“I don’t feel like fifty. I certainly don’t ACT like I’m fifty”, I shared with a colleague at work today. He turned fifty a few years ago. We talked about the difference between when our parents were this age, and what it’s like now.
Twenty or thirty years ago, we agreed, fifty was “old”. You would be well into the later years of your life, and within a few years of retirement, you would be dead. But life expectancy has changed all that, and we both agreed we would probably have “many years” ahead of us.
Although I’m having drinks with friends next weekend, I turned fifty this week without much “affair”. On Monday, I went to work, came home and watched television. Though I’ve toyed with the idea of a range of party options for twelve months, I realised (in the end) it probably wasn’t that significant. It’s not as though I’m in denial or anything like that, it’s just that it’s not really all that important in the grand scheme of things. Yeah, there’ll be a bit of a party, but there are probably many more significant milestones in someone’s life.
Twenty one matters, because age matters when you’re younger. Memorably I thought there was a big difference between 19 and 23 when I was about that old. But at 50, you can have friends, colleagues, relationships with people across all ages.
All of that said, I got a letter in the mail today from the Commonwealth Government inviting me to participate in the National Bowel Cancer Screening Program. Really? I can’t be THAT old!
“Have you printed off your vaccination certificate?”, I asked a family member earlier in the week. He’s a tradie who has been living and working in New South Wales for several months, and has been staying with us for about the last four weeks.
Lately, the work he does has started to dry up, and he’s been starting to feel a little homesick, keen to see his closer family. This week he decided he would try to head home, to see if he could cross the tight border into Queensland.
A couple of weeks ago, he wasn’t planning to get a vaccination. Not because he’s not a anti-vaxxer (or at least I don’t think so), he said he felt he didn’t “need it”. But I urged him to get vaccinated, knowing it will become an increasingly important part of work and travel in the future.
I’d also been told by a friend (who lives in NSW, but has a business in Queensland), people seem to have more of a chance of getting through the border check quickly if they are able to show evidence of vaccination.
I even made the appointment for him at the nearby pharmacy in South Lismore. He’s back home tonight, and I hope it played a part in getting him successfully back home to Queensland.
We’ll miss him, as it’s been great to re-connect with him in a face-to-face sense. I think Jack, in particular, will miss him. I think he’s enjoyed having someone to talk about “mechanics and other manly stuff with”. I’m not very good at that kind of conversation.
As for me, I’ve been wondering if I should “risk it” and return home to Sydney, too. I’m also feeling a little homesick. This is now the longest period of time I’ve spent back in Lismore since I finished university at the end of 1986!
“Don’t you even dare think about returning to Sydney”, Pat has said to me on a couple of occasions this week. “It’s too dangerous down there”, she’s added.
Every day we sit and watch on television the 11am NSW COVID media conference and sigh, as there’s never much good news, despite the “positive spin” put on everything.
In the midst of the ever-increasing numbers we also have a bit of fun. Just before the press conference I’ll ask everyone to guess the number of new cases. There’s no “prize” per se, but it brings a moment of joy into a depressing story. On the day the figure passed 1,000 daily cases none of us came even close to guessing.
The advice of friends and colleagues is that I should stay here. “There’s no reason to come back”, they’ve all said.
And indeed, I have a lovely life here.
“I’ve got a lovely daily routine here”, I told colleagues on our weekly team hook-up today. “I’ll go for a walk down the street and grab a coffee. The woman who runs the coffee shop used to work with my niece. The brother of her grandson (who works with her) is best friends with the son of my niece. We all like to have a chat/gossip.”
Bowen’s Pie Shop
“And then I’ll pop in to the post office, the chemist, and the bakery, doing some odd jobs for my family. I’ll call in to the pie shop, too. That’s been owned by the Bowen Family since 1949, and I went to school with Tracey who now runs the shop. We have a chat, too”, I’ve told them.
All in all, what could take 15 minutes, sometmes turns into close to an hour.
