“We’re just trying to brighten up the area”, the woman who was painting a “mural” on the windows of a house in Sydney’s Millers Point told me, as I asked her if she minded if I took a photograph. Although I’d read and heard about the plan to relocate some Housing Commission residents from Millers Point, it wasn’t issue I was fully across. I visit the area probably only once or twice a year. Nor was I aware of the local campaign currently underway to stop this. It was an interesting diversion along the way, as we took part in a Craft Beer Tour. I wished her good luck, as we continued to The Lord Nelson for a late afternoon bevvy.
People often say that when you return from a holiday, the first thing you think about is where to go next.
This year, after my trip to China, I’ve been doing that, and revisiting an earlier idea of a plan to visit Paris, Berlin, and Stockholm.
After my fall and a total hip replacement in Feburary, I wasn’t sure I could make the trip to Europe.
A friend mentioned the cheap flight deal to China, and since I had been there before before I became a lower-limb amputee, I knew what to expect and decided to give it a try. That trip, which I’ve written about previously, was a great experience.
Now, after some thought, I’ve decided to revisit the European option! Since Sweden is one of my favorite countries, I knew I wanted to go there, and prioritized that over Paris and Berlin.
As I thought deeply about it, the prospect of long flight seemed a bit daunting, so I’ve decided to break up the trip. I’ve booked a flight to Bangkok for a few days, then on to Sweden for about three weeks, which may also include a quick side trip to London.
I’ve been to the Bangkok airport many times but have never actually explored the city. I’m excited to finally spend a few days there and learn about Thai culture. I’ll also be spending a couple of days in Ayutthaya, a nearby historic town. Funnily enough, one of the women who works at my local pub is from Ayutthaya, and she told me her sister works at a motel there. She was very keen to know where I was staying, but I’m not sure yet since it’s a two-day group tour.
I’m a little concerned about visiting temples, though, as I understand you’re expected to take off your shoes. This is a bit of an issue for me, as a lower limb amputee, as I can’t easily walk around barefoot on either my physical foot or my prosthetic. I’ll need to figure out a solution for that, so any tips would be welcome! Or maybe I just stay outside?
After Bangkok, I’m heading to Sweden. I was worried I might never be able to go to a snowy or icy place again because of the risk of falling. The last time I was there was in 2017. Since then, the pandemic and my amputation have kept me from going back.
A friend in Sweden warned me that February is the “worst time of the year” because it’s so cold and icy. I know I have to be extra careful, especially after my fall this year. But if other amputees can be winter Paralympians, I can at least give it a try. I’m so excited to (hopefully) see snow and ice again!
Walking on the frozen lake in 2013 – I’m hoping to do this again.
My plan is to travel light to Bangkok, and pick up some winter gear there to start with, and then visit a second hand clothing store on arrival in Stockholm.
To prepare, I’ve been watching YouTube videos on what people wear in Stockholm during February.
I’ve also been paying close attention to the footpaths and accessibility of different areas to remind myself of what to expect to avoid slipping over.
What you can’t see, of course, is the thermal underwear, which is not so much of a thing in Australia, and which I’ve also been researching!! According to this video, synthetics are probably the best!
My previous trips in March were wonderful, with beautiful snowy and icy weather, so I’m hoping for a similar experience this time around.
But it’s not just slipping over that I need to worry about. A previous post of when I visited Stockholm in March indicated a propensity for cold weather hives. https://thelimbshift.com/2013/03/thursday-in-stockholm/ And some research around amputees and cold weather told me, “Cold weather can pose unique challenges for individuals with amputations, impacting both their residual limbs and prosthetic devices.:
So, that’s my next big plan! If you have any advice for me, especially about the temple situation, or indeed the snow and ice, I’d love to hear it.
“You want a taxi to Riga?”, I was asked this morning in one of those classic moments of misunderstanding, due to the lack of a common language.
I’d arrived at the bus station at about 5.30 this morning, a good half-hour before the terminal was due to open. Looking at the schedule and seeing nothing on the screen about buses to Riga, I wondered if I’d gone to the wrong place. There were only two buses listed: one to St Petersburg and another to a town on the Estonian/Latvian border.
I went online last night and found there were no train options to get me to Riga, the capital of Latvia. There are several buses every day between the capitals, so there must be a fair bit of two-way traffic going on.
At about six in the morning, I had two options. There was your stock standard bus, probably still run by the government, and there was a private-sector competitor offering what they described as “business class” bus travel.
