With many thanks to my relative, Peter, a bunch of black and white family photographs from the 1960s.
I’d never seen these photographs before until Pete sent them through a few days, part of the collection of his late mother.
They were all taken in the house where I was born, at 21 Kyogle Street, South Lismore.
Even though I’ve visited Hobart two or three times previously, I’ve never ever made it to the top of Mount Wellington / kunanyi, the mountain which looms large on the landscape of the city.
Whenever I’ve visited Hobart previously it’s always been for work, and so have generally flown in, done my job, and then flown out again. I’ve done a little bit of sight-seeing around Hobart, also travelling down and visiting Peppermint Bay, but nowhere near as much as I’m planning for this trip.
Although I will pop in and see some of my colleagues on Monday (Sue also has a work commitment, so we thought we would try and coincide them), this trip is purely for leisure. The aim is to spend a few days chilling out, seeing a few things we haven’t seen before, taking in the country air (we’re both from the bush, now living in the city, and need a regular dose of country air), and enjoying each other’s company.
We arrived mid-afternoon and decided a trip to the top of Mount Wellington / kunanyi was high on the agenda. The weather today was pretty gorgeous, and so we took advantage of that, knowing there’s always the possibility of snow on the top of Mount Wellington / kunanyi even during summer. On the top of the mountain we saw a few people dressed in impossibly warm clothing. In the same way Crocodile Dundee declared, “That’s not a knife, this is a knife”, I wanted to say to them, “You think this is cold, how about Sweden in winter?”.
The air on the top of Mount Wellington / kunanyi was chilly, but it was also wonderfully clear. It was also terrific driving up the mountain to see the vegetation change from tallish gum trees down the bottom, to wind-swept “alpine” vegetation at the top. On top of the views back down to Hobart, there were the rocks covered in moss, and in the distance those basalt columns which in some ways resemble a bunch of Kit-Kats all piled up against each other.
Later we had a late afternoon coffee/tea at a swish hotel, and then fish’n’chips on the wharf. We wandered past the statue of Mawson and hoped he wouldn’t take a bite of us :)
We’re in separate hotels tonight. Due to a couple of big weddings, there’s a lot of demand for hotel rooms tonight in Hobart. Tomorrow morning, after a bite to eat and a look around the markets, we’ll head up to Launceston.
Inadvertedly, a few weeks ago I booked for a “Chicksflicks” screening of the movie “Mamma Mia”. I enjoyed the movie very much, and on the upside was presented with a “goodies bag” of, apparently, appropriate items. In contrast, tonight I went along to a “men’s night” focussed on men’s parenting, where there was also a “goodies bag”.
Though the “women’s bag” was focussed on sweets and “other specials”, the “men’s bag” was far more focussed on healthier optionsm possibly because it was partly sponsored by the “Men’s Health” magazine. Did I miss the memo about “Hemp Infused” soft drink?
The men’s bag was a welcome addition to a terrific discussion about parental leave equality, and the launch of an exhibition called “Aussie Dads” by the same photographer who did an exhibition called “Swedish Dads”. Both exhibitions focussed on the wonderful intimacy father’s can have with their children in the first few years of life.
Unlike Sweden which has equal rights for either parent to take paid leave when they have children, Australia has some way to go. It exists, but it’s not uniform and widespread. Despite the apparent equality in Sweden, only thirty percent of men take it.
The men who spoke about their children and fathering did so with passion. Though some way to go, the world is changing.
A night earlier, I attended the launch of some research about LGBTIQ inclusion in the workplace, by the Diversity Council of Australia. I actually participated in the research, which sought to better understand how things stood in Australia.
Though there’s a view sexuality shouldn’t be an issue in the workplace, the research rightly pointed out people talk about their families all the time at work, and can take leave to care for children etc. But if your workplace isn’t supportive, people who are LGBTIQ, will often “carry on regardless” or leave. It’s a “business issue”, we were told, and I thought it was fascinating to hear the stories of where large companies like Deloitte’s and Qantas, appear to have more progressively supportive actives then parts of the public sector.
And in stark contrast, my Monday night went from learning about LGBTIQ workplace inclusion to seeing Rugby League The Musical. It’s kinda like the footy show, but funny, as Denis performs as different characters, affectionate taking the piss out of the sport and it’s characters.
Though I’ve seen the show before, Denis keeps updating it, because not a week goes by without more material.
