Often when you visit Sculpture By The Sea it’s overly crowded. There’s often too many people competing for space with grumpy locals who want to go about their regular exercise along the wonderful coastal walk between Bondi and Tamarama. I’ve tried going super-early. I’ve also been there just before lunch when the crowds seem to be at their peak. But this time around, I chose late on a Sunday afternoon. The temperature was mild, the light a little more subdued, as were the crowds. These are some of my favourites from this year’s exhibition.
As it was my birthday yesterday, Sue bought us dinner at Bondi Trattoria. An awesome way to end the weekend.
“What do I need to prepare for lunch at work?” was the thought going through my mind the other night, as I walked around the supermarket. After three years of mostly working from home, I’m back in the office full-time for the next month or so.
As I walked up and down the aisles, I was looking for some meals I could easily heat or “assemble”. I was keen to avoid getting back into the routine of spending a lot of money every day on coffee and takeaway meals. Both are easy routines to fall back into.
IGA Supermarket at Newtown, Sydney
The other thing that’s concerned me about returning to the office is my increasing “social exhaustion”. I’d never heard the phrase “social exhaustion” until recently, as I sought solutions to prevent and recover from the “tiredness” I often feel after face-to-face catchups.
By nature, I’m an “introvert”, which I “discovered” about twenty years ago when I did one of those “Myers-Briggs” tests. It’s been very useful in my career to understand that extroverts usually like to “talk things through”, and introverts like to absorb the information and then “think it through themselves”. A total generalisation, of course, but still pretty relevant.
When we did the tests, I remember a significant number of senior managers I worked with at the time were also “introverts”.
How can that be, we all wondered, how can people working in radio be introverts? We concluded that it was because people who work in radio are generally sitting in a room by themselves speaking to just one person, on the telephone or face to face, unlike actors or people on television who are more inclined to “perform”.
The learning we all took away was that we had to work hard on our social interactions, to overcome our inherent introverted nature. And that’s what I’ve done throughout my career.
But after a long period of time living alone, and the last three years working alone, I’ve realised lately I’m out of practice.
Of course, “social exhaustion” pre-dated COVID-19, but there’s a lot of evidence it’s worsened during the pandemic, according to lots of articles I’ve read.
The advice I’ve read has concentrated on the need to “prepare” for social interactions. You need to play out some of the conversations and scenarios beforehand, and afterwards, you need to make a moment to “recover”.
After two days in the office, I’m still coming home and feeling quite tired. But I’m also “gearing up” for the next few weeks by accepting lots of invitations.
Mardi Gras and World Pride were a good start to things. And then on Saturday night, I caught up with Matthew (who reads this blog) and his partner. A lovely evening, Matthew. Great to meet Alex, and catch up for the first time in ages!! I’ve accepted a dinner date for Wednesday night. And I’m also going along to the opening night of the Sydney Writers Festival, an event that’s likely to involve lots of standing around and small talk.
Though I realise this blog can sometimes seem like an endless round of social interactions, most nights I’m sitting at home by myself, listening to music.
Maybe this will be the start of the next phase of my life? Getting out and about again?
“So do you think all the Eurovision Parties in Sydney will always be shit, or do you think they’ll ever get better?”, a friend of mine asked me as we shared a drink last night. She’s from England, she’s attended Eurovision, and for the last few years she’s been living in Sydney. That’s how we met, actually.
“I think the problem is that in Australia we’ve fallen for the UK-mindset about Eurovision. That it’s camp, it’s trashy, it’s tragic, and it’s terrible”, I told her. In many respects, I think the media coverage of Eurovision treats the contest as a bit of a joke. It’s ABBA. It’s Disco Balls. It’s Mardi Gras. It’s all of that “stuff” you laugh at if you want to re-inforce an insular world-view.
Having been to a few of the bigger parties in Sydney over the last few years, I’ve yet to find one that takes the contest seriously. A contest where they don’t rely on the usual cliches about tacky costumes, bad English, and so-called “voting blocks”. The reality of this year’s contest is that Eurovision is generally speaking very slick, sophisticated, and definitely not the “amateur hour” that’s it’s often portrayed to be.
