Indonesian Earthquake
My friend Damien and his wife were on Gili Air when the recent earthquake occcured. Damien spoke on ABC Radio Hobart about the experiences they encountered.
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Coonamble
Coonamble is a small town in Western NSW, not far from Bourke, about 553km from Sydney. It took us about 7 hours to get there and 10 to return, due to public holiday traffic problems in the Blue Mountains.
The idea came from my friend Yvette, who thought it would be a good idea to go away for the weekend co-inciding with the annual Coonamble Rodeo & Campdraft (CR&C) which
sees hundreds of competitors saddling up for some of the best bucking bull and big bronc action around. As a predominantly wheat and cattle town where the locals still tie their horses up to the rails outside the Commercial Hotel, Coonamble throws out the welcome mat in a big way. When the last cowboy picks himself up and dusts himself off each day, every pub in town overflows with live entertainment provided by some of Australia’s top country music artists. The Sunday night Cabaret kicks off at 7.30pm at the RSL Club and will provide a great night of entertainment.
Okay, so they were bullshitting a bit, but Coonamble is not some yuppie location a short drive from Sydney. Coonamble is really on the edge of the outback. And I’d been really looking forward to the trip for several weeks. You can take the boy out of the country….
The drive there was hard, solid driving, taking us through towns such as Mudgee, Gulargambone and Gulgong, a town is famous because it used to feature on the ten dollar note. As many country towns look a bit “the same”,it was great to visit a really distinctive place. Along the way we also made quite a few “pit stops” including one where a couple of people by while having a wee on the roadside, prompting the use of the word “tumbleweed” to describe the action.
Shopping in Coonamble turned out to be extraordinarily good. As the weather was unexpectedly incelement, we had a great need for umbrellas and rain jackets, which we obtained from “Bag A Bargain”. I’d also forgotten socks and jocks so we also paid a visit to the two local opportunity shop, wher I picked up a great pair of jeans for $2, and one of the others also picked up some great boots.
The rodeo itself was great fun. We paid a brief visit to the Junior Rode on the Saturday (almost completely washed out) and then spent most of Sunday afternoon at the rodeo proper where highlights including steer wrestling and bareback riding.
We kept ourselves pretty well entertained with a karaoke night at SOTS – where we dominated the microphone – and for a band at the RSL. It’s worth noting that at the RSL they were extraordinarily serious about the issue of identification, demanding from one woman in her early 30s proof that she was over 18. Although flattering, it was also pretty stupid and, when raised with someone in a more official position at the club, the security person was put back in his place and we entered without too much grief.
Aside from that moment, and another occasion where a couple of local girls poked fun of one of us – who was admittedly inappropriately dressed for the rodeo – we all thought the town was incredibly friendly. We, of course, stuck out like dogs balls. The eclectic mix of English backpackers, yuppies and a couple of gay boys thrown in were clearly not locals. But we weren’t resented, as sometimes happens to outsiders in a small town, but genuinely welcomed.
That friendliness also seemed to be reflected in the community spirit we saw evident in fundraising for the Conn Family, a local family in which the parents and one child had died in a house fire a week earlier.
Coonamble is a long long way from Sydney. It’s on that broad flat black soil country – with occasional touches of red soil – that only comes from really getting away from the coast. But it was well worth the drive.
Muriel’s Wedding – The Musical
There was a moment toward the end of tonight’s show when a large tear welled up, and rolled down my right cheek. It’s also the bit in the movie that always upset me: the moment when the mother died. Or rather, committed suicide.
My mum didn’t commit suicide, but in many ways, she had lost the will to live. Though not by her daughters and me, my mum was similar to Betty Helsop: also called Betty, she was undervalued and often verbally and physically abused by her broader family. And when dad lost his battle with cancer in 1982, and when I went off to university in 1984, mum became increasingly unwell. Only a few days before her heart attack, she said she wanted to leave the house where she was living with her mother and brother.
That’s just one reason why the story of Muriel’s Wedding resonates so deeply with me, and why love the film so much, as I wrote a few years ago… And then, there’s the fact Porpoise Spit isn’t UNLIKE the town in which I grew up, I can almost name the characters from the movie as actual people from my hometown, and the fact that, like Muriel, I spent so much of my youth sitting alone in my room listening to ABBA songs.