It’s comfy travelling by business class bus!
There wasn’t much difference in the price between the two, but the business class option listed wireless internet, catering and “an attendant” amongst their bonuses. Unfortunately, I couldn’t book online, as they would only accept Estonian-based visas, so I thought if I went to the terminal nice and early I might be able to buy a ticket beforehand.
For a while this morning I thought I’d actually gone to the wrong terminal. Without any sign of the Hansa Bus on the departures board, I had pretty much resigned myself to joining the long queue of those taking the traditional bus service.
“It’ll be fine”, I thought to myself, as I waited in the fairly lengthy queue. And then all of a sudden there was a loud bang and then a crunching sound. It was then we all realised the driver had misjudged the height of the terminal and had crashed the bus into it.
Oh my goodness”, I thought to myself, as the woman next to me in the queue and I looked at each other with a worried look on our faces.
As it turns out, she was also booked on the Hansa business class bus and was similarly confused. We then offered each other a smile of relief, and a look of condolence to the others in the long queue, when our bus arrived a minute or so later. The physical contrast between the two could not have been more stark. The standard bus looked twenty years old, ours was bright, shiny and new.
And while the other bus is packed to the rafters, ours is half empty. We’ve already been served coffee by our “attendant”. I have a single seat with plenty of legroom, though the tray table is a little small. I could also go for a walk if I wanted to and read one of the newspapers or books from their library, watch a movie, or maybe just sit back and relax and have a nap under the nice blanket the attendant has given everyone. But no, I’m making good use of the wireless internet and decided to update my blog, simply because I can.
Today, I had the privilege of interviewing David Hall—Paralympian, and a former world number one in wheelchair tennis—for my upcoming podcast, The Limb Shift. We spoke about the experience of limb loss and the complexities of living with limb difference, a central focus of the project.
It’s Friday night and memories of what he had to say are still heavy in my thoughts. I listened back to the interview on the train home from the Central Coast, and I was struck by how beautifully David speaks about his own experiences. There is a candidness in his answers—a beautiful generosity of spirit—that I know will resonate deeply with the audience.
At sixteen, David was just beginning his adult life, having recently left school to start a clerical job with the New South Wales government in Sydney. However, a single “impetuous decision” to hitchhike to a party on the Central Coast changed everything when he was hit by a car.
The accident was nearly fatal; he actually died that night and had to be resuscitated before being airlifted to Westmead Hospital. The physical toll was immense, resulting in the loss of both legs. He spent four months in the hospital, grappling with kidney failure and significant weight loss while being bedridden.
Initially, David navigated the trauma in a “drugged up shock” and a state of defiance. The breakthrough came when his best friend, “Brownie”, visited and offered simple words of support. “I remember he kind of tapped the bed and he said, ‘oh, yeah, it’ll be all right, Hallie.’ … oh my God, the floodgates just opened”. This moment of vulnerability was his first step toward acceptance, a realisation of the gravity of his new reality.
David’s transition into wheelchair tennis was sparked by a “lightbulb moment” when he saw an article in a local newspaper about Terry Mason, a man playing tennis in a wheelchair. Reconnecting with the game from a seated position was frustrating at first, as he struggled to adapt his old swings to a wheelchair.
For several years, he balanced his clerical job at the Gosford and Wyong police stations with international travel. Eventually, he realised he had to be “all in” to reach the top. Against his mother’s concerns about leaving a secure government role—“David, no one quits the government,” she had warned—he resigned to pursue tennis full-time.
This dedication led to an extraordinary twelve-year professional career, culminating in his greatest achievement: winning gold at the Sydney 2000 Paralympics. Representing his country on home soil was a rare blessing that eclipsed his numerous World Championships and Grand Slam titles. Of that moment, Hall says:
“I never wanted to be known as the guy that couldn’t win gold in his home town, as the number one in the world… after I won that gold medal, it’s almost like, oh, man, I can exhale now”.
The road to professional sport began in the rehab gym, where his physical therapist pushed him relentlessly. He practiced walking unassisted on grass to prepare for “real world” distractions and learned to navigate steps backwards on prosthetics. His training regime was intense; he would push his wheelchair for kilometres to build cardio, chasing the endorphin hit that represented a way out of the hospital.
The image was taken in Garden Square at the Melbourne Tennis Centre (also known as Melbourne Park). The bust was unveiled in 2015 to commemorate Hall’s induction into the Australian Tennis Hall of Fame, and it is positioned alongside statues of other iconic Australian tennis players, such as Rod Laver, Evonne Goolagong Cawley, and John Newcombe.
