Imagine, if you would, half a dozen people aged from 25 to 70 all seated around a couple of tables at an inner-city bar in Sydney. On the tables in front of us were a couple of packs of dominoes. Without hesitation, under the influence of a couple of happy hour priced beers, the packets were opened and the dominoes were being distributed. Very suddenly, however, we all realised it was so long since any of us had played the game none of us could really remember the rules. We stumbled along as best we could and played by our own rules.
In the group of people I work most closely with, we don’t often go out for drinks after work. The “drinking culture” of the media seems to have “softened”, as people have partnered off, gained children and so on. In the midst of that change, it was really lovely to catch up with some colleagues, including some I haven’t really seen that much of lately, and to play, somewhat badly, a game of dominoes as we chatted.
Even though I typically make it to the Archibald Prize exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales most years, I inexplicably missed it in 2024. I’m not sure why; perhaps I was simply caught up in the ongoing process of my health rehabilitation over the last couple of years.
So, when I saw an advertisement for the Archibald Prize 2024 opening night at the Lismore Regional Gallery, I immediately thought, “Yes, I’ll go!”. Generally each year, the Archibald does a “regional tour” after the city showing. I’m on the gallery’s mailing list and had just been there last week for the flood exhibition opening, so buying a ticket seemed like a no-brainer. Fifty dollars for wine, food, and entry sounded like great fun for a Friday night! My friend Jacki, a school friend from Richmond River High School many years ago, was also in town, so I suggested we go together. We had a wonderful time exploring the exhibition.
One portrait immediately caught my eye: I nudged Jackie and pointed to it, saying, “He’s from Lismore!” Jackie looked surprised. It was a portrait of Craig Foster, the renowned soccer player and human rights advocate. Craig actually went to school here, attending the same school as another famous sports figure, cricketer Adam Gilchrist. Lismore clearly holds a special place for him, and I believe his family lived in town until just last year, though I’m not certain where on the North Coast they might have moved. Seeing Craig Foster’s portrait felt like a wonderful affirmation of the exhibition’s quality and its connection to our local area.
Craig Foster by Julian Meagher in the Archibald Prize 2024
The other portrait that truly resonated with me was that of Ed Lebrocq, the musician and broadcaster, who transitioned a couple of years ago. The portrait powerfully affirms his gender. Having met Ed on a few occasions, I found it particularly moving to see his representation in the exhibition. All the other portraits were, of course, excellent, but these two were the ones I enjoyed the most.
Captured by the official photographer for the night, so maybe we’ll appear in the “social pages” somewhere?
Afterward, Jacki and I headed to the nearby (very cool) Levee Bar for a cheese plate and a glass of wine and more catching up. It was fantastic and buzzing with activity for a Friday night!
Although at yum-cha, I’ve eaten quite a few of those sweet/savoury buns commonly found in parts of Asian for, I hadn’t realised how common they were until I was in Hong Kong in 2008.
I think it was my first day in Hong Kong, and as I wandered around the city – well, in and out of the linked air-conditioned shopping malls – I noticed quite a few shops selling them.
The first thought I had, the moment I first bit into one was, “food doesn’t taste like this”.
They’re sickly sweet. They taste as though they’ve been processed to within an inch of their life. And you just know they can’t be good for you.
Going past my favourite little cake shop in China town for lunch, I decided to give them another try.
I settled on one with peas, corn, and heaven knows what else inside.
Slightly tastier than the ones I remember from Hong Kong. Even slightly less processed. But I’m still sure it can’t have been good for me.
Another memory of that big trip was revisited when I went out for dinner tonight with Edward, the bloke from Sydney who I met in Stockholm.
We shared a room for three or four days, and have gotten together a few times since then.
We enjoyed a drink or six, a terrific meal at The Balkan, and an otherwise lovely Friday night.
While I maintained a composed exterior in public, today brought a few moments when I found myself unexpectedly overwhelmed by the emotions accompanying my return to work.
It’s been a span of over four months since I fell seriously ill, narrowly escaping death, enduring the amputation of my lower right leg, and being diagnosed with diabetes. Following several months spent in the hospital and rehabilitation, and more recently, recovering at home, I decided it was time to rejoin the workforce on a part-time basis, with the agreement of my doctors and colleagues.