This is particularly the case with this year’s contest hosted by Petra Mede, who I think should be made the permanent host of Eurovision. She’s such a class act. She delivers the script beautifully, but then she can also deliver a wonderful dead-pan remark right off the cuff. For example, when one of the country officials was delivering the votes and was gushing about how good the contest was, she simply said “Oh that’s nice”. And when it was clear next year’s contest would be held in Denmark, she simply said “That’s twenty minutes down the road”.
One of the great highlights of this year’s concert was the interval act. Through a song and dance number, Petra sought to explain Sweden to the rest of the world. Of course, there were lots of jokes about ABBA, IKEA, Vikings, The Muppet Chef (and so on), but there were also some very funny jokes which probably made little sense outside of Scandinavia. The recycling, the queues, not talking on public transport, meatballs “seasoned with a bit of horse”. The bit about milk? It’s because something like 60% of the Swedish population is lactose intolerant, the highest level in the world, apparently. I’ve watched the clip several times now, and every time I watch it, I pick up a new line. Fantastic stuff, which showed the Swedes could laugh at themselves with sophistication.
The last time I really enjoyed an interval act was when Norway hosted the contest and they staged an international flash mob. In stark contrast to the humour of Petra’s half-time act, this was a beautifully touching moment about Europe coming together in song.
I eschewed the ritual of watching the SBS delayed Sunday night telecast of the Eurovision Song Contest this year and instead got up early to watch the contest live. As the votes from the different countries coming through were beginning to indicate Denmark was probably going to win I faced the dilemma: I couldn’t actually remember the song. In contrast, there were lovely sweet songs like “Tomorrow” by Gianluca Bezzina from Malta and “Love Kills” by Roberto Bellarosa from Belgium; the vocally amazing performance of “It’s My Life” by Romanian counter-tenor, Cezar; and the pop protest, “Marry Me” by Krista Sigfrieds from Finland. Despite the earlier memory-loss, I finally remembered the winning song. It’s quite good, though I doubt it will go down in history as one of the great moments of Eurovision.
Having watched it earlier in the morning, I was able to spend my Sunday in a fairly normal way. I didn’t have to avoid the media all day for spoilers and I didn’t have to sit up until nearly mid-night to find out the results. Personally, I would love to see SBS do what they’ve done with the Academy Awards, The Grammys and so on, and run it live, and then replay it later at night. The media world has changed, and the idea of people having to wait twelve hours to know the results is all a bit silly. They could run the version without commentary at 5am, and then have Sam and Julia on, as per usual on Sunday night. I doubt it would have much of an impact on night-time viewing figures.
Executive Suite At the age of forty, I’ve recently started wearing a suit to work. Working in a “creative industry”, I’ve always tended to dress for comfort. Even over the last couple of years working in management, I’ve tended to dress nicely, but never regularly wearing a suit.
And then a few months ago, I had to wear a suit to work one day. The result was a range of really positive comments of how good I looked, how much it made me “look the part”, and how it made me look thinner. And so I’ve been doing it ever since.
But rather than spend a fortune on new shirts and ties, I went to a fantastic second hand store on the corner of Broadway and Glebe Point Road and bought a whole bunch of both for a total of less than $20. Good value, eh? Even better value than the famous Marj Simpson Chanel suit. The woman behind the counter had also told a colleague another woman had recently bought a whole new wardrobe for work for a total of less than $250. How many other middle managers have done the same?
Despite the second hand clothing, which I’ve openly discussed with some colleagues, people DO tend to take me a little more seriously and people DO tend to respond more favourably to what I have to say. Odd, isn’t it?
This photograph of me was snapped the other day, part of a much larger photograph taken at Parramatta Westfield. I kinda like it because it isn’t posed, it’s quite natural, and I guess for the first time it gave me a chance to see what I look like in the workplace now.