“This is the best haloumi I’ve ever tasted”, my friend Michaela said to one of the co-owners of Yulli’s, one of my favourite local bars.
And she wasn’t bull-shitting. It was absolutely to-die-for. Not a squeak in sight!
We had just been to see a movie, and without too much persuasion on the part of either one of us, decided we should have a small bite to eat before heading home. And of course, we both love Yulli’s, with their combination of good vegetarian food, good wine list, and a warm and inviting atmosphere.
The movie we had been to see was called Stone Bros.
The movie’s plot concerns Charlie and Eddie (Leon Burchill and Luke Carroll) on a road trip from Perth to Kalgoorlie.
Along the way, they smoke far too much marijuana, pick up a crazy hitch-hiker, run over a kangaroo, and experience a rather mad wedding in the middle of nowhere.
In fact there’s also a lovely scene where Mark Bin Bakar (Mary G), playing the role of Aunty Carol, sings a song – slow and sensually – about how she wants to make love to….. “a blaaaaack blaaaack maaaaaan”.
David Page from Bangarra fame also plays an important role in the film as Regina, a cross-dresser holding off having the chop because he’s “not done with (his) dick yet”. The line reminded me of a scene from another movie I saw recently, Stonewall, where a similar line was used, with the follow-up, “…and neither are you”.
The film isn’t perfect. There’s a scene about a dog that goes on far too long, and without much purpose in my view. But it’s pretty good. I laughed a fair bit, enjoyed the ride, and loved the scenery, a fair amount of which I actually recognised from my time in Western Australia back in 2004.
“The film was supposed to be called To Bourke And Bourke” (or words to that effect), one of the actors said at the screening at Fox Studios. “But the money came from Western Australia, so that’s where we filmed it”, he added.
The film got a good round of applause as it ended. Although I don’t think it’s going to be block-buster, I think it has the potential to be a reasonably successful Australian film. It’s also a significant film in terms of Indigenous culture, “It’s nnnnnottttt political”, one of the actors added with a degree of almost-relief in his work.
So after watching the film and chatting with one of the actors at the pub, we headed off to Yulli’s. A perfect Wednesday.
Visiting the Wilsons River in Lismore, my hometown in Northern NSW, always stirs up a mix of emotions.
I remember a time in my childhood when the river was a true hub of activity, alive with people actually swimming in it, especially down at Simes Bridge – the one that links Lismore and North Lismore. Kids my age would fearlessly leap off that bridge, a thrill that seems incredibly reckless now, but back then, it was just part of our summer. You’d also see swimmers near the Ballina Street Bridge boat ramp.
And it wasn’t just swimming; I have clear recollections of water-skiers gliding across the surface, and the unique charm of the floating restaurant. Now, apart from the occasional boat, the river feels strangely empty.
That vibrant connection stands in stark contrast to the “complex relationship” Lismore now has with the Wilson’s River, a consequence of the massive and catastrophic floods of recent years – 2022 being particularly devastating, as I’ve written about previously.
It’s funny, growing up, we always called it the Richmond River. The name changed at some point, a detail I’ve read about a few times, but the exact reason escapes me now. Anyway, it’s the Wilsons River that now flows through Lismore today, meeting Leicester Creek. That confluence, that joining of the two waterways, is a significant factor in our ongoing flooding challenges.
I also remember a time when you could simply walk down to the river from either side. Now, in many areas, that’s impossible due to overgrown trees or other obstructions.
The extensive planting of bamboo along the banks created a physical barrier, and the river began to feel increasingly cut off from Lismore. The construction of the Berlin Wall-like levee bank only reinforced that separation, creating a tangible distance.
It’s a far cry from the past, when houses actually lined the riverbank, homes to families, often those with fewer resources or from the local Aboriginal community. The floods washed most of that history away, and even the riverside RSL Club is now gone. There was so much life happening down there once.
Now, a ride along the river reveals that nice park, a spot where people can picnic and enjoy the quiet atmosphere. You see dog walkers and people using the path. It’s a lovely area, but it’s one of the few places left where you can truly get close to the river in Lismore.
After the all the floods, and with increased mobility – you can easily go for a swim at the beach or the pool, not in the river – people aren’t as inclined to head down to the river any more.
The only time people look closely at the river, these days, is when they’re driving over the bridge to see how far up the floods waters have come. Or to park their car in one of the riverside carparks, such as nearby the rowing club.