When I lived in Porpoise Spit, I used to sit in my room for hours and listen to ABBA songs. But since I’ve met you and moved to Sydney, I haven’t listened to one Abba song. That’s because my life is as good as an Abba song. It’s as good as Dancing Queen.
“Are you really ready for it?, I asked my friend who I attended tonight’s show with. We knew the “black side” of the story of Muriel. Lines like the one spoken by Muriel to Rhonda on Hibiscus Island when she says:
“Do you ever think you’re nothing. Sometimes I think I’m nothing. Useless.”
…illustrate the pain she and many others have encountered.
It’s such a contrast to the often joyous feeling of both the movie and the musical.
It’s one of my all-time favourite movies. It was with a certain amount of trepidation that I went along to see the musical adaptation. But I’m really pleased to say the musical is absolutely true to the heart of the movie. There are just so many lines from the movie appearing in the musical, and I had to stop myself from reciting them out loud, as I’ll often do when I watch the movie at home.
But it’s not a simple re-telling of the movie: there are lots of modern touches (Muriel no longer works in a video shop, for example).
And then, of course, the wonderful music by Kate Miller-Heidke and her partner, with the song about arriving in Sydney being particularly memorable.
“When you get to Sydney, your life begins…”
(or words to that effect) they sing, with a chorus still stuck in my head a couple of hours later.
And then there’s ABBA. I’d heard, or assumed that like the Priscilla Musical, Bjorn and Benny had not agreed to license ABBA songs for “Muriel’s Wedding – The Musical”. In fact, quite the opposite is true, as there are five or six ABBA songs throughout the show, and ABBA themselves appear throughout the musical as a Bjorn Again-like “Greek chorus”, The only downside? “That’s not a fucking Swedish accent, not even close”, I whispered in my friend’s ear.
The songs are terrific, the plots great, the ensemble is wonderful (except maybe Gary Sweet who could NEVER come close to the role made famous by Bill Hunter), and the young woman who plays Muriel (Maggie McKenna) is exceptional, receiving a well-deserved standing ovation.
The movie, “Muriel’s Wedding – The Musical” was a rollercoaster of emotions from tears to laughing out loud moments. Though I couldn’t possibly afford to attend the musical as many times as I’ve watched the movie, I’d definitely go again.
“This is the ABBA musical that ‘Mamma Mia’ COULD have been”, I said to my friend, as we walked away tonight.
Travelling to Launceston
The road trip from Hobart to Launceston wasn’t nearly as long as I thought it would be. I’ve always had an idea the road trip from the south to the north in Tasmania might have been deceptively lengthy. In the end it took us about two and half hours from start to finish. In a small car we stuck to the speed limit, and because it wasn’t too lengthy, we didn’t stop along the way. The only time we stopped was to take some photographs of the landscape, and in particular, of the wonderful public art that you see from time to time.
Our trip was helped along by my role as “chief audio organiser”. In preparation for the trip, I’d downloaded some music and podcasts to my phone. Musically, I introduced Sue to Swedish jazz singer, Jonas Holmberg who I’ve previously blogged about. For a podcast, I chose Richard Fidler’s interview with Geraldine Doogue. Both of us are long-term fans of Geraldine and so I thought an hour with Gerry would be a good way to pass the time. It’s a really great insight into a legendary Australian broadcaster’s life and work. In particular, I was really fascinated at her candour about when she and her second husband left their respective partners to begin a new life together. I was also fascinated by the way in which she spoke about her Catholic beliefs.
Co-incidentally, we’re staying in what was a Presentation Sisters convent up until 2003. The woman on reception today told us that when it got down to just two sisters, they found they weren’t able to cope any more. The present day hotel accommodation was the result of a renovation in 2005. “I’ll bet the sisters didn’t have the modern bathrooms”, I joked when she told us the story. The accommodation is really nice. The bathrooms are modern. You can open the windows and enjoy the fresh air. And it’s quiet. Really quiet. Both Sue and I enjoyed a really wonderful sleep last night (lots of dreams) before waking reasonably late.