Since my last stint at the office, a few changes have occurred. We are currently in the midst of a management restructuring process that will continue to influence my role into the next year. Additionally, my workplace has undergone some reconstruction, and I now occupy a completely new office space. Interestingly, this new office is located in a section of the building that I had contributed to rebuilding back in the mid-2000s, and it’s scheduled for refurbishment halfway through the coming year. It never ends :)
Amusingly, and perhaps co-incidentally, this photograph of my first day at school has turned up on my desk at home recently.
As I returned to the office today, I encountered a slew of unfamiliar faces. Some were individuals I had only previously met via computer screens, while others had taken on new roles. Of course, there were also those whom I had known for several years. There were warm embraces and heartfelt gratitude for the support they had offered me during the past few months, particularly the cards, messages, and visits.
Inevitably, there were also colleagues who had departed from the company, either voluntarily or due to the ongoing restructuring.
Despite the seemingly brief four-month hiatus, it felt like an eternity. I discussed the range of emotions I might experience with a colleague, who shared her own experiences of taking time off to have children. Fluctuations in one’s work life are a common occurrence, and various emotions are par for the course. However, my history with the ABC, having worked in different locations and positions since November 1989, has made it an integral part of my life. Returning today, after the tumultuous experiences and emotions of the past few months, was never going to be a straightforward endeavor.
As expected, I needed a couple of breaks today. I took five minutes to close my eyes and relax in my office in the morning, and another twenty minutes later in the afternoon. There were also a couple of occasions where I needed to take my prosthetic leg off, and at the after-work drinks I needed to sit down while my colleagues stood. Besides the physical toll that this year has taken on my body, I believe there were moments of emotional exhaustion as well.
When I arrived home, I found solace in a few hours of much-needed rest.
Group shot of friends and colleagues from ABC Pride
I’m slated to return to work again tomorrow, gradually easing back into a three-day working week until my body is prepared for full-time employment.
“What are you doing in my neighbourhood?”, I asked some colleagues who I ran into in Crown Street. They live in Sutherland Shire, and I was surprised to run into them. “Aren’t you cold?’, one of them asked me, remarking on the fact that I was wearing a polo-shirt and jeans. “Not at all”, I replied.
Minutes earlier I’d heard a group of women laughingly comment on a group of people wearing shorts. “Don’t they know it’s winter”, one of them commented with an almost mock indignation. While they were wearing shorts, she was wearing a scarf and a jacket. I swear you’d think she was Anna Karenina on a journey to Siberia they way she was dressed.
And then tonight on Twitter, a friend and colleague commented how cold she was. I replied…
@Tzarimas It is not cold. It is currently 14 degrees. 3 months ago I was in Sweden when it was minus 14. That’s cold. This isn’t !!! :):
What a bunch of wimps, I thought to myself. It’s been a gorgeous day in Sydney. Warm temperatures. The sun has been shining. There’s nothing to complain about, IMHO.
Sydney is not cold in winter
A scarf is nothing more than a fashion statement in Sydney, and if you think it’s cold… get over it!!
After the events of the last couple of weeks, it’s nice to sit back and relax and not do much at all. I woke late, made a coffee, wandered down to that wonderful patisserie on Victoria Street, Darlinghurt, where I had a coffee and a croissant, and since then I’ve been doing little except listen to music, watch a bit of tv, and chat online.
“Lovin’ the long weekend”, I said in sms conversation with Sharron, who’s also been enduring a lot over the last few weeks (and earlier).
Naboer
I have no plans for the night except a bite to eat, and then to watch the Norwegian/Swedish film, Naboer which screens tonight on SBS2. I saw it a couple of years ago and have been hoping for a repeat screening ever since.
The last time I saw it, I described it in these terms….
“Naboer” (“Next Door”), is one of the most disturbing and scarey movies I have ever seen. Having just finished watching this Norwegian film on Foxtel’s “World Movies”, I’m still a little “on edge”, which may or may not be a good thing for a Sunday morning.
So that’s my Saturday and Saturday night. And for all those complaining about the cold, I’d recommend a glass of red wine, something warm over your knees, and a scarey film on SBS.
Three songs have emerged as favourites for me, as I’ve listened “properly” to the new album by Agnetha Fältskog over the last couple of weeks.
