“How do I sign out? I’ve never done that before”, I heard one woman ask the barman at a Lismore pub today. Incorrectly he told her “Don’t worry, it just happens automatically”. While that may be the case in other states, that’s not the case in NSW. It’s a pain in the arse, to be honest. Surely if I’ve signed in to another venue, I’m no longer at the previous one? Even if we live in a “digital age”, life is still quite linear. Maybe he didn’t know himself? Or maybe he just wanted her to leave?
A few seconds later a couple of blokes appeared at the bar and were ready to order some drinks. “Have you signed in?, they were asked, to which they replied, “No, we didn’t know you had to”. “And you have to wear masks except when you’re drinking”, they were further told. The two blokes then asked if the pub had any masks. When they were told they did, but they would each cost $1, they reluctantly agreed to “buy one between them”. There was a follow-up question about whether or not the mask came with a complimentary soft-drink.
Since I’ve been home I’ve also heard a bloke tell his elderly mate at the Worker’s Club on Friday night, “There’s nothing to worry about, it’s just the flu”. Despite overhearing such ignorance, it was a worthwhile trip to the club, as I won TWO meat trays. This should look after the family for a few weeks!
Meat tray raffles at the Lismore Worker’s Club.
Having spent yesterday without leaving the house (I’m still experiencing a bit of post-surgery pain(, I thought it was time to go for a bit of exercise (and a glass of wine at the pub), which took me through North Lismore, South Lismore and into Lismore’s CBD.
As you might expect for Boxing Day, things were reasonably quiet around town. Even for a Sunday it was pretty quiet. But hopefully you enjoyed these three short videos which give you an insight into life here.
One of the interesting trivia facts about Lismore is that it has a LOT of roundabouts, generally with trees/plants in the middle, and this year, generally with Christmas decorations.
Roundabout at the corner of Bridge and Terania in North Lismore.I always thought the pine tree in Lismore was a bit odd, due to the lean. Only discovered this week Cook Pines lean toward the equator. That explains it.
Tomorrow, a friend and I are heading out to Nimbin to visit friends who live out there. Looking forward to it very much, and, of course, there’ll be stories and photographs. My first visit to Nimbin in about two years.
A week or so ago, I asked a friend for advice about where I should take Robert and Sandra for dinner. Sandra and Robert are visiting from Sweden at the moment, and so I wanted to show them somewhere a little funky, a little groovy, but with excellent food and wine, as that’s something they both really enjoy. My friend was quite emphatic that we should go to “Nomad” in Surry Hills.
They’ve been open “about four months” according to one the staff I asked last night. So far there’s only one negative review I’ve read. Someone who loved the food, but who complained about the service. Others have raved about the service, so I’m guessing either the person in question had an unfortunate incident, or maybe they have unrealistic standards. As an aside, I really hate reading unrealistic online reviews from people who are paying for a budget experience, but expect five stars.
The food at “Nomad” was actually quite reasonably priced. Amongst three of us, we ordered five plates of food and a nice bottle of wine. The total cost for the meal was $65 each (including the wine), so we went home not feeling at all still feeling hungry ripped off, as you can sometimes at restaurants in Sydney.
As we consumed our meals throughout the evening the quality and experience improved. The meals we chose were an empanada (ok), calamari with squid ink (getting better), haloumi (home made), and chorizo (top notch). The wow factor meal of the night, for its flavour, texture, and inventiveness was a variation on tabbouleh. “What’s the crunch in the tabbouleh”, Sandra asked when our waiter returned. She told us, though I don’t really remember now. All I can say is it’s worth going back to Nomad purely for the tabbouleh.
That said, I might pop along on Tuesday for their wine tasting night. We chatted for a while with a staff member called Chen, who told us about the wine tasting night, and their wine tasting dinners. He spoke with real passion about the “age of the winemaker” and how many people go to restaurants these days for the wine, not so much for the food.
