For the last couple of months, as I’ve wandered past the newly opened “French Touch Crêperie” on Crown Street, I’ve been thinking to myself “I really should pop in there any try them out”. But until today, circumstance has never allowed me to do that as I’ve ever either been going to work, or to the supermarket, or simply haven’t been hungry.
In some ways I think I’m still grieving for the loss of Wood & Stone, the terrific gourmet pizza restaurant that inhabited the space for about as long as I’ve lived in Sydney. One of my favourite things on the weekend was to go there, order a small pizza and a glass (or two) of wine, and read the newspaper. The main guy running it was such a friendly guy also, and so it was a very pleasant thing to do on the weekend. But then it closed suddenly and was replaced by “Bar Rialto” which I never really got into in the same way.
When that also closed, it seemed like the space might have remained empty for a while, until finally I saw some renovations underway a few months ago, and I had high hopes for something new. When it was revealed it was only selling crepes, I was a little disappointed to be honest. I’ve never been much of a connoisseur of the crepe.
But today, I decided I’d make amends and went there for a late breakfast. Although the crepe I chose wasn’t all that exciting to my tastes (I probably should have had sweet, rather than savoury) the range on offer was pretty impressive. I’ll definitely go back to try some others. The waiters were also very friendly, and the food arrived fast. But the coffee? OMG the coffee was EXCELLENT. Really excellent coffee.
Having worked a fair bit of extra time lately, I asked for a day off. Although I don’t have much planned for the next few days (aside from the Andrew Olle Media Lecture tonight), I figured a long weekend would help me re-set.
But what to do with a fairly unplanned day off? I woke early, went out and had some breakfast (and read the paper) which was nice. I came home, and went back to bed for a couple of hours, with no real plans for the day, except to enjoy the gorgeous weather.
And that’s when I suddenly remembered Sculpture By The Sea had opened. “Great”, I thought to myself, “If I head along today, it won’t be as crowded as it often is on the weekends”. That was true to the extent I’d forgotten weekdays were also good for school groups and retirees, many of whom had the same idea I guess.
There’s a couple of quite good works in this year’s exhibition, though to be honest I was a little disappointed with it overall.
There’s a real “sameness” developing in the exhibition these days. Every year, there’s always something with recycled products. There’s always something hidden in a nook or a cranny. There’s always something big and reflective to assist with the selfie. This year, there’s a lot of works which have been influenced by guerilla knitting.
For me, the most inspiring works were: the large “snow dome” and the “field” of delightful yellow and red flags that fluttered in the wind.
I really love Circular Quay. In particular, I love sitting down there quietly having an early morning coffee, and I love watching people having their photographs taken in front of the Opera House or the Harbour Bridge. I love seeing the look of excitement on their faces, as so many of them have come from other parts of the world, including other parts of Australia. They’re all taking very similar photographs, but somehow every photograph is unique as the light and cloud varies fro moment to moment.
These photographs were taken within about sixty minutes of each other. They remind me about how, even now, after 13 years living in Sydney, I still get a buzz out of seeing both the house and the bridge. And I love catching the ferry and taking that trip to Manly, saying goodbye to the city one minute, and then marvelling at its beauty as you return. And even when you’re not taking in the views, and you just close your eyes and enjoy the sunshine or the wind on your face, you know you’re suddenly in a very special place.
As I reached into my pocket today, I wondered for a moment what I had found. Was it a ticket? Was it a brochure? No, it was a handkerchief that didn’t actually belong to me.
I’d bought the suit I was wearing from a second-hand store several months ago for $25. It was one of two suits I’d bought on the day, and I was happy with the purchase of both, as they both fitted perfectly and were incredibly cheap.
“Can I smell it?”, a colleague said to me today, wondering if the suit had the smell of an “old dead man” about it. She was reassured.
My Hankie
I’ve worn it a few times since the purchase, but somehow, however, I managed to get by the last few months without realising the suit contained evidence of a former life.
“Was it a handkerchief owned by a distinguished man?”, I wondered to myself, “Or was it evidence of a former life. A girlfriend he’d left behind?”.
I still don’t know, but I’d welcome your input. Male or female? Young or old? What do you think?
After work I went off to the pub, as usual for a Wednesday night, to catch up with my mates.
In stark contrast to the usual quiet night, there was a blues band playing, and there was a “Customer Night” for a company selling beds, so we had to relocate ourselves. The beds cost $7,000 each, equivalent to a first home owner’s loan! Nonetheless, we had a terrific evening.
And it was largely a terrific day.
The only low point in the day was to hear today of the death of Australian poet, Dorothy Porter.
My first memory of Dorothy Portery was when she came to Wagga in the early 90s as a “writer in Residence” for “Wagga Wagga Writers Writers”. As I recall, she had just written, or was working on her work about Akenahten.
As the local ABC broadcaster I remember interviewing Dorothy on a number of occasions about her work.
As one of those behind the RGLSSG, the Riverina Gay and Lesbian Social and Support Group, I also remember a couple of events we organised around her time in Wagga.
She seemed like a really terrific person, and hearing today of her death made me feel a little sad…
Having recently discovered the delights of the “Blue Travel 10”, I’ve been catching buses a lot lately. In preference to walking and trains, I’ve been making use of Sydney’s bus system, which I’ve found to be fairly good by and large. My favourite part about living and working close to the city is that if the first bus that comes along is overly crowded, I can catch another soon afterwards.