Retirement in 2005 brought a new challenge: a “big depressive hole”. Hall felt lost without the “travelling circus” of the professional tour until legendary tennis figure John Newcombe helped him transition into an ambassadorial role with Tennis Australia.
Intriguingly, despite his legendary status, Hall no longer plays the sport that made him famous. As his focus shifted to long-term health, he found the enjoyment of hitting balls faded. He notes:
“I think I didn’t really, you know, enjoy it that much to to hit balls. And I think if I’m doing anything with a, you know, a bat or a ball, it’s just playing ping pong at the pub”.
Today, at fifty-six, Hall focuses on maintaining his health through Pilates and has found a new calling as a storyteller through his autobiography, Super Beast. He views his experiences not as a “vanity project,” but as a way to help others navigate their own adversities. Listening to him today, it is clear that the impact of his journey is still fresh; even when speaking about his gold medal, “the emotion is still there, bubbling underneath the surface”.
It’s Wednesday night and I’m sitting here all alone in front of my computer. I’d still happily be alone, but do you know where I’d rather be?
I’d like to be sitting in a bar somewhere, with a scotch and soda, listening to live music. Or I’d rather be at Palm’s Nightclub on Oxford Street dancing to some great retro tunes.
I love music. I listen to music for at least an hour each day: it makes me happy, it makes me sad.
My God, I wish this COVID-19 thing would end, and we could all go out again, listen to music, and dance. I can do it at home, but it’s not as much fun.
I also like take to photographs at gigs, and these are a few of my favourites.
Måns Zelmerlöw at Stockholm Pride
September (Petra Marklund) plays Sydney, Australia 7.11.08
Robyn at Oxford Art FactoryElectric Fields at the National Indigenous Music AwardsSports at Taronga ZooStockholm Pride on Expressen
I first read “Death In Venice” over twenty years ago. It was a university text in first year, I think. I seem to remember quite enjoying it because it was reasonably short and I thought the themes were quite interesting, although of course, there’s some a bit pervy about an old bloke who falls in love with a teenage boy.
As part of our studies, we also watched the famous 1971 movie version, Morte a Venezia, starring Dirk Bogarde. Maybe it was wrong place, wrong time, but I didn’t really enjoy the movie. Imagine if you would a group of 19 year olds in a stuffy university cinema did when he finally died? They cheered! In some ways it reminds me of the story about the urban myth about Pia Zadora’s performance in the stage version of “The Diary of Anne Frank”, which was so bad that when the Nazis came to the house, the audience stood up and yelled: “She’s in the attic!”
This production of Benjamin Britten’s opera of “Death In Venice” at the Sydney Opera House draws heavily on the imagery of the film, with a similar palette of colours and a brooding sensibility, and the character of Tadzio bore a remarkable physical resemblance to the film’s Bjorn Andresen. The music, the performances, all were terrific.
In particular, Philip Langridge as Von Aschenbach was amazing, especially as the opera mostly takes the form of a solo work. In a performance that combined both energy and subtlety, Langridge was the perfect person for this role. He has sung with most of the major orchestras, opera companies and Festivals world wide during his 40 year career, with a repertoire stretching from Baroque to the present day.
And of course, being opening night, there were a few celebrities in the audience including Dame Joan Sutherland. I was lucky enough to be invited back to the Green Room and there she was. I asked someone if she’d enjoyed the performance to which he replied, well she missed the first half. What? “Yeh, she arrived late and they wouldn’t let her in, so she spent the first half in the Green Room”. Great story, eh?
Just a brief visit this time, as she has work commitments today and tomorrow.
It’s hard to believe we’ve known each other for over thirty years.
In fact, we were discussing tonight where we have chosen to live: she in Melbourne, me in Sydney.
“I’ve been here over fifteen years”, I told her, adding, “I’ve almost lived in Sydney longer than Lismore” (my home town).
For Sue, she’s been in Melbourne “longer than any other place I’ve lived”, she added.
It’s a strange state of affairs, in some ways.
We’re both from the country and the “country” makes up an important part of our identities and yet, we’ve both been living in the city (different cities) for many years, and we’ve both become “city folk” in lots of ways.
Sue is in Sydney for work today and tomorrow, and is staying with me tonight. I’m going to Melbourne in a few weeks time for work and will stay with her also. At last we have this great symmetry in our working lives that involves regular visits to the others’ city.