The original plan involved dinner with visiting friends on Friday night. But thanks to a Jetstar cancellation of their flight from the NSW North Coast, our dinner was postponed twenty four hours. I made a “don’t fly with Jetstar” resolution earlier this year, I told my friend. Too many cancelled flights, too many “rules”, and not enough care for the customers, in my view. A friend in Tasmania told me via email she loathed Jetstar for precisely those reasons. And besides, for most of the flights where I’d have to choose between Virgin and Jetstar, Virgin is generally about the same price, and offers a better service.
So yeah, the plan was to catch up with an old school friend (we’ve known each other since we were both thirteen), his partner, and another old school friend of ours for dinner. My school friend and his partner were coming to Sydney for a wedding. We thought about heading off to Nomad again, but the restaurant was booked out, with only late bookings an option. So instead, we decided on Baccomatto Osteria, an Italian restaurant on Riley Street, Surry Hills.
And what a good choice it was. The food was excellent and the waiter we had was brilliant. She was friendly, very knowledgeable and passionate about the food, and, as it turned out, has a NSW North Coast connection, via family in Mullumbimby. Though at times the restaurant was a little noisy, we really enjoyed it, and I would definitely go back there. Highly recommended.
Walking back to Surry Hills, we popped into Messina for the obligatory “Surry Hills gelato experience”, and enjoyed our ice-cream in the nearby park. And, as my friends are cheese-makers, we also popped in to take in what was on offer at the nearby Maloney’s Grocery store to see what was on offer. The night was capped off with a cup of tea. A terrific Saturday night with great friends and great food.
It’s Sunday night and I’m a little peckish. Mind you, I’ve certainly eaten well over the last few days, including going out for dinner on Friday and Saturday nights. I suspect tonight might be just a tomato, cucumber and fetta salad, if only to balance out some of the excess of the last few days. Mind you, I did have a very health lunch of felafel pita yesterday at the Bondi Junction shopping centre (my first time there), enjoying the spectacular views from the Food Court. Great food, slightly higher than average food court prices, but a very nice setting with spectacular views.
I had also enjoyed spectacular views the night before from the 31st floor (or was it the 32nd?) of the Intercontinental Hotel. A few of us ended up at a pretty amazing “after party”, giving all of us the kind of A-list experience none of us had ever experienced before, as we sat outside (even in the light misty rain), and enjoyed good conversation, views, and drinks. Sweetie, darling!
Definitely a highlight in an otherwise reasonably busy work week where I’ve been “the boss”, as our regular manager took a week away. From what I could see, there were no disasters. In fact, there were a couple of highlights including meeting former Prime Minister, Paul Keating who seemed like a genuinely nice man. There was even a bit of the “common touch” about him, as he arrived and left by hailing a taxi.
This weekend, I caught up with Kate and her friend Tony, as we went to see a couple of exhibitions, and to have dinner at BBQ King. We started off at the Damien Minton Gallery on Great Buckingham Street, Redfern, featuring an exhibition of works by Reg Mombassa, Euan McLeod and others, detailing their responses to Central Australian landscapes. Unfortunately, the exhibition was so popular that I found the opening a little crowded and wasn’t able to fully enjoy the works, and so left pretty quickly. I’ll pop back in next weekend for a proper look, especially now that I’ve given Damien a lecture about why he needs a website.
From there, we wandered to the National Trust’s S.H. Ervin Gallery (at Observatory Hill) for the annual Salon des Refuses which contains a selection of works “rejected” from the Archibald and Wynne Prizes. According to the organisers, “the exhibition follows in the tradition and spirit of an alternative salon – art that guarantees to be witty, controversial and engaging”.
