. Eddie enlisted and served in the Australian Army during WWII, and it is his story upon which Tony’s concept for the artwork is based.