But despite the trauma, despite the flooding, it remains a beautiful river in my eyes.
Lismore was built where it is because of things like the timber and dairy industry. But even before European settlement, I’ve read Aboriginal people lived close to the river, except when it flooded, and they would relocate to higher ground. As many of the houses of North and South Lismore, the divide between those living on one side of the river and those living right up on the hill will increase, with fewer and fewer people less likely to have any daily contact with the river.
Even though I’m no longer part of the culture of “Friday Afternoon Work Drinks”, I do remember this stage of my life very well. You would go to the pub, talk about work, and then, as the drinks kicked in, you would turn to other topics, and before you knew it, you were in a dodgy karaoke bar singing “Dancing Queen”. Through your “beer ears” you thought you sounded okay, when it fact you sounded pretty awful. And what happened to remind you of this was the appearance on stage of your workmate (who had ditched his tie and jacket) and who suddenly revealed to everyone he had a really great singing voice.
That guy was a contestant in the third heat of Melodifestivalen, the Swedish competition which selects a contestant for the Eurovision Song Contest, and his name was Andreas Weise. When he appeared on stage, I thought he would be another boring old male blonde Swede who would sing something of little consequence, only to be forgotten about minutes later. In fact, his performance was one of the best in this heat.
Along the way there were other tracks such as “Insomnia” by Ellen Benediktson (good, though probably a little too similar to Loreen’s “Euphoria”); “För din skull” (For your sake) by Kalle Johansson (boring); “Living To Die” by Andreas Johnson (the songs title says it all, it’s time for Andreas Johnson to move on); “Don’t Stop” by Isa Tengblad (boring in my view, but popular with the tweens); and “I See You” by Kristin Amparo (gorgeous voice, though I can’t remember the song only half an hour after having watched it).
But my favourite of the heat was “Jag är fri (Manne Liem Frije)” (I am free) by Jon Henrik Fjällgren. He won Sweden’s got talent last year with a song about a friend who died. Though originally from Colombia, he’s part of the Sami community and works by day, seriously, herding reindeer. The song he sang was “rousing” and “catchy” and sung in “Joik” which is a traditional Sami form of song. A big call to make at this stage, since there’s still a further heat to go, and then “Andra Chansen” before the final, but I think he has a really good chance of representing Sweden at this year’s Eurovision Song Contest.
Unfortunately the video of his performance isn’t available online yet, but here’s the video from when he won Sweden’s Got Talent.
Update – The video clip for his song has now been uploaded
Since emerging from the induced coma, I’ve been able to reflect on the incredible series of hallucinations I experienced during that period, while under SERIOUS pain medication.
One very amusing hallucination involved me being on the sixth floor of the hospital, where I imagined a fully-fledged television production team working on a documentary about amputations after overseas holidays.
One of my friends, who happens to work in the film industry, lightheartedly offered to handle the release forms for the non-existent documentary. Release forms are the documents required to confirm agreement for appearing in a documentary. Reflecting back, we now chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.
Another hallucination transported me to a hospital that also functioned as an ABC Radio station in regional Victoria. In this alternate reality, a nurse played the dual role of a radio station technician.
Throughout this period, I had other visions where I believed I was moved to different temporary hospital wards around Sydney and told a friend we should make a documentary about the staff. (I actually think we should, but that can wait).
There was also the dream where I was in some kind of open space, and someone was buzzing the door, but no one seemed able to open it. “Can one of you open the freaking door” I said in my dream, and maybe out loud.
And there was the moment where I wanted to call a friend, but didn’t have my mobile, so I asked a young person in the dream if I could use theirs. “Oh no, our generation doesn’t use mobile phones anymore”, she said. Yeah, like definitely an hallucination.
Some moments were bizarre and disconcerting, like the fear of “my toxic faeces” causing blockage in the hospital toilet system, or the incident where I imagined being held hostage by a nurse threatening to blow up the building
Though the pain relief during my previous operations (appendix and cyst removal) were significant, this period of sustained hallucination was unlike anything I had experienced before. I later attributed the vividness of my hallucinations to external conversations being absorbed into my unconscious state and then magnified, much like when radio chatter seeps into your dreams while sleeping.
For a few days after awakening from the coma, I clung to the belief that some of these hallucinations were real. It took time to reconcile them with reality.
Later, I wondered whether my mobile phone’s location tracker might validate my experience in Victoria. Unfortunately, the phone was switched off at