Earlier today my friend Sue faced the dilemma of guests coming for lunch (including myself, a connoisseur of cheesecakes): she had all the ingredients for a cheesecake EXCEPT the Arrowroot biscuits needed for the base.
Her cheesecake innovation? Crushed up Tim-Tams… It works!
Cheesecake with a Tim-Tam base
Amongst my friends on various social media were some of these comments…
oh – my – god
one word – genius
Heavenly. :)
It looks like the caremel cubes :)
Now I know what to do with all the not quite stale chocolate ripple bikkies I’ve got! (I don’t want to do a chock ripple cake!)
So how does it taste?
I would work with this!!
Butternut Snaps are very tasty too.
I’ve been thinking of a way to up the calorie density of cheesecake for years! And now I know how !!
When I first started this journey as an amputee, almost three years ago, I had a very simple, perhaps naive, mental image of how it would go. I thought I would go to the clinic, get measured for a prosthetic limb, and that would be it. I’d have “my leg,” and we’d walk off into the sunset together for the rest of my life. I saw it as a permanent piece of hardware—like a car or a kitchen appliance. You buy it once, and you’re set.
I soon learned that the reality of life as an amputee is much more fluid. In these first few years, I’ve discovered that a prosthetic limb isn’t a static tool; it’s an ever-evolving interface that has to keep up with a body that refuses to stay the same size. Currently, I am in that familiar state of limbo—awaiting approval for yet another new limb—and it’s given me time to reflect on why I’ve already been through so many.
The Shrinking Reality
The “problem,” if you can call it that, is actually a sign of progress. It’s all about the “stump” (or residual limb). In the beginning, the limb is often swollen from surgery and carries muscle mass that it no longer needs to move a foot or an ankle. As you start walking and becoming active again, that limb begins to change shape and volume with surprising speed. It “matures,” which is a polite way of saying it shrinks.
Getting fitted for my first prosthetic in August 2023.
The “Socks” Game
As the leg gets smaller, the socket that fit perfectly a month ago suddenly feels like a loose boot. To manage this, we use a range of adjustments. We start with liners, and then we move to “socks”—specialised ply-knit covers worn over the liner.
On a cold morning, I might start with a 3-ply sock. By the afternoon, as my volume shifts with activity and temperature, I might need to layer on a 5-ply or even an 8-ply. It’s a constant game of Tetris played with your own anatomy.
There have been times where the fit was so precarious that the comedy of the situation took over. I’ll never forget the day in the office foyer when a colleague asked what I was doing. My deadpan response—“My leg has fallen off”—turned a loose bolt and a failing fit into a “minor surgery” story that left us both laughing.
Walking on my first prosthetic in September 2023.
Albert, Bertha, and the Art of Replacement
Eventually, however, the leg shrinks so much that no amount of socks can fill the gap. The alignment goes off, the stability vanishes, and you find yourself back in the casting chair.
When I finally moved into my “definitive” legs, I decided they needed more than just serial numbers. I named them Albert and Bertha, after my parents, Albert Bernard O’Brien and Bertha Ann Dunn (aka “The Wet Leg”.)
I remember the first outing with the waterproof limb in December 2024. Standing in the pool, I was mesmerised by what I called the “aquarium effect”—watching bubbles rise from the pylon as the water displaced the air inside. It was a strange, beautiful milestone that reminded me that while I lost a limb to sepsis, I gained a new way of interacting with the world.
Wearing my “weg leg” in the swimming pool.
Awaiting the New Step
Right now, we’ve reached the limit of what socks and liners can do, and so I am hoping for NDIS approval of a new socket that better fits my current state of being. The wait for approval can be frustrating. It’s a period of “limbo” where you are physically ready for the next stage, but the bureaucracy has to catch up. Yet, looking back at the photos from 2023 and 2024, I see the progress. I see the transition from the “Enable” temporary leg to the personality of Albert and Bertha.
I’ve made peace with the “multiples.” They aren’t just redundant equipment or a sign of a “broken” process. They are markers of my recovery. Each new socket represents a version of me that has walked further, worked harder, and moved more than the one before it. I might have thought I’d only ever need one leg, but I’ve learned that to keep moving forward, you have to be willing to leave the old versions of yourself behind.
I was very excited when I checked the letterbox on arriving home today.
As well as the phone bill – yawn – there was a collection card which required a visit to the post office.
“It’s my new passport”, I realised straight away, marvelling at how quickly it had arrived (less than two weeks).
My new passport expires in 2019. Does such a year exist?
And it certainly is impressive for a number of reasons. I love all the new technology, the chips, the ghost immages, and all of the associated stuff to make it more secure.
And I love it because, at long last, I look like an adult. In my old passport, I looked a bit “just got out of bed”, whereas in this new one I’m wearing a suit, glasses etc.
Best of all, though? It means I can go travelling again, with plans already underway for a trip to NZ in a couple of months, and back to Sweden next year.
“It’s good to check the letterbox”, I reminded myself when I walked back up the street, as I hardly ever check it these days, because most of my correspondence is now done online.
“And especially good to check to see if you have any overdue bills”, I thought, “especially those which tell you the power is about to be disconnected”.