While Sue visited some family, I went off and spent the day at the Cataract Gorge.
Later this afternoon, we wandered around town, looking at the Boag’s Brewery (both concluding their mid 90s advertising campaigns were very sexist), at arts and crafts at The Mill, and thinking of where to have tonight’s evening mill. Last night we went to a pub and tonight we’re heading to a Thai place.
A key criteria for both of us is not so much the meal itself, but to get a sense of the people and place we’re visiting. So far, we’ve concluded Launceston is a little bit like Lismore, a little bit like Wagga, and other similarly-sized country towns we’ve come to know very well in our lives.
Relaxation, Recovery & Decoration
I was pleasantly surprised by a random woman’s comment as I strolled along Keen Street in Lismore today. With a huge ear to ear grin, she told me she loved the Christmas-themed stickers and adornments on my prosthetic leg. Most of these festive decorations were sourced from ‘two dollar shops,’ while I also repurposed some leftover gift tags from last year. The accompanying jingle bells has added a delightful soundtrack to my travels, though I’m sure it might getting annoying after a while.
This visit to Lismore holds a special significance as it marks my first return since my life-changing moment—the partial amputation of my lower right leg. Despite the challenges posed by COVID and the aftermath of a catastrophic flood during previous visits, this trip has been a unique experience for me.
My relationship with my family has deepened this year, evident in our daily check-in phone calls. Contrary to my expectations, the reunion hasn’t been as emotionally charged as anticipated; family dynamics remain the same,
While grappling with their own challenges related to aging, my family’s concern for my well-being has been stronger than for their own. They’ve shown particular interest (and confusion) regarding my dietary restrictions due to diabetes and about my ability to navigate independently. Despite their worries, I’ve seamlessly slipped back into the familiar routine.
Although I’ve always cherished my independence during visits home, visiting the CBD and venturing out at night, this time has seen a shift. Fearful of stumbling in the dark, I’ve limited my late-night excursions, usually wrapping up by 8 pm. Daytime hours, however, have been filled with joy as I explore the town, share lunches with friends, and contribute to various family chores.
Conversations with my prosthetist and physiotherapist ahead of this centered around the impact of heat on my prosthetic leg. This week, maximum temperatures have ranged from the mid20s to the early 30s. Their advice wascto remove it whenever possible, maintain regular bathing to prevent sweat buildup, and take it easy. Unlike past visits when work commitments persisted, this year has so far allowed me the luxury of relaxation and focused recovery. And fun with Christmas decorations.
Show Some Leg
Someone commented the other day, ‘You need to show some steel.’ They had noticed my sock almost completely covering the very visible steel part of my prosthetic leg. Even though my ‘leg’ is constructed from fiberglass, it could easily pass for a ‘real leg.’
I was sharing with them the significant change that has taken place in the last month regarding my public visibility as someone with a disability. When I used to get around in a wheelchair, with or without the prosthetic leg, it was immediately obvious to passersby that I had specific accessibility requirements. People would make space for me on the street and in public transport.
Of course, there have been shops and situations that remained challenging to navigate, and times when people didn’t notice my situation and got in the way. Nevertheless, overall, things were pretty good.
However, as I’ve begun to walk with my prosthetic leg, I’ve started to become somewhat ‘invisible’ to passersby. I’m now at the same height as most people, and there’s been no reason for them to look down, notice my leg, and recognize my limited mobility.
It’s a bittersweet feeling because it signifies progress in my rehabilitation process, but it also highlights my ongoing needs. When I’m out in public, I walk slowly and deliberately due to the risk of falling over. I’m particularly concerned about children and dogs, as they often run about without considering my situation. Additionally, people walking while engrossed in their mobile phones rarely notice others who might require assistance until the last minute.
A few days ago, I was on a bus with an elderly couple, and all three of us needed walking assistance. Unfortunately, no one noticed our needs because they were immersed in their phones.
I’m just as guilty as the next person for spending too much time on my mobile device. But one crucial lesson I’ve learned in the past few months is the importance of paying attention to the world around you, both for your benefit and that of others.
That’s why I’ve started to lower my sock a bit further to ensure that the cold, hard steel of my leg remains visible while I still have these mobility needs.