The cake shop/bakery at South Lismore has some good “old school treats” on display.The apple cream turnovers are extraordinary!The other day I called in and said hello to the people at the new food truck, now located outside the old railway station. “Welcome to South Lismore”, I told them, only to discover they previously had a “bricks and mortar cafe just down the road at NORCO”.Food truck at the South Lismore Railway StationToday I called into the bottle shop, as I noticed there was already a lengthy queue developing, with cars going down the street, awaiting the entry to the drive through.
“How’s it going?, I asked the bloke behind the counter. “The same number of customers”, he told me. “It’s just that everyone is drinking a hell of a lot more”, he added.
There’s a terrific feature in the Google Photos app, where, quite randomly it seems, you are served a range of automatic features that you might commonly find only in advanced photo editing programs. The most “most out there” one is where the app can automatically remove people from your photographs of well known tourist spots. The app can also look at a range of similar photographs and give everyone a wonderful smile, resulting in one “perfect” photograph. I took a few photographs of Newcastle Harbour tonight and “magically”, this was turned into an animated gif with a flashing light.
Recently I recorded an interview with Emmanuel Kelly for my forthcoming podcast on limb difference and limb loss.
He first came to national attention in Australia when he delivered an emotionally charged performance of John Lennon’s “Imagine” on The X Factor. However, his journey extends far beyond that television debut; born in Iraq with limb difference, he arrived in Australia with his adopted brother, Ahmed—now a Paralympic swimmer—and has since navigated a compelling life story that spans before and after his rise to fame.
For Emmanuel, his identity is defined not by his physical state, but by his agency and the “tough love” instilled by his mother, Moira. A striking example of this approach occurred when Emmanuel was roughly nine years old. While at a shopping centre, his brother questioned why Moira was parking in a disabled spot. When she explained it was for those who “struggle to do stuff,” his brother famously declared, “Well, that’s not me. That’s definitely you.” The exchange led to a physical scuffle between the brothers over who was “more crippled”—an anecdote that illustrates their early refusal to see one another through the lens of disability.
Emmanuel told me he recalls his mother refusing to spoon-feed him and his brother, even when they struggled with basic tasks like using cutlery. “If you’re hungry enough, you’ll learn and you’ll figure it out yourself,” she insisted. Emmanuel credits this “old school” approach for his later ability to achieve his goals, noting, “I wouldn’t have been able or wouldn’t have done anything that I’ve done” without it.
Emmanuel’s relationship with the prosthetics industry is interesting. He told me he is deeply critical of what he perceives as a stagnant, mediocre, and profit-driven sector. He argues that the industry relies on outdated technology and a lack of competition, which forces individuals to endure long wait times for products that often lack precision. “We cannot accept mediocrity,” Emmanuel stated, advocating for the integration of AI, 3D printing, and superior technology to drive down costs and improve quality.
Despite his success, Emmanuel has navigated significant darkness, including a period of homelessness and industry exploitation after his initial rise to fame. He emphasizes that his path to recovery required him to abandon his ego and embrace vulnerability, ultimately deciding that his self-worth could not be dependent on others’ perceptions.
Looking ahead, Emmanuel is shifting his focus from his music career toward large-scale innovation. He noted that a new album and a documentary detailing his journey—including his tour with Coldplay—are set to be released in 2027. His long-term goal is to pioneer “zero barrier” technologies, including an environmentally sustainable, universally accessible theme park. Through his company, Emmanuel aims to challenge the Australian business and creative communities to do more, asserting that his community possesses a combined annual disposable income capable of dwarfing the GDP of major nations.
Reflecting on his role as an advocate, Emmanuel urges others to define their own purpose and reject the notion that one must be limited to a single life goal. “Find a purpose in your life,” he said. “Even if that purpose is a thirty-minute purpose, it doesn’t matter. It’s still a purpose”.
I really loved talking to him, and the longer conversation where he goes into some of these issues in depth will follow when The Limb Shift launches in October.
I don’t think I’ve ever noticed seasonal change as much as I have in the last month.
