The first time I saw Måns Zelmerlöw perform live was at Stockholm Pride in 2008. At the time, I think he really only had one hit song, “Cara Mia”.
Måns Zelmerlöw at Stockholm Pride 2008
Eight years later, he was back at Stockholm Pride, and performed that song again. Last night he also sang another previous hit, (and Eurovision/Melodifestivalen entry) “Hope And Glory” as well as “Heroes”, the song which won him this year’s Eurovision Song Contest. Although I was close enough to touch him, I didn’t. Sweden has laws about that kind of thing :)
Måns Zelmerlöw at Stockholm PrideMåns Zelmerlöw at Stockholm PrideMåns Zelmerlöw at Stockholm PrideMåns Zelmerlöw at Stockholm Pride
Over the last few days, I’ve spent a fair bit of time peeking through windows.
I’ve been keen to look at what’s happening behind the (still) mud-stained windows of the many (still) closed shops of Lismore, three months after the devastating floods.
A few days ago, the former Mayor of Lismore, Jenny Dowell tweeted this rather startling observation.
A friend counted the open shops in our #Lismore inner CBD block today – 18 of the 130 Let that sink in- more than 3 months after the catastrophic floods. We need much more help from our governments #lismoreflood
With each passing day, things are improving, but there’s still a long way to go.
The Richmond Hotel officially closed a couple of weekends ago. The damage caused by the flood has been too much for the long-term owners.Taking a peak into the window of Mary G’s. I’m not sure if the hotel still is owned by the former Queensland footballer, Paul Vautin, but he certainly owned it for a time. The nightclub area up the back has re-opened with sparsely decorated furniture and a concrete floor.Taking a peek into the window of the former Lismore Post Office, a wonderful old building that dates to the late 1800s.
A Sunday afternoon view of the part of the Lismore CBD.
It was a day to go “over the bridge”. Not the “Sydney Harbour Bridge”, but “over the bridge” nonetheless to Drummoyne. As I went to the 131500 website and searched for options from the City to Drummoyne I noticed a familiar bus route the M50. “I’m sure I’ve seen that route come through Surry Hills”, I thought to myself. And so I had. With a little more research, I discovered this recently installed “Metro” bus route goes all the way from Coogee to Drummoyne. Suddenly I realised I could walk a couple of hundred metres from my house to the bus stop, catch the bus, and then walk a couple of hundred metres at the end.
The view from Drummoyne
“Praise Kristina”, I thought myself, recognising that for all of the stuff ups of the NSW Government over the last few years, and the growing anger there is about public transport and public services more generally in NSW, I, for one, was mightily impressed with the new bus route that meant I could go from my place to Joan’s place for just a few dollars and in less than thirty minutes. “Praise Kristina”, I repeated.
I needed to travel “over the bridge” today for a special meeting of Hawkesbury One, the art collectors group I’m a member of. Today was an important meeting for many reasons, including planning for an exhibition of works from the collection at the Newcastle Regional Gallery. If you’re a particularly lovely blogger or friend, you’ll get an invitation to the official opening, but otherwise, I hope you’ll attend the exhibition nonetheless. It’s interesting because although there are other collectors groups in Australia, we’re unaware of any which has done such a major exhibition, and one which has generated as much publicity. Anyway, please check out the site, and if you think anyone you know would be interested, please tell them about what we do.
On arriving home I wrote up the minutes from the meeting, made a few navigation and cosmetic sites to the website, and then had a little lie-down.
Later tonight I caught up with some mates for a few drinks. Also at the bus stop, I also briefly saw a bloke I met recently who I thought was a pretty nice guy, but whose phone number I’d lost in changing phones. Praise Kristina, yet again.
After a really busy week at work, I was in two minds about this weekend. On the one hand, I could have just sat around all weekend doing nothing. On the other, I could have tried to fit in as much as I possibly could before returning to work again. As it is, I found a reasonable compromise: a bit of both.
I had drinks with John and Graeme on Friday night, which was a load of fun, and then I woke reasonably early yesterday morning. My only commitment for the day was lunch with Damien at 12.30.
At about 12.00, however, I had my first “senior’s moment”. All ready to catch the bus to Circular Quay, I’d had a shower, I’d ironed my shirt (well half-ironed my shirt, if you know what I mean), and, fully-dressed was ready to leave the house. Unfortunately though, I couldn’t find my house keys, and thus had to spend about 25 minutes wandering around the house trying to find them. “Are they in the pants you wore last night? Just retrace your steps”, Damien asked and suggested when I rang him to explain why I would be late.
Minutes later, I found the keys in my jeans pocket. It was like one of those moments older people sometimes have where they’re looking for their glasses, only to discover them on the top of their heads. D’oh.