“If you’re in the ABBA Museum and you’re standing near the Ring Ring exhibit, you should answer the phone, as it’s probably going to be Frida” we were told by Ingmarie Halling from the ABBA Museum, soon to open in Stockholm. “And if you see the piano suddenly playing, it’s gonna be Benny doing it remotely”, she added.
The telephone call from Frida (or indeed any member of ABBA, as “they all have the number”, we were told) was inspired by a John Lennon exhibition in New York. When Frida heard that Yoko Ono would sometimes call the telephone there and speak to people randomly, she replied instantly that she would love to do that also.
That, and the bit about Benny playing the piano remotely is interesting for two reasons. One – that’s it the kind of thing now possible because of modern technology. Two – that it’s a sign of “buy in” by the members of ABBA who, seemingly, have been somewhat reluctant to recognise their musical legacy.
The appearance by Ingmarie was the most interesting and engaging part of the second (and main day) of the International ABBA Day I attended in Roosendaal. That, and the screening of a number of recent television appearances by ABBA members, notably one from Finnish TV where Bjorn and Benny were asked individually to describe the other. Bjorn has a good sense of humour, but never shows it much, according to Benny. They meet weekly, we were told, mostly to discuss business activities, such as licensing of the songs for movies, but not much outside of that.
These were the things which interested me most. I have almost no interest in collecting memorabilia, a major focus for the day. As I walked into the room the first thing I noticed was the bar, and then the big screen, and then as I looked down from the screen, there were “stalls” with people selling lots of ABBA material – DVDs, vinyl, rare recordings. A flea market, you might say. “Unless there’s some amazing new recording, I’m not really interested in collecting an obscure Japanese 7” pressing of a song I already have”, I told a couple of people.
Thus, we didn’t really stay all that long during the day. We were there for two or three hours to watch some of videos, hear the talk by Ingmarie, and to chat with other fans from around the world. For me, meeting those other fans was the main reason why I wanted to go. The day was informal enough so that I had sufficient time to do that in a meaningful way.
Anita and Helga who run the International Fan Club
After a late afternoon meal, we were back at 7.00pm sharp for “The Video”. It’s become a regular part of the International ABBA Day over the years for a compilation video to be played at the start of the Saturday night disco. Of the few I’ve seen, I’ve thought they were always very good. But this year, a number of people commented to me they thought the video was a little disappointing. Maybe the anticipation of it was too much, but I was inclined to agree, finding the listing of all of ABBA’s stage performances by city and date overlaid over a lot of live footage I’ve seen many times a little disappointing.
I was also a little disappointed by the number of rare recordings played on Saturday night, both at the disco venue, and at the after-party. “Put On Your White Sombrero” is a shit record, I said to a couple of people. “It was never released by ABBA because they didn’t think it was up to scratch and yet I’ve heard it three times this weekend”, I added.
Dancing QueensBoot Scootin’ ABBA Fan
I think I understand the “group dynamic” amongst ABBA fans going on with all of the rare material being played. I think it’s about sharing something hard core fans have in common, which doesn’t involve the rest of the population who “like”, but who don’t “love” ABBA in the way people attending this event do. I also think there’s probably an issue with many people having heard the most well known tracks many, many times. That said, it sometimes seems like there’s an aversion to playing the big ABBA hits (or even good B-sides and album tracks) at some of the fan events. Personally, I would prefer to hear and dance to fully-formed, rounded great songs than incomplete songs discarded by ABBA as not worthy of release.
That said, I spent a fair bit of time on the dance floor, and like the young girl in “Dancing Queen” found I was having the time of my life.
That, and chatting to people. One of the things I discovered was that my blog post yesterday where I talked about being shy, and how daunting it can be at events like this to meet people, really touched a lot of people. In addition to the number of people who came up to me, concerned, asking if I was okay, a couple of others told me they felt the same, and they were pleased I’d written about it. My advice is that if you feel similarly shy in large groups, it’s important to make contact with people ahead of the event so you have some people you can feel comfortable with. I don’t mean that in any kind of mercenary way, it’s just a recognition that some people feel more comfortable in smaller groups than larger, and that if you have a smaller group within that larger group, you might find it a little easier.