Crowded Bus
That wasn’t really the case tonight, though, when I caught a bus from Railway Square to Surry Hills (Cleveland Street). The bus was very crowded and I had miscellaneous bottoms and crotches in my face. It was then, I realised, as a result of having lived in Sydney for over 12 years, my “personal space bubble” has contracted. Having lived most of my life in the country, it would have nearly killed me to be in such close proximity to others. And now it doesn’t worry me anymore…
I wandered around Lismore Shopping Square late this afternoon in search of a new pair of casual sports shoes, finally settling on a black pair of Dunlop Volleys. Quite comfortable, I thought to myself, and quite fashionable too. You know me, always ahead of the times, and always on the lookout for a good bargain, and at just $21.99 from Big W, they were certainly that.
If the truth is told, the shoes were just an excuse to go to the shopping centre to enjoy the air conditioning and to escape some of the humidity which I’ve found a little overwhelming since arriving here. This was especially the case last night when I travelled to Bangalow for an event which I was the MC for at the local A and I Hall.
Bangalow, of course is very fashionable now, though I remember when it was just the place you stopped for a pea on the trip to or from Brisbane. But now it’s all very upmarket with shops selling nick-nacks from all around the world. “You know the one thing you can’t buy in Bangalow?”, a friend aksed me. “Nickers. You can’t buy nickers or anything practical in Bangalow aside from milk, unless of course you consider Moroccan rugs part of your daily shopping”.
Despite the flashness of it all, it was still bloody hot and humid, and I noticed more than a few of those attending the event wore thongs. Holding off on a glass of wine (or two) until I had performed my official role, I downed several glasses of sparkling mineral water in quick succession. And although I’d taken my jacket coat with me, it didn’t take much convincing for me to take it off.
It was the second day in a row I’d been asked to perform a “public role”, having been interviewed by a newspaper the previous day. With baited breath, I checked the online edition in the middle of last the night to make sure what I said came out okay. Thankfully it did.
Aside from that, I now have a few free days at home just hanging out with my family before returning to work on Tuesday. Aside from a brief trip to Brisbane tomorrow to see my sister who isn’t well at the moment, I don’t have all that much planned for my time away. Just a bit of relaxing and hanging out with my family. Thankfully my nephew is still at that cute stage, though I suspect he’s starting to show signs of the “terrible twos”.
So yes all I have planned is hanging out with the family, doing nothing in particular, maybe catching up with some mates and, if the humidity continues, maybe some more shopping at Lismore Square.
A good friend’s brother died suddenly this week. He was otherwise in pretty good health for a many in his late 60s. The cause was sepsis—a word which I know intimately, but one I suspect most Australians still don’t fully grasp.
I certainly didn’r, until sepsis nearly killed me almost three years ago, leading to the amputation of my lower right leg, I was blindsided. I’d heard of “hospital bugs,” but I didn’t realise I was living through a medical emergency until it was almost too late.
When sepsis strikes, your blood pressure often plummets and your body enters a state of shock. In a desperate bid to survive, your system prioritises your vital organs—like your heart and brain—by pulling blood flow away from your extremities.
This leaves your hands, feet, and limbs starved of oxygen and nutrients. At the same time, the intense inflammation causes tiny blood clots to form in your smallest blood vessels, further cutting off circulation. If this “blood famine” lasts too long, the tissue in your limbs begins to die, leaving surgeons with no choice but to perform an amputation to save your life.
As part of my podcast project, The Limb Shift, I’ve been interviewing amputees, survivors and experts like Professor Simon Finfer. He helped me understand that sepsis isn’t actually an organism you “catch.” Instead, it is a “life-threatening organ dysfunction due to your body’s response to an infection”. It’s essentially a “friendly fire” event: your immune system, while trying to kill a germ, starts damaging your own vital organs and tissues.
The scale of this in Australia is staggering. For a long time, the experts estimated 55,000 cases annually, but recent data shows a much grimmer reality. In the 2022–23 period, more than 84,000 Australians were hospitalised with sepsis, and it now claims more than 12,000 lives each year. That is roughly one in seven patients who won’t return home.
One of the most startling things Simon told me is that 80% of these cases arise in the community—not in hospitals. As he put it, “The most effective way to prevent death and disability from sepsis is to get people treated quickly”.
I also interviewed Mandy McCracken, who lost her hands and feet to the condition. “Sepsis is actually a really common killer,” she told me. “It kills more Australians than breast cancer, prostate cancer and the road toll combined”. For Mandy, it started with a bacterial infection that triggered her body to go into “overdrive”. Within 36 hours, her hands and feet were turning black.
While doctors use drugs to keep your heart and brain alive, those same drugs constrict blood flow to the limbs—what Simon calls the “distal parts”—which is why so many survivors, like me and Mandy, face amputations.
Even for those who survive, the journey is long. Simon noted that 75% of survivors are readmitted to hospital within a year, often due to a repeat episode because the immune system remains suppressed. Mandy described the mental toll, from the “brain fog” of Post-sepsis syndrome to the sheer frustration of learning to use robotic hands.
Today, Mandy is part of the “Quad Squad,” a community helping multiple limb amputees thrive. Her resilience and Simon’s expertise highlight why we need better public awareness. Sepsis claims thousands of lives, yet signs like rapid breathing, mottled skin, or sudden confusion often go unnoticed.
We need to start asking the question more often: Could it be sepsis?