And so, running late I headed onto Crown Street with the intention of catching a cab. As Crown Street was busy, I quickly took control of the situation and gave the cab driver firm instructions about which way I wanted to go. Left at Devonshire, right into Riley, left into Goulburn, up Wentworth, join College and then down Macquarie I told him, emphatically. 10 minutes later and I was at Circular Quay ready for lunch with Damien at Opera Bar.
It was then, however, I had my second “senior’s moment”, as I realised we were supposed to meet at “Quay Bay” at Customs House. If you’ve never been there, I’d highly recommend it, as the meals are excellent value. For just a few dollars more than a main at the Paragon – the pub across the road – you get a really good meal in a nice bar. I had the lamb cassulet, Damien had the trevalla, both of which were excellent and only $20 each.
After lunch I caught the ferry back to Darling Harbour – an excellent trip – and wandered home and did nothing very much last night. I did, however chat online with my friend David about our holiday in France together. And then I went to bed.
I had brunch today with Colin at a cafe – I can’t recall the name – at Kings Cross. Poached eggs with a tomato, avocado and bacon salsa for me, which was great.
As we wandered around Kings Cross we noticed how much the area had changed in the last ten years or so. Actually, the last forty years or so, as Colin had lived in a bedsit in Kings Cross in the 1960s before he went to England. “We had a brothel next door”, he told me, as we wandered down the street where he lived.
And then he showed me the hotel where The Beatles stayed when they visited Australia. “Was it very posh?”, I asked him. “Not overly so”, he replied, telling me they had hoped to stay at The Hilton, though the managers there were worried about all of the fans. Today it looks pretty ordinary, indeed.
As we walked towards the Kings Cross Food & Wine Festival, we noticed a construction site.
I love looking through the gaps in construction site walls. Although it’s mostly just a big hole in the ground, you sometimes notice how spectacular the view will be once they have completed construction of the new site.
At the Food & Wine Festival, we sat and watched the dog show, hosted by Verushka Darling which was great fun. We sat through the speech by the local member of the City of Sydney (pretty ordinary really), and by the local member, Malcolm Turnbull (pretty good actually), before heading off back towards Oxford Street where we parted ways.
Half way along we stopped in for a glass of wine at the Green Park.
It’s after midnight and I’m having a glass of wine to try and wind down a bit after a very busy day’s work in the Tally Room for the NSW Election. Although I guess everyone knew the overall result several weeks ago, confirmed with this week’s opinion polls, there were some interesting competitions to observe, including Goulburn, Murray-Darling, Tweed, Pittwater and Manly.
A far bigger surprise occurred earlier today when I went to vote at my nearby Bourke Street Primary School. Joining the fairly lengthy queue which extended outside the door, I suddenly found myself whisked to the front of the queue and able to vote within seconds. The issue, you see, is that as a registered voter in “Sydney” I was a bit of a rarity. In a queue of maybe 50 people, almost all were registered in other seats.
Media pass for the NSW Election Tally Room
I was glad I was able to go to the front of the queue, because I was just about to knock a bloke on the head (no, not really), who was standing behind me who was telling his girlfriend how to vote. “Now, you need to vote for Clover on the small paper, and for the Liberals on the large paper”. I don’t care about his choices, it’s just that he was telling his girlfriend how she should vote. Is this 2007 or 1907, I wondered for a moment.
Although I normally vote by putting in every number ticket for the Upper House (I’ll direct my preferences, thankyou!) I was a little lazy this time, just putting a #1 for my first choice and letting them do all the hard work.
What also surprised me today was the presence on the Upper House ballot of groups like Unity & Australians Against Further Immigration. I hadn’t realised both parties were running again.
When I arrived at the Tally Room this afternoon I also noticed they had been allocated seating places for the night, though I don’t recall if they were actually next to each other. It would have demonstrated a wonderfully wicked sense of humour by the State Electoral Office had that occurred.
Surprisingly it was a reasonably long night, although the overall result was clear quite early. At the last NSW election, I recall, the Leader’s Speeches were at about 8.45 and 9.05pm, while this time they were roughly an hour later. We were all quite relieved when at last they occured, as it had been a long day.
This wasn’t the only competition I’ve been to this week, though.
On Thursday night I caught up with my mate Paul after work for a couple of beers. It had been a long day and I was feeling a little thirsty. I also hadn’t seen Paul for a couple of weeks, so what better way to combine the two than to meet for an afternoon beer at the Newtown Hotel.
After a couple of beers and a meal at the nearby vegetarian restaurant he asked if I wanted to stay for the Amateur Unisex Stripper Night. Sure, why not? Little did I know we would be soon watching a 60 year old female stripper who showed more than many of the gay boys in the audience felt comfortable with. Little did I know we would soon be seeing a former member of Manpower (or so he claimed) who would also make many of the gay boys in the audience feel uncomfortable. “I’m turning straight”, I overheard one say, when the Manpower bloke did his stuff.
