“There was a lot more hair than I thought there was going to be”, the hairdresser said to me today, as she finished up my haircut. As someone with very little hair on my head, I guess this came as a surprise to her, as large clumps of hair fell to the ground.
Normally, I’d pop into one of the salons close to home, and the job (a simple clipper cut) is over and done within about ten minutes. But this cut took a little longer.
I have a vague recollection of visiting her salon previously, though it’s been quite some time. That hers was predominantly a female hair dressing salon, meant she seemed to take a little extra time and care with me. I also asked for a beard-trim.
I’ve been home in Lismore for almost two weeks. Having come home without packing my beard-trimmer, my appearance has been starting to look a bit “scrappy”. And so when I finished work today, and wandered home, I looked in earnest for a walk-in hairdresser.
One of the things that quite surprised me today was the seemingly large number of hair dressing salons to be found in the central business district of Lismore, especially in the laneways and arcades.
And as I wandered around looking for somewhere, I also took a bit of time to look at some of the laneway art. Even though I’ve blogged about it previously, and I thought I’d seen ALL of the laneway art of Lismore, I made a few new discoveries today.
“Reasons To Be Cheeful (Part Three)” was a song by 1970s/1980s performer, Ian Dury (And The Blockheads). He had a bunch of novelty/punk songs that I remember from my teenage years, including the songs, “I Want To Be Straight”, “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick” and this song. Seeing this today made me smile.The Dirty Laundry Project is about eliminating domestic violence.I have no idea who this is, or who the artist is, but it made me smile.And of course, Lismore also has a “Rainbow Crossing”. Haircut and beard-trip complete!
Someone has erected a “shrine” to Michael Jackson on Crown Street, Surry Hills. I noticed it this afternoon after enjoying a bowl of my favourite soup – pea and ham – at nearby Cossie’s Cafe. I almost walked past it, as a matter of fact, until it genuinely caught the corner of my eye, and that’s when I stopped to take a photograph. On closer inspection, you’ll see there’s a laminated pencil drawing, a couple of candles in a bowl, flowers and a Bible.
Michael Jackson shrine on Crown Street, Surry Hills
I think it’s a fascinating response to what’s happened. And obviously the person who erected this shrine obviously feels very strongly and deeply. Or maybe it’s a stunt by The Chaser with a hidden camera to see who would respond?
The papers are full of Michael Jackson today, of course. I skipped over most of the coverage as I’d experienced much of the unfolding story through my work yesterday. But it’s Saturday evening in Australia, and all of the television news services are still in rolling coverage mode.
I took this photograph of MIchael Jackson and Bubbles by Jeff Koons on display at Versailles during my trip to France last year.
And what occurs to me at this stage is that you just know it’s not over yet. You just know there’s going to be some scandal associated with the death. You just know the funeral or handling of the body is going to be stuffed up in some way. And you just know there’s going to a messy court case about something. And how long until we see “Michael Jackson – The Tele-movie”?
I woke in the middle of the night to the 1980s hit song “Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This), and for a moment, I wondered if Annie Lennox was appearing on stage at nearby Moore Park for the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras.
I live close enough to the area to be able to listen in to some of the major events. A couple of weeks ago I heard most of the concert by Pink, and before that it was Paul McCartney. Years ago I remember a concert by Michael Jackson where it was loud and clear enough to feel like he was performing on my balcony.
I don’t THINK she appeared on stage last night, but you never know.
My early morning wake up followed a few hours of intense sleep after marching in the Mardi Gras parade.
Less than a year since my lower right limb amputation, this has been something I’ve been planning for and working up to for months. As I’ve written here previously, my phsyiotherapist thought it was within my capacity, and has been helping with advice since the start of the year.
We’ve also done two actual training sessions on the parade route. The training sessions were great, but they didn’t prepare me fully for the intensity of marching last night. The physical exhaustion was one thing, but so too was the stimulation of marching in front of several hundred thousand people.
Throughout the evening I also received supportive messages from friends, saying how proud they were of me being able to participate. This made me cry a little bit, as I thought about where I was, and where I am now.
Along the parade route, colleagues were always checking in with me to make sure I was okay, that I wasn’t about to collapse from exhaustion. This meant so much to me.
Thankfully, I didnt collapse from exhaustion. But fatigue was an issue, and by the end I was pretty exhausted.
I started near the front of our marching group, but ended the parade at the back, alongside someone participating in a wheelchair. What brought me to the back was a stop at the half-way point when I saw a friend in the crowd and went over to hug her.
Along the way lots of people in the crowd wanted to high-five me, but I had to politely say no. It wasn’t a fear of COVID or anything like that, it was more the fear of an uneven roadway, and a high-five possibly resulting in me falling over.
The other unexpected thing was having to keep an eye on the people marching/dancing in front of me. Due to the stop-start nature of the parade, there were times when they started marching/dancing backwards. There were a couple of close-calls.