There were four or five works that I really liked for a variety of reasons. I think my favourite was probably the work by Ian Smith, entitled, Gluttonous Self Portrait (Self Portrait with Ray Hughes), partly because it was so well done, and partly because I live near the Ray Hughes Gallery and often see this larger than life figure in the neighbourhood. I think knowing the subject of work was also partly the reason why I liked the portrait of Virginia Trioli by Jon Campbell, though (please forgive me), I thought she looked a little “colder” than the more outgoing, vivacious person I’ve recently come to know. As for landscapes, my favourite was a piece called “Cotton Country” by Scott Baker, featuring an aerial representation of intensive agriculture, created from the perspective of Scott who describes himself as the son of farmers, so both aware of the reasons for the impact of intensive agriculture on the land, but not necessarily happy with it.
As is often the case with Kate, we wandered off for dinner in Chinatown, at one of Kate’s particular favourites, BBQ King. If you’ve never been there, it’s worth it. Although you may find the decor and service sometimes a little off-putting, the food is very good, and as usual we ate far too much.
P.S. A note this website may go briefly offline sometime soon as I endeavour to transfer the hosting from Netregistry.
“We hope you’re fit”, an older couple (maybe in their late 60s) said to us as we walked towards the Yarrangobilly Caves. “A bit steep, is it?”, I replied, prompting a further response from the woman that they were “just taking a little rest”.
The caves are about eighty kilometres from Tumut, in the Kosciuszko National Park. As we headed out this morning, we didn’t really pay much attention to how long it took to get there, as we stopped along the way to take in the sites. There are parts where you can drive at a normal pace, but also parts where you need to slow down significantly, due to the narrow winding road.
Our first stop was roughly halfway, at the small town of Talbingo. Famously, Talbingo is home to a power station, parts of the Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Scheme, and is located on the shores of Lake Blowering. The town has a police station, a school, a caravan park, and a small shopping centre.
As you enter the “main store”, there are lots of signs outside declaring they sold “fat bait” for fishing. “Even if the power station closed down, I think there would still need to be a place for tourists to camp and shop”, I said to Sue, though I can’t be sure.
As I stopped to pay, I noticed there was a sign on the counter that one of the co-owners of the store was running as an Independent in the forthcoming local council elections. Maybe the town’s future is something the big bloke with the bushranger beard behind the counter, making coffee, will be running on?
It was great to see the author, Miles Franklin (born here) had the main street of Talbingo named after her.
After this brief stop, we headed off again, taking in the extraordinary sites of the landscape.
As we drove, we noticed the line-markings on the road transitioned from white to a golden yellow, which presumably is easier to see when there is snow on the road.
The road down into the Yarrangobilly Caves is narrow and winding. When the woman at the National Parks & Wildlife Service office told us there was only one way in and only one way out we were relieved. There are moments when you’re driving along, almost hanging off the road of the mountain, and the idea of having another car coming around the corner would have been too much to consider.
Only about 500 metres from the parks office is the entrance to the South Glory Hole (yes, really) Cave. Due to COVID, this was the only cave open to the public. Additionally, it’s not school holidays right now, and there weren’t all that many people in the park anyway.
We were the only ones walking through the caves, so it was wonderful to be able to experience this without the presence of others. “There are no sounds of screaming kids”, Sue noted.
The only sounds you hear are the sounds of dripping water.
You step in puddles of water from time to time. I held tightly to the guard rail, as I slowly walked through the cave. We stopped to read the signs, take photographs, and chat about our experiences.
There were a few moments when I felt slightly claustrophobic. I don’t have many fears in life, except small enclosed spaces. I remember once having dinner with friends who LOVE going into caves, and when they began to describe going into an especially small hole within a cave, I had to tell them to stop, as it made me feel very uncomfortable.
The first moment I felt this way was when went into the first “dark enclosed spot”. We were headed upstairs into a space where only one person could walk through. The second moment was when I began to contemplate drowning in the event of a rush of water coming through the caves. And then finally, there was another “dark enclosed spot” towards the end.
Despite those dark spots, the cave is well-lit. I’m not talking “Hollywood” lighting. Rather small lights (LEDs?) which turn on and off according to where you walk. A sign along the way declares the artificial lighting in the caves has a negative impact on the environment. It was reassuring, nonetheless, to be able to walk along and be able to see where you were walking.