A few weeks ago, as I traveled in Sweden, I watched with fascination the transition from winter to spring. Although if you’ve been reading Sandra’s blog lately, you’d have to wonder if maybe there was some kind of reversal going on. Today as I went for an afternoon walk around my neighbourhood, I noticed a more subtle transition than that which I experienced in Sweden. Sure, there are some distinct seasons in Sydney. Easter generally marks the transition towards winter. The week between Christmas and NY is usually hot and humid. But by and large, the changes are quite subtle.
In the same way that Sandra’s been writing about how odd it is to still have snow in Stockholm, people here are complaining about the unseasonably humid weather. We’ve had one “cold” morning, as I recall, and that’s about it. Even tonight, it’s warm, humid, and it’s been raining on and off, though hardly noticeably.
Autumn leaves in Sydney
Autumn leaves in Sydney
Autumn leaves in Sydney
Aside from the afternoon walk, it’s been a bit of a do-nothing day for me. The most energetic thing I did was get a haircut. And an odd one too. I’ve never encountered the bloke who cut my hair before, even though he works in a salon I’ve gone to for a number of years. As we began our conversation he was finishing off a conversation with another. “He’s a gay guy who I flirt with. There’s lots of gay guys around here, eh?”, he said to me. “Yeah quite a few…” I told him. I let him generalize about the gays of Surry Hills for a few more minutes before telling him I was also gay. It was an odd conversation in many ways. “Am I really not that obvious?”, I asked myself as I walked out the door.
As if the weather today wasn’t depressing enough, when I walked into Torget in Gamla Stan for a late afternoon glass of wine, they were playing Billie Holiday. I was just about ready to jump off Västerbron.
Despite the weather – the technical term was “shitty” – I had a reasonably lovely day. I had great lunch at the well Danish/Swedish chain Jensens Böfhus, I looked around the city and took many photographs and, I went to the Moderna Museet.
As a collection of contemporary of art, it’s quite conservative. The collection is mostly comprised of traditional art – paintings, photographs, sculptures – though they do have some video art. I watched a short film by William Kentridge called “Journey To The Moon” though regrettably I have no idea what it was about. It was interesting though. And although they have quite a bit of European and North American art from the twentieth century – Liechtenstein, Pollack etc – I was more interested in the Swedish art they displayed. So that’s where I concentrated my attention. Particular favourites from the Swedish collection incuded a piece by Öyvind Fahlström called “World Bank” which features a mountain of gold bars surrounded by images from debtor nations. There was also a beautiful piece by Beth Laurin called “State of Mind” which is a long circular sausage made from vinyl (perhaps) where two faces meat. And on a slightly Swedish note, there’s a really lovely photograph of Ingmar Bergman by the American photographer, Irving Penn. Bergman has his eyes closed. There’s also a great piece by the Japanese conceptual artist, On Kawara which is a series of postcards sent to a doctor in Sweden from different parts of the world which simply say, “I got up at….” (and then the time is listed). Loved it.
I spent a few hours at the gallery, and a few hours wandering around the city more generally.
The news today from Sweden
Looking towards the Royal Palace
A group of sailors or something like that doing something
Looking towards AF Chapman
Fade to grey
Signs of spring
Stockholm today
The view from Moderna Museet to the outside
Group of yummy mummys looking at a painting of a school room
I can’t believe how many different types of weather I’ve experienced in Stockholm on both this trip and the last. On Sunday, it snowed. Yesterday it was warm and sunny. Today it’s grey, overcast, and slightly drizzly. In the midst of it all, I thought to myself “could I live here?” And I think the answer is yes. My Swedish needs to improve. But yes, I could.
Tonight I’m off to see Sarah Dawn Finer perform at China Teatern, which I’ll blog about later.
And tomorrow, I’m off to Manly. Or what appears to be Stockholm’s answer to Manly called Saltsjöbaden. After a few days in Hotel Micro, I’m moving into a grand old hotel which has mixed reviews. Some say it’s lovely, romantic and so on. Others say it’s close to Fawlty Towers.
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Well, happy birthday for last week. Are fifty year olds really less old than they were when we were youthful or is it or perception that changes?
Well, happy birthday for last week. Are fifty year olds really less old than they were when we were youthful or is it or perception that changes?
I think it’s a bit of both.