Tonight we had a bite to eat at nearby Il Bareto, a great little Italian place. Sue had the home made gnocchi, I had the pressed veal. Great food.
And then we came home ate chocolate, chatted, and eventually watched “60 minute makeover”. Although I’d heard about it, I’ve never seen it before.
As the name implies, it’s a house renovation program done in the space of sixty minutes.
Tonight’s program was a renovation for a couple of gay guys who loved karaoke and show tunes. Groan.
As Yani from Yaniism noted on Twitter it was the “best. worst. episode. ever”.
A few hours later and it’s time to hit the sack.
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Re Millers Point Housing commission residents. I do feel for anyone who suddenly finds themselves without a home, however I believe these tenants are to be re-housed. Now I can understand many may not want to leave the area in which they have lived for many years, but sometimes we all have to make a change, for various reasons. I will have to make a change in the next few years, I don’t want to, but I know it must happen. The houses at Millers Point are tenanted. Do the tenants care for these houses? The tenants may love living in the area, but do they love their houses, and care for them?
My late husband’s ancestor was George Morris, owner & resident of a home in Millers Point in the 1880’s. He came here as a convict in 1817 on the “Morley”, his wife & children followed a couple of years later, & more children were to be born & become good Australian citizens. George & Ann Morris became the owners of Inns in early Sydney, the “Greyhound”, “Australian” (once property of Isaac Nichols in George Street, adjacent to King’s wharf), & “Crown & Anchor” & despite his convict background, George, his wife & family did well for themselves in Sydney. Recently some houses in Millers Point were sold, for a high price, one of those houses being the past home of George Morris. An Open House day was held & one of the descendants of George went along to see and walk through this house that his ancestor once lived in. A copy of the book “Upon an Extensive Scale – The George Morris Story….1782-1842” written by my late husband, was left with the Real Estate Agent, who, when the house was sold, passed the book onto the new owners & the Agent contacted me to tell me of this.
I am glad to know the new owners can read about the early days of this house & about the Morris family, once proud owners of this once lovely house, which I hope will become lovely again.
There are many beautiful old homes in Millers Point, but they are falling into rack & ruin for lack of tender loving care.
I do hope the present tenants will be well cared for, but I also hope this area can once more become a lovely part of Sydney which can be admired by many locals and visitors to our country.
I wonder if some are still families connected to wharf workers? It is a difficult matter. So many more people could be housed from the money raised by the property sales, but to take people away from an area they have lived perhaps for decades could be seen as quite cruel.
Re Millers Point Housing commission residents. I do feel for anyone who suddenly finds themselves without a home, however I believe these tenants are to be re-housed. Now I can understand many may not want to leave the area in which they have lived for many years, but sometimes we all have to make a change, for various reasons. I will have to make a change in the next few years, I don’t want to, but I know it must happen. The houses at Millers Point are tenanted. Do the tenants care for these houses? The tenants may love living in the area, but do they love their houses, and care for them?
My late husband’s ancestor was George Morris, owner & resident of a home in Millers Point in the 1880’s. He came here as a convict in 1817 on the “Morley”, his wife & children followed a couple of years later, & more children were to be born & become good Australian citizens. George & Ann Morris became the owners of Inns in early Sydney, the “Greyhound”, “Australian” (once property of Isaac Nichols in George Street, adjacent to King’s wharf), & “Crown & Anchor” & despite his convict background, George, his wife & family did well for themselves in Sydney. Recently some houses in Millers Point were sold, for a high price, one of those houses being the past home of George Morris. An Open House day was held & one of the descendants of George went along to see and walk through this house that his ancestor once lived in. A copy of the book “Upon an Extensive Scale – The George Morris Story….1782-1842” written by my late husband, was left with the Real Estate Agent, who, when the house was sold, passed the book onto the new owners & the Agent contacted me to tell me of this.
I am glad to know the new owners can read about the early days of this house & about the Morris family, once proud owners of this once lovely house, which I hope will become lovely again.
There are many beautiful old homes in Millers Point, but they are falling into rack & ruin for lack of tender loving care.
I do hope the present tenants will be well cared for, but I also hope this area can once more become a lovely part of Sydney which can be admired by many locals and visitors to our country.
I wonder if some are still families connected to wharf workers? It is a difficult matter. So many more people could be housed from the money raised by the property sales, but to take people away from an area they have lived perhaps for decades could be seen as quite cruel.