The first single, “When you really loved someone” is one of those great pop ballads about love gone wrong. The video tells the story of an older, wiser woman offering advice to a younger woman who is going through the traumas of a relationship break-up. As the video features a 70’s/Swedish looking couple, you can’t help but think it’s a song for Agnetha’s younger-self who perhaps spent a lot of her life regretting her own relationship break-ups over the years. As I travelled over the last few weeks, it was a song that came into my head many times. The chorus, in particular, is very catchy.
I’m hoping “Dance your pain away” will be the new song to be released as a single. There’s a 70’s feel to this one also, in the disco beat and in the strings. There’s also a musical flourish half way through which reminds you of ABBA”s “Does your mother know”. There’s not a lot to the lyrics, describing someone who discovers their partner “in the restroom with another one”. Rather than walk out and cause a scene, the person is advised to dance their pain away. Even though the lyrics a little “weird” (no one would actually say what she says in real life, and the d-d-d-dance bit is a little forced), it has a killer chorus. I also genuinely “believe” the performance, in the same way you can hear the desperation in her performance in “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme”. It’s very catchy and great fun, and it’s a song I’ve been playing over and over.
I’ve also been playing the following track on the album, “Bubble” over and over again. Even though both tracks are quite different they follow nicely. I love the way “Bubble” goes from a very simple stripped back lyric and musical presentation to something very big and bold all within a pop song that’s only a few minutes long.
Were it not for the fact it’s Agnetha, there are some songs on the album I wouldn’t normally like. Although tracks like “The One Who Loves You Now”, “Past Forever” and “I Should Have Followed You Home” (the duet with Gary Barlow) have nice melodies, they’re a little “wimpy”, a little “sacharine” for my tastes these days. Nice songs, but not really “me”. I love the whistling (very Peter John and Bjorn-esque) in “Perfume in the breeze”.
As I’ve listened to “A”, two other albums have sprung to mind: Agnetha’s 1975 solo album, “Elva kvinnor i ett hus” (Eleven women in a house), and Frida’s 1996 “comeback album”, “Djupa andetag” (Deep breaths).
“Elva kvinnor i ett hus” is one of my all time favourite ABBA-releated releases. The album contains a good variety of pop songs, which are sung well, and which are held together by the idea the album is about the lives and experiences of eleven women who live in a house. Remarkably, since it’s almost forty years later, Agnetha’s voice doesn’t sound all that different now than from when she recorded this album.
“Djupa andetag” is another of my all time favourite ABBA-releated releases. In common with “A”, “Djupa andetag” was very much a come back album for Frida. Also in common, the lyrics were often about being older, wiser, and stronger. Both albums have been written and produced by the same team. This gives the album a “consistency” which is perhaps lacking from some of both of their 1980s which were tended to be a “grab bag” of good songs from a range of song-writers, although they were usually produced and recorded by the same team.
The bottom line is this a wonderfully consistently good album, and one which I’m really enjoying listening to very much, even if I do skip a couple of tracks from time to time.
The thing which has amazed me about this whole experience is how Agnetha has gone from the so-called “recluse” who avoids appearances in public and who fears flying, to someone able to re-engage fairly strongly with the promotional experience. “I want the name of the therapist she’s been seeing”, a friend joked the other day. It’s nice to have her “back”.
It’s been driving me crazy for weeks. There’s a laneway near home, which I walk through at least twice a day, where there’s a problem with litter. Every morning there’s at least ten or twenty paper cups from what I suspected was a nearby restaurant left on the ground.
This morning I decided I would go in to ask the manager to do something about it. He wasn’t in, but I noticed the stack of paper cups identical to the ones that keep turning up in the laneway.
A few months ago, at the suggestion of someone I know, the restaurant put a garbage bin outside, and for a while the cups stopped being left in the laneway. They’ve stopped putting the bin out, and that’s presumably why the cups have re-appeared.
Every night I’ll see restaurant patrons drinking tea and smoking in the laneway, leaving their cigarette buts and cups behind.
They’re also routinely being left on the “shelf” of a piece of public art in the laneway. When they’re left on the shelf, I’ll pick them up, walk a few metres down the street and put them in the bin.Oh yeah, there’s a garbage bin nearby. What I don’t understand is why they can’t walk a few metres and put them in the garbage bin. A few metres from the garbage bin is this billboard.
It’s only 28 steps away.
I’ll pop in tonight to see if the restaurant might start to put that bin outside again. It’s not their fault that people feel no responsibility for their littering, and can’t walk a few metres to use the bin. But hopefully this will help.