After the main event, we headed into town for the “After Party” which was at the same venue as the night previously. This time around the bar was initially packed more heavily with “locals”, some of whom really got into the swing of things, while others left soon after we arrived, possibly finding themselves a little overwhelmed by hearing the B-sides and rarities, and not the more well-known ABBA hits.
The bar staff at the “After Party” venue were terrific. In particular, we got chatting with a young guy who had worked the night before but who was there the following night just to enjoy himself. “The ABBA Weekend”, he told us “is a great thing for Roosendaal, having so many people come from all parts of the world.” I mentioned to him my theory that, although it seems crazy on the surface to have this day in a small town in The Netherlands, it actually works. “If it was in Stockholm or London or Amsterdam, people would break up at the end of the night and go their separate ways, whereas here everyone sticks together”, I told him.
Walpole, Western Australia Walpole is a small community of about 300 people located about 120km west of Albany on the south coast of Western Australia.
The town was originally established in the early 1930’s as a group settlement for farmers, with timber milling developing soon after, the region is most famous for the Giant Red and Yellow Tingle Trees, many over 400 years old.
The reason for my visit was the arrival of radio in Walpole. Yes, Walpole was a radio blackspot, that meant most people could not actually hear any radio stations in the town. Thanks to a grant from the South West Development Commission, the local shire council was able to fund the establishment of a transmission facility to rebroadcast Local Radio, Radio National and a commercial service. Unlike the other two, we actually came to town to celebrate this! About 120 people (out of the town’s population of around 300) came to celebrate with us, which was fabulous.
It also gave me the opportunity to do some sight-seeing. It’s the most beautiful part of Western Australia I’ve seen so far. This morning, we went on a wilderness tour along the Walpole River which feeds into Walpole Inlet which in turn flows into the larger, Nornalup Inlet before flowing through the mouth and into the Southern Ocean. The Walpole Inlet is a great favourite area for fishing and canoeing. The Deep River (the most pristine river in Australia) feeds directly into the Nornalup River. The tour was fantastic, with a great guide, culminating in a walk through heathland to the Southern Ocean.
I also paid a visit to Walpole’s most important tourist attraction, located about 20km away. The Valley of the Giants has long been one of the area’s most popular tourist destinations. This famous area, now part of Walpole-Nornalup National Park, gets its name from the large red tingle trees that are found there. It is the easternmost occurrence of this forest type, which is only found within 15 kilometres of Walpole. The boardwalk meanders around and sometimes through the old trees. It is a peaceful experience with quiet spots to sit and reflect on the special nature of the tingle forest. As well as giving visitors a different perspective on the shapes, sounds and movement of the forest, the boardwalk is designed to protect the tingle trees from the damaging impact of large numbers of visitors. It is thought that before this measure was taken, some trees were in rapid decline as a result of compaction of the soil around their root systems caused by vehicles and humans.
On undertaking the walk, I was almost lost for word. In addition to the sheer beauty of the trees, there is the added factor of a swaying structure. At times I felt a little scared, but never really petrified! It was a heart-stopping moment… quite literally… as someone I know had a mini-heart attack doing the walk. If you’re at all scared of heights, avoid the walk as you will feel scared… but if you’re not, it’s one of life’s great moments that should not be avoided.
I’m not one to “name drop”, but I will on this occasion. I smiled in recognition as former NSW Premier, Bob Carr and his wife Helena arrived at the Verona, today. “Hello Mr Carr”, I said, and we shook hands. I’m not 100% sure that he remembered my name, but he certainly remembered what I did for a living.
“How’s retirement?” I asked him, noticing that he was dressed very casually in a style my friend, Damien, later remarked looked like he was visiting a country electorate to make an announcement about drought funding. “Just great”, he told me, “Helena just noted that last year we went overseas seven times”.