Truly, a wonderful experience, and highly recommended. We spent about 30 minutes walking through.
From there we headed down to the river and thermal pool. As we walked down the 700 metres from the caves, we chatted briefly with an older American couple. “We’ve been to Kosciusko many times”, the woman told us, adding they had never been to the caves before and never to the pool. “We have our own mobile home, so we have our swimwear with us”, she told us.
Though I had brought swimwear with me on this trip to the area, I hadn’t bothered to pack it today. I thought it would be too cold to swim but was wrong. We dipped our feet in the pool, while about ten others actually jumped in. There was the American couple, other people similarly aged to us, and a group of early twenties who all seemed nervous at first about jumping in, but very quickly adapted to the surroundings.
There are two pools. One is very shallow and quite warm, but the floor was covered in moss. The other (main) pool is over two metres deep and has an average temperature of around 27 degrees celsius, warmed through the rocks deep within the ground.
Also nearby, there’s a river walk and a campground, and you could easily imagine how people could spend the whole day there.
As we walked back up the hill we stopped from time to time, to take in the sights, the wild-flowers, and to catch our breaths, much like the couple who we chatted to on our way down to the caves and pool.
My heart sunk when news came through this afternoon of a confirmed COVID case in Lismore.
According to the local area health service, someone who attended Goonellabah Public School on Monday has tested positive. The school has been closed for deep cleaning. And there’s a feeling in the community (as evidenced by Facebook comments), it’s only a matter of time before we’re forced back into lockdown.
The comments are mixed. For many, there’s anger, as people try to understand how someone could have come into contact with the condition after five or six weeks of lockdown. “They must have broken the lockdown and travelled to an infected area” is one school of thought. Another school of thought notes the child involved may have been asymptomatic, so there was no apparent need for the child to be held back from school.
Unlike the previous case, a man from Sydney, this involves a local family, so there’s bound to be a greater degree of anger from the local community because “it’s one of us”. A friend with a family member who works in Education says the family visited Sydney, despite the lockdown. “It’s only a matter of time before everyone knows who it is”, a family member who works in Health commented. Get ready for the pitchforks!
Me? I’ve gone through emotions from anger to sadness. Sadness, because I had only just booked a flight back to Sydney. Even though inner Sydney is now becoming a focus for the outbreak, I figured I might as well return home. I was on the verge of telling my family who are deeply concerned I would be returning to something resembling Albert Camus’ “The Plague”. Anger, because I knew this means those plans probably can’t go ahead.
Though I could dwell on this for quite some time, I thought I might share some photographs I’ve taken over the last few days.
BEFOR THE NEWS: As I walked past the Lismore Baths, I noticed they had re-opened for the summer, and after the lockdown. Sadly, it’s only for regular laps right now, and not a bit of a splash about. I’m not serious enough as a swimmer to be one of those people who likes to do constant laps. I like to do slaps, have a bit of a splash about, rest for a while, and then do a few more laps etc. I think lap swimmers would probably find me annoying, so I’m either going to look for an especially quiet time, or maybe wait until I get back to Sydney.Lismore Memorial BathsBehind the levee bank, LismoreThe public toilet in the Brown’s Creek Car Park gets a new look, thanks to some awesome public art.Though they’re labelled “budget accommodation” these days, they were mostly previously known as “boarding houses”. Nearby, there’s a “soup kitchen” (not sure if that’s still the correct term) which recently had (to my surprise) a reasonably lengthy queue. #signofthetimesPhyllis Street, South Lismore. Lovely, late afternoon light.Spotted one of these at the South Lismore Bakery. Though they’re calling it a “French Pastry” these days, I remember it as an “Elephant’s Ear”. Can someone please give the coronary ward at Lismore Base Hospital a heads up?