For some reason or other, the auto-payment thing on my electricity bill stopped a few months ago. But of course, because I thought it was an auto-payment, I never opened the letter when it arrived a few weeks ago.
Thus, when I arrived home last night I discovered they had already switched off the power.
Buggar!
When I woke this morning the place was eeeeeeerily quiet. No clock radio. No television. No gentle hum from the refrigerator.
The first thing I did this morning was ring up, pay the bill, and ask them to re-connect.
“We need you to be there during a four hour window”, the bloke on the phone told me this morning.
“Couldn’t you just do it remotely?”, I asked, with an answer in the negative. Apparently you have to be there in case anything has been left on. It’s a safety issue, apparently, though I suspect it’s probably more of a liability issue than a safety one.
“Most people say they’ve been overseas. No one ever says they forgot to pay”, the bloke who came to re-connect told me jokingly this afternoon.
Anyway, so I’ve got the power back on. I WILL remember to pay the bill. And I WILL remember to check the letterbox more often.
I’ve spent a little bit of time in the last few days – including tonight – looking at online dating sites. I do this from time to time when I’m not out and about, when I’m not working, and when I’m not chatting with people online.
I don’t know why I bother. Deep down inside I’m genuinely not looking for a relationship. I’m pretty happy in my life right now and I quite like living alone. I quite like the solitary life, and probably deep down that’s my natural inclination. By nature I’m probably a little too selfish to be someone you could live happily with. And messy…
But looking at online sites? What’s that about? Perhaps it’s “insurance” for the future? Perhaps there’s something deep inside me which is saying “you may not want a relationship now, but you might want one in five years, so quit stuffing around you middle-aged middle-class wanker?”. But there again, that’s all rather selfish isn’t it? Wanting a relationship because of what you need, as opposed to what you both bring together? And not really why you go into a relationship, is it? Or is it?
As I’ve glanced around these sites I’m not really sure why some of the people are there either. Well, I am sure on some of the sites. On some of the sites, “my people” appear only to be there for a bit of hanky-panky. There’s a lot of people who don’t appear to have a face. You read about some people who sound quite nice and interesting and then you note they have the word “tripod” somewhere in their profile name. There seems to be a lot of people looking for a bit “on the side” “during daytime hours” if you get my meaning.
On the other side of things, there appears to be a few people desperate for a relationship. For some people you see the “biological clock” (or the “psychological clock”) ticking ever so loudly. I’m obviously not one of those people either. If I was to pursue online dating I’m not really sure where I’d fit in. I tried “E-Harmony” which has been advertised on television lately, which directed me to their homo equivalent, “Compatible Partners” and found only three people in the whole of Sydney who matched me for similar age, similar interests etc.
I’ve tried online dating previously. I’ve had a couple of online dates in the last few years. One involved someone who clearly wanted to have sex then there, now, within minutes, in a “do we have to leave the restaurant, can’t we have sex in the toilets?” scenario. On the other occasion, the bloke appeared to be interviewing me for the recently advertised “vacant position” of “boyfriend”. Half way through the “interview process”, I got the strong impression I hadn’t gotten the job. But at the same time, I was kinda relieved.
Clearly it works for many people. It obviously doesn’t work for others. I’m still left wondering if online dating is not for me, or if I’m not for online dating. Maybe it’s not how I connect to people? Maybe I’m better face to face or getting to know someone over several years, as opposed to online?
There again, maybe I’m looking in the wrong places? Someone I know recently told me he’d met someone through Twitter…
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.
Though I know Jacaranda trees are considered a “pest” in many parts of Australia, because they’re an introduced species, I love them. Maybe it’s because I’m originally from the NSW North Coast, and nearby Grafton is considered the “Jacaranda Capital of Australia”? The purple flowers are, in my view, quite beautiful, and as I stopped and admired them tonight on Riley Street, Darlinghurst, there was another person taking in their view, and taking photographs of them, so I can’t be alone. I was on my way to meet a friend at “Bar Vincent”, on Liverpool Street, Darlinghurst. “This restaurant has an Onde vibe” to it, I said to my friend, reminiscent of another nearby restaurant with a similar “neighbourhood vibe” and menu, where we we had often dined together over the last twenty years. As it turns out, one of the key staff members had also worked there, during the restaurant’s final six months.Shared kingfish for entree. Shared beef for the main.
To be honest, we probably spent too much on the bottle of wine we shared, but hey, you only live once. The food, wine and company were excellent.
From there, we wandered up Oxford Street, checking out the Thursday night sites of Halloween.
People drinking wine and painting.“I used to always buy wallets from Sax Leather” I told my friend. I don’t think she quite believed me, noting the shop is more known for bondage gear, and politically-inspired shop displays.
As my friend and I waited for her Uber, I received a text from another friend who had just been to a college reunion. “Where are you?”, she asked, knowing I lived close-by. “About 100 metres away”, I replied, and as one of my good friends said goodbye, another said hello. What an awesome Thursday night.
My friend Graeme Read was interviewed on 702 ABC Sydney tonight talking about various ABBA things, with the hook for the story being the recently announced opening of an ABBA Museum in Stockholm.