Although retired, to my mind, Carr remains a political animal through and through, and that’s why it didn’t surprise me that he and Helena, like us, were there to see “The Last King Of Scotland”, the movie about Idi Amin. As I walked up the stairs, I noticed former Liberal advisor and spin doctor, Ian Kortlang was there too. Bob gave Ian a cheery hello, before moving on to say hello to some other people he obviously knew from his time in politics.
“It’s an interesting crowd. Not just the media. Aside from the media, who’s in the crowd?”, Damien asked me. “I don’t know”, I confessed, confused about the mixed group of people who’d assembled to see the movie. Young, old, gay, straight, black, white, asian. It was a mixed crowd who’d assembled to see a movie I’d only just heard about thanks to the Golden Clobe Awards. Clearly, it was a crowd interested in politics. I mean, why else, would you go to see a movie about Idi Amin. Neither Damien nor I had much idea about the film’s plot, although Damo had done a little research to understand more about the film’s title.
The title, “The Last King Of Scotland” has a dual role in this film, both describing the character of Nicholas Garrigan, the younger doctor who through chance ended up as a senior advisor to Idi Amin, and in describing Amin’s own interest in Scotland. Although I was alive during the reign of Idi Amin, I didn’t know about his interest in Scotland, manifest in the naming of his children and in the reasons why his troops wore kilts (for example) and why the young doctor in this film was welcomed so warmly by Amin. “If I wasn’t Ugandan, I’d be Scottish”, Amin declares.
The role of Nicholas, played James McAvoy (aka Spunky Nicholas) is a character I both liked and disliked. The film explains why he was genuinely seduced by Amin, both on a personal and intellectual level. however, there were occasions where his innocence was charming, and occasions where it was frustrating. How could he honestly not know what was going on? Well, he did, but he either chose to ignore it for the greater good, or he ignored it for his own self-preservation.
The actor who played Amin, Forrest Whittaker, was totally convincing. He effectively conveys the dual nature of Amin, as both beguilling and evil. His characterisation shows both why those around him, and the international media, were beguiled by Amin, but also the evil-ness, brought about it seems, through a paranoia or something like that. I have to admit though, that although he’s played many roles since, on occasion I kept remembering him as Jody from The Crying Game.
The only actor whose role I thought was disappointing was Gillian Anderson – Agent Scully – who added little to the film, except perhaps as a love interest. I didn’t even think her role as “conscience” for Nicholas was particularly effective, since he revealed himself to have that conscience.
The story of Nicholas is just amazing, the idea that a young Scottish doctor could end up so close to Amin, though later research has revealed the character of Nicholas is the composite of several real-life characters. Nonetheless, it’s a great story.
The film is genuinely funny, and at one point I found myself, uncomfortably thinking, “I shouldn’t be laughing at this”. The humour, however, is more than offset by the graphic violence. There was one occasion, for example, when I had to turn my head from the screen. The woman next to me had done the same, and later, my friend Damien had confessed that he’d avoided the screen during the scene also.
So in all, it provides, I think a good understanding of why Amin came to power, remained in power, and why he was so evil.
On an entirely different level, through the music and the landscape, the film also reveals a little about the people of Uganda. In common with Hotel Rwanda, this film makes you think about the people who were, themselves, victims of the colonial era. Looking for a solution to their economic woes, brought about through colonisation, it’s no wonder they looked to Amin. The film reveals him as a very seductive character, sprouting the nationalist rhetoric they obviously wanted to hear. But as the character played by Gillian Anderson observes, to the optimistic Nicholas, “They said the same about Obote” (Amin’s predecessor). Also in common with Hotel Rwanda, the film remins us about how uninmportant, tragically, Africa remained on the world stage. “You deserve to die”, someone tells Nicholas, “But go and tell the world about Amin, because they will believe you, because you are a white man”.
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Best wishes for yesterday. Sadly so many public events become victims of their own success, such as our White Night and your illumination festival.
Best wishes for yesterday. Sadly so many public events become victims of their own success, such as our White Night and your illumination festival.
Thanks Andrew.