But I made it, and we then headed off to the pub for a beer.
Having touch of day glo makeup applied.
On the way to the pub, I did a brief cross to ABC Radio’s coverage of Mardi Gras. Here’s the audio/transcript.
Suzanne : You’re listening to Nightlife with Suzanne Hill on ABC radio and on the ABC Listen app. Heading back to the Mardi Gras parade. Now the ABC’s James O’Brien, one of my colleagues has been on the ABC float and joins me now. Hey, James.
James : Is is and I’m not sure if you didn’t hear much noise in the background, but I’m right at the end of the parade route.
Suzanne: Okay, is this right? You’ve actually headed off for a beer?
James: Maybe, maybe, maybe. Look at the last few hours I think a beer is actually going to be something that’s going to be welcomed by a lot of us.
Suzanne: Well tell us why the ABC flight had to offer this year.
James: So we had, we did a piece to the song by Daft Punk, “All Around The World. And it’s very much about the ABC broadcasting around the world and all those sorts of things. We had about 60 people marching. We had lots of laser lights, and we had lots of dayglo makeup and all of those sorts of thing. Probably the best known person on our float was Nate Byrne from the Breakfast Show and he was fantastic. He gave us a good forecast about whether or not we could expect rain yesterday when a briefing so that was almost one, but mostly it was just ordinary staff from all over New South Wales. There was quite a contingent from ABC Radio Newcastle, in fact. And then obviously, some people will Sydney and other parts and Brisbane and other parts of the countryside.
Suzanne: James it’s been a big year for you and walking in the parade has turned out to be quite a feat that you wouldn’t have been expecting this time a year ago. Tell us what happened?
James: So halfway through last year, I lost the lower half of my right leg. So I’m now walking with a prosthetic limb. I was in a wheelchair for a few months. I was in hospital for a few months. And so maybe late last year, I said to my physiotherapist, I said, do you think it’s reasonable that I could match in Mardi Gras? And she said, How long is it? And I told her to 1.7 kilometres? And she said yeah, that’s probably reasonable. Um, so over the last couple of months, we’ve been seeing, building up strength and so on. So that in fact, I could walk out tonight in the Mardi Gras with a prosthetic limb.
Suzanne: And how tiring has there been James now? I mean, you said you were and you definitely needed to head off for a beer. Was it was a challenging?
James: Look, it was it was we sort of started up the front and eventually ended up at the back. It was sometimes a little bit hard to keep up with everyone else. So one of the issues too, is that people kind of were walking backwards and just checking on me. Are you okay? Yeah, just keep walking. Keep walking in. I’m fine. So yeah, that was the one of the challenging things. Look, the other thing too, is the challenge of actually trying to walk and dance and do hand movements. So the choreography, but I think that might have been a challenge even before.
Suzanne: Yeah, okay, but did you master a few dance moves?
James: Yeah, not too bad. Yeah. And we had lots of fun dancing and participating beforehand. Along with myself with the prosthetic limb, we also had another staff member who has mobility needs, so she walked through his crutches. And we also had someone who is in a wheelchair, so it was really great thing to say that, you know, just because you have a physical disability doesn’t mean you can’t participate in Mardi Gras. And that’s what I was really mad about doing tonight. I got a couple of text messages from friends and it might make me cry, but they were so proud of you know, yeah. And well, somewhere I am. So that was really, really interesting.
Suzanne: James just finally, did you actually deck the leg out? Did you give it in some special costume?
James: Oh, it’s got a few little rainbow flags.
Suzanne: James, good to talk to you. You go off and enjoy that beer.
All in all, I probably would have enjoyed it more without having the fear of falling over, but it was a great thing to do. It was heaps of fun, and I felt so incredibly supported by friends, colleagues and family.
For the last two or three years in the run up to Christmas one of my colleagues has been in the habit of bringing in some “lollies” as a gift to the workplace.
Snakes. Bananas. Teeth. Bullets. You know the stuff I mean? The stuff we all grew up with and love. Even butter-scotch which is a particular favourite of mine.
He places them on the partition above his workplace in some “party bowls”.
Workplace Sweets
It’s a lovely thought on his part, and we all think it’s terrific that he does it. But oh my, it’s such a temptation for those of us with a sweet tooth!
There must have been eight or nine occasions today when I needed to go to his desk to ask about something. “How are you going? Is everything okay? Shall I check back in half an hour?”, I found myself asking, while sneakily grabbing another sweet (or two).
Just yesterday, another colleague who I haven’t seen for a while commented on how much weight I’ve lost this year. “I can’t believe it’s as simple as regular exercise and eating properly. It’s crazy! I always thought it was glandular!”, I told him, adding that I’m sure there’s room on the market for another weight-loss book based on my experience this year.
But with the sweets on my colleague’s desk, I fear I’m on the verge of a return to being overweight. Nooooo!
