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Centrepoint
As I was standing at the bus stop on Castlereagh Street earlier tonight, I looked up and saw Centrepoint Tower. And for just a moment I reflected on my life and how Centrepoint Tower is nearly always visible to me. I live in Surry Hills, I work in Ultimo. Regularly, of course, I’ll visit The Rocks, Newtown, Lewisham and Glebe. It’s very rare for me to go “over the bridge”, although that might change. Occasionally, I’ll make a visit to Bondi or Coogee. You get the drift.
I’m back at work on Monday and I guess it’s probably a little bit of restlessness associated with the end of my holiday. For the past two weeks I haven’t ventured all that far from home. I’ve been catching up with people, going out for dinner and drinks etc, and I’ve been doing LOADS of family history. But basically, throughout it all, Centrepoint Tower has still remained within sight.
Although I’d planned to go and visit Patrick in Canberra this weekend, that didn’t eventuate. Something else has come up in my life and so, at the last minute yesterday morning I decided not to go. Although it would have been fun to go away for a couple of days it’s probably best that I stay here this weekend. Yes, I know I’m being cryptic. Sorry. And don’t embarrass me by asking to me say more.
Peace and Quiet
In the midst of an otherwise, “noisy” day, I need a bit of peace and quiet tonight.
It was a fairly mundane day at work. It was more “logistics” than anything else. And although I’m quite good at logistics, I found myself defeated on a couple of occasions today.
Ah well, I did get to do some creative stuff, too.
And I did get to go out for a while to the Cruising Yacht Club, ahead of the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race.
I can scarcely believe it, that they already have a media center up and running.
There’s quite a few yachts already in place, though the bloke who runs it told me that on the day itself, it’ll be three or four times that amount.
My main interest was whether or not we had a clear view to Centrepoint Tower (to get the signal there).
But in between, I did manage to take in some of the spectacular view.
It was a real highlight in an otherwise humdrum day.
And so here I am at home with a glass of wine and catching up on Twitter, Facebook, and all of those other distractions.
To preserve my sanity, I feel like it might be time to get out and about and clear my head.
I might head down to St Mary’s to see the Nativity Scene.
Saturday morning at North Lismore
The population of Lismore is around 45,000 and has been so for a number of years. To the best of my knowledge, that 45,000 also includes nearby villages and towns such as Nimbin.
And so, in some ways, it’s both a big country town and a small regional centre. Even within Lismore, there are elements of both.
You don’t have to go far to find yourself in a part of town that has a village-like atmosphere: North Lismore.
North Lismore is both geographically and socio-economically speaking at the bottom rung. It’s the area of town that’s most likely to flood. It’s also the area of town where you’re most likely to find people on very low incomes.
However, there are many things to love about North Lismore, including the large amouts of open paddock, the big backyards of the houses, and the fact you have a large regional centre (with all of the options that means for health, shopping and services) just a few minutes walk or drive away.
When both sets of grandparents moved to Lismore (1930s) they spent a fair amount of time living in North Lismore, before moving to South Lismore. And as a child, I would spend a lot of time in North Lismore. It’s where I made my First Holy Communion (at the Catholic Church which is no longer there), it’s where I went to school (Richmond River High School), and where I would regularly go to the Lismore Show and the Lismore Speedway.
These days, the Lismore Showground also plays host to the Lismore Farmer’s Market, as well as the annual Tropical Fruits LGBTQIA+ New Year’s Party. The saleyards are also closeby.
A warning, the video takes you on a brief visit to the saleyards, so if you don’t wish to see animals in that environment, there is enough warning so you can switch off.
Making Bread
Yes, I know home-made bread has been all the rage over the last few years, thanks to those electric bread makers you can buy now, where you pile a whole bunch of stuff into a machine and it does all the hard work for you. Although I’ve toyed with the idea of purchasing one myself, I’ve never gone ahead with the purchase, concluding I’d probably use it only once or twice before my enthusiasm waned. But lately, I’ve become a little obsessed with the idea of making my own bread by hand.
It started when I was in South Africa a few weeks ago. I was staying at a guesthouse where the cook made fresh bread every day. Over breakfast one morning, he spoke passionately about how awful processed white bread can be is, and much better it is to make your own bread.
Then a few weeks ago I went to a friends place for dinner, and he also spoke with passion about how he had begun making his own bread. He spoke with passion, in particular, about creating the original sour-dough. He has more patience than I have. I want bread and I want it now.
So the other day I went online, found a simple recipe on Youtube, and picked up the necessary ingredients (flour and yeast) from the supermarket. And then tonight, I gave it a go.
My conclusion? It was surprisingly easy. It was also very satisfying. At the age of forty-seven, I’m still learning new tricks.
Here are the results.
With the ingredients, I ended up with two loaves of fresh bread. Of course, they’re not the most attractive loaves of bread (I’d lose points for presentation if I was on a cooking show), but they taste terrific, and they’ll taste fantastic over breakfast tomorrow (as well as a late night snack tonight). I’m inspired to do it again.
Footy Chicks
Before starting to talk about “Footy Chicks” which premiered on Thursday night at the Sydney Film Festival, I need to alert you to a potential conflict of interest: the film’s producer, Michaela Perske is a friend of mine.
“Footy Chicks” is a documentary about women in Sydney and Melbourne who are, primarily, footy fans. In addition to that, there’s a group of women who sleep with the players, with a significant divide between these women and those who are married to, or who are girlfriends of players.
I’ve known about “Footy Chicks” for a couple of years now and had a pretty intimate knowledge of the type of film it would be. As the film was being made, Michaela would tell me about the footage they’d shot, the stories they’d been told, the people they’d met. So when, for example, footage of a large number of women’s breasts that was shot by a footy player appeared on screen, I knew it before the caption “Player Cam” appeared.
Having that intimate knowledge I was perhaps lulled into a false sense of the subject matter. Subject matter dealing with sexually adventurous men and women, rape, group sex and so on, didn’t phase me at all, whereas other people I know were shocked.
What I hadn’t expected, and what I was pleased about, was that all of the women appearing in the film emerged with dignity. These women know exactly what they are doing and why they are doing it, with the exception, of course, of the experiences detailed of those women who were sexually assaulted.
The story of the women in this film is told with passion and humour, which the audience on opening night really seemed to appreciate. The film was well received with a good solid round of applause and there was a lot of interesting discussion in the “Q&A” segment that followed.
After the movie, we went to dinner at the Arthouse Hotel, a great venue with a good atmosphere, but when it comes to the main course, a 5-spice duck dish with bok choy, I have just three letters for you: KFC. Honestly…