There was a sole newspaper sitting on the cafe bench on Saturday morning. It looked barely touched—still holding those crisp, familiar folds from when it was first pulled from its plastic wrapping. It sat there abandoned, a relic in the morning light, while around me, the cafe hummed with a different kind of silence. Everyone else was glued to their screens, scrolling through news or whatever else occupied their digital lives. It’s hard to know what they were looking at, really.
Barely touched, the Sydney Morning Herald
I was planning to travel down to Wollongong to record an episode of The Limb Shift, and I’ve realised how much I love these trips into nearby regions. Whether it is heading north through the Hawkesbury or slipping south to Wollongong through the beautiful, dense forests around Waterfall, the journey itself is a reward.
On the train ride home yesterday, my attention was caught by a couple—likely in their mid-to-late 70s—sitting opposite me. They were immersed in a physical copy of the Sydney Morning Herald.
It instantly transported me back to years of my own weekends, sitting with friends in a cafe, spreading the sections across the table, trading pages, and settling into a routine that lasted for hours.
I don’t consume the papers that way anymore. While I still maintain a subscription to the Herald, I read the digital replica format on my tablet, early in the morning, usually by myself. I do appreciate that curated, page-by-page view, but there was something profoundly refreshing about seeing that couple on the train. They held such serious expressions, clearly absorbed in the weight of the day’s headlines, while I, if I’m honest, am often more inclined toward the trivial.
It highlighted a growing frustration of mine: how tethered we have become to our devices at the expense of the world around us. It is remarkable—and frankly alarming—how many people walk through life with their heads tilted downward. In my own neighbourhood, I constantly see people crossing busy streets while fixated on their screens, never even glancing up to check for traffic.
As someone who uses a mobility scooter, this hits close to home. It is immensely frustrating to have people walk straight into me, only to offer a mumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Well, perhaps if you weren’t looking at your phone while crossing the road, I think to myself, though I rarely say it aloud. Maybe I should.
Earlier this week on the light rail, I saw someone reading a physical book, and it struck me again how rare that sight has become. Like newspapers, I’ve moved to a tablet, but there was a lovely, tactile quality to seeing what someone else was engaging with.
When someone is buried in a phone or tablet, they are a closed book; you have no way of knowing what has captured their imagination. A physical book, or a newspaper, invites a shared, communal experience. It offers a tiny, welcome window into the world around us—and that, I think, is exactly what we are missing.
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Agree about the signing out pain in the arse. Even more pain in the arse is that if you neglected to sign out, the next time you try to sign in you are forced to sign out of the previous place before you can sign in.
I’m not convinced that accuracy (or really completeness, because it’s self-reported) about time of departure from previous venue is worth the likely loss of sign-ins from people who just decide not to bother because it’s all become too much trouble. And when you visit places in quick succession, the log in to the next should be a good enough indicator of when you left the last.
I mostly sign out when I get the alert of a possible case at a previous venue. It’s all because I’ve been at the supermarket for 24 hours. So I go in and log out, and the alert eventually disappears. My sign out time is “rough” to say the least. Meanwhile, the timeline on Google Maps on my Android phone is probably a more reliable indicater of where I’ve been and at what time. In the US, they did contact tracing using Apple and Android technology, I understand.
Agree about the signing out pain in the arse. Even more pain in the arse is that if you neglected to sign out, the next time you try to sign in you are forced to sign out of the previous place before you can sign in.
I’m not convinced that accuracy (or really completeness, because it’s self-reported) about time of departure from previous venue is worth the likely loss of sign-ins from people who just decide not to bother because it’s all become too much trouble. And when you visit places in quick succession, the log in to the next should be a good enough indicator of when you left the last.
I mostly sign out when I get the alert of a possible case at a previous venue. It’s all because I’ve been at the supermarket for 24 hours. So I go in and log out, and the alert eventually disappears. My sign out time is “rough” to say the least. Meanwhile, the timeline on Google Maps on my Android phone is probably a more reliable indicater of where I’ve been and at what time. In the US, they did contact tracing using Apple and Android technology, I understand.