Sign announcing the Amateur Strip Night at the Newtown Hotel, Sydney, Australia
But so fascinating was the night that I’m probably going to go again next Thursday for the Grand Final. And unlike tonight’s competition, it will be good to see a competition that I don’t already know the results for.
There is a particular kind of trap that many of us who travel for work fall into.
You know the one: the “work-hotel-pub-work” cycle. You fly into a new city, spend all day in meetings, grab a quick bite at a local bar, and then head straight back to your hotel room to open the laptop and keep going until your eyes blur.
I’ve been a hard worker my entire career, but this week in Darwin, I decided to break the cycle. I made a firm resolution: the laptop stays at work.
I first came to Darwin in the late 90s, and I’ve been lucky enough to return many times since—including a stint in management at the ABC.
When the offer came up to head back north to help bed in a new team, I didn’t hesitate.
Even with a cyclone looming and heavy rain forecast, the lure of the Territory was too strong.
As it turns out, the weather has been spectacular. We’re in that magical window where the humidity is present but the sky is clear, with temperatures sitting comfortably in the mid to late 20s.
After a full-on day at the office, I realised that if I spent my evening staring at a spreadsheet in a hotel room, I’d be missing the very essence of why this place is so special.
One of my main apprehensions about this trip was the logistics of bringing my mobility scooter. I knew it would be essential for getting around in the heat, but the “white-knuckle” paperwork involved—securing approvals and lithium battery clearances—had me worried. I shouldn’t have been. The process was seamless.
From the security checks in Sydney to the flight itself (where I ended up with three seats to myself), it was one of the most pleasant transcontinental trips I’ve had. Having that independence to zip around has changed the entire experience of being here.
Following my “no laptop” rule, I finished work and headed straight to Shenanigans for a glass of wine—a nostalgic stop for anyone who knows Darwin’s CBD. From there, I took the scooter for a long run along the Esplanade.
There is something grounding about sitting by the water here. When you look out past the nearby islands, you realise just how close Darwin is to Indonesia and East Timor. It feels less like the “edge” of Australia and more like a gateway to the rest of the world.
The CBD has changed—a few more empty shopfronts than my last visit three or four years ago—but the adventure remains.
I’m finding the best local coffee spots, meeting the new team, and ensuring that this trip is about more than just the “grind.”
It’s a reminder that no matter how hard we work, we have to leave space for the “magical” moments. For me, tonight, that meant a sunset, a scooter, and a closed laptop.
As I came from home work tonight I wandered past my “local pub”.
Well, strictly speaking in Surry Hills I have a lot of local pubs. In fact, I’m sure I read somewhere Surry Hills has the highest number of pubs per capita, and per geographical area of anywhere in Australia.
But even though I have The Trinity closer to me, The Crown is probably more of a “local”.
Like a lot of pubs in Sydney, these days, they’ve tried to accommodate both smokers and poker machine players.
Thus, they’ve introduced an outside bar.
On the good side, it allows a bit of fresh air into the hotel. It also means that if you have a dog, as I noticed tonight, you can leave him tied up outside and not be too far away from him.
But as I noticed the other morning there are negatives too. For example, at about 7 o’clock on the morning of Father’s Day, I noticed a few inebriated people from the night before still out and about wishing everyone a “Happy F&*#ing Father’s Day”.
Actually it’s not just Father’s Day. It happens most days.
As I’ve previously blogged, the history of licensing laws has had an impact on architectural design of the city’s pubs. So too it seems has the latest anti-smoking laws.
Such are the problems of observation when you have a journalist living in the area.
I had an hour or so to kill before heading off to Swedish class, so I actually popped into the pub for a glass of wine and a bit of revision, which was very pleasant indeed, even if the introduction of the smoking area now means they have something resembling “The Berlin Wall” inside.
I was waiting for my bus to take me down to class.
Speaking of buses, on my way to work this morning, I noticed there was a blitz on bus tickets with maybe a dozen ticket inspectors outside the Norfolk Hotel.
“This bus is clean enough to eat my dinner off”, the bloke who inspected our bus noted as he checked everyone.
Of course, as a journalist, I rang my colleagues to tell them I thought there was a ticket blitz underway.
I almost felt compelled to ring with another story on the way home from Swedish class tonight, however, when I noticed something different.
As I waited for my bus, the driver pulled over somewhat reluctantly over to pick me up.
“There’s no point waiting at this stop. No driver will ever pick you up”, he told me. “It’s just too hard to turn around the corner and pick you up. But keep on trying”, he said.
It was then I felt kinda sorry for the driver. I mean, I could have been a bus inspector. But instead I’m a working journalist with an eye for a good yarn which is probably worse.
There’s a lot to like about Mans.