Tomorrow, I’m going to have a lollie-free day, I swear.
And next year, he’s moving to an earlier shift, so hopefully that might help as well.
To be honest, I’m feeling a little frazzled (is that a word?) about the spiderman incident. I don’t feel violated or anything, but I do feel a little uncomfortable. As well as the comments, I’ve received quite a few emails from people either offering sympathy or relating similar stories of having slept through similar incidents. And last night, I also had a few phone calls from people just to say “are you okay?”, which was really lovely.
Otherwise it’s been a nice day. I went out for lunch today with a former colleague who has also spent a few months travelling overseas. “We went to Mykonos and I thought of you”, he told me. We laughed when be both realised it was for different reasons. I thought it was the poof thing, whereas he meant it was for “Mamma Mia” (the movie).
And then tonight, I caught up with John and Graeme, as per usual for Wednesday night drinks.
For over three decades, I have made a living asking the questions. As a radio broadcaster and manager, I prided myself on having the “full picture.” I believed I understood the varieties of the human condition, and I certainly considered myself a “good ally” to the disability community. I did lots of interviews, I helped develop content, I used the correct terminology, and I slept well believing I was on the “right side of history”.
Then, two years ago, the script changed.
Becoming a lower-limb amputee didn’t just alter how I navigate the physical world. It exposed my own profound blind spots. In some ways, it shattered the illusion of my allyship and replaced it with a stark reality that no amount of research could have prepared me for.
Before, when I walked into a studio or a meeting room, my authority was taken as read. But as I returned to work, I started to find my capability was being questioned or debated before I’ve even reached the microphone.
But today, on International Day of People with Disability (IDPWD), I am reminded that my learning curve has only just begun.
I am taking part in a panel discussion here at work at today, sitting alongside colleagues who live with a range of different disabilities. Listening to their stories, I know my experience—visible, physical, obvious—is just one fragment of a much larger picture.
I have had to learn that disability is not a monolith.
There are 5.5 million Australians living with disability. That is more than 1 in 5 of us. But if you are picturing a wheelchair, you are missing the vast majority of the story.
90% of disabilities are invisible. They are neurodivergence, chronic pain, sensory impairments, and psychosocial conditions.
It is not just about birth. While many disabilities are congenital, the majority are acquired. It is the only minority group that anyone can join at any moment—a car accident, a stroke, a fall, or simply the process of ageing.
By treating this as a “niche” issue in our newsrooms, we are ignoring 20 per cent of our audience. We are missing stories of innovation, resilience, and systemic failure because we are too busy looking for tragedy. Or “inspiration porn”, as disability advocate Stella Young oce described it. referring to stories about people with disability who are “amazing”.
Do you need to have a disability to report on it well?
No. You don’t.
You don’t need to be an amputee to understand the importance of a ramp, just as you don’t need to be a politician to report on parliament. Good journalism is about empathy, rigour, and curiosity, not just lived experience.
But let me tell you: it helps.
Having lived experience acts as a filter. It helps you distinguish between a “heartwarming” fluff piece and a story about systemic neglect. It stops you from asking “What happened to you?” and starts you asking “Why isn’t this building accessible?” It shifts the focus from pity to rights.
So, as I join this panel later today, I have rewritten my own editorial guidelines.
If you are an able-bodied journalist, your job today is to listen—really listen—without the filter of sympathy. And if you live with disability, speak up. Your perspective is not a “special interest”; it is the vital, missing piece of the national conversation.
For me, and others, this is where the story begins.
Just a brief visit this time, as she has work commitments today and tomorrow.
It’s hard to believe we’ve known each other for over thirty years.
In fact, we were discussing tonight where we have chosen to live: she in Melbourne, me in Sydney.
“I’ve been here over fifteen years”, I told her, adding, “I’ve almost lived in Sydney longer than Lismore” (my home town).
For Sue, she’s been in Melbourne “longer than any other place I’ve lived”, she added.
It’s a strange state of affairs, in some ways.
We’re both from the country and the “country” makes up an important part of our identities and yet, we’ve both been living in the city (different cities) for many years, and we’ve both become “city folk” in lots of ways.
Sue is in Sydney for work today and tomorrow, and is staying with me tonight. I’m going to Melbourne in a few weeks time for work and will stay with her also. At last we have this great symmetry in our working lives that involves regular visits to the others’ city.
Tonight we had a bite to eat at nearby Il Bareto, a great little Italian place. Sue had the home made gnocchi, I had the pressed veal. Great food.
And then we came home ate chocolate, chatted, and eventually watched “60 minute makeover”. Although I’d heard about it, I’ve never seen it before.
As the name implies, it’s a house renovation program done in the space of sixty minutes.
Tonight’s program was a renovation for a couple of gay guys who loved karaoke and show tunes. Groan.
As Yani from Yaniism noted on Twitter it was the “best. worst. episode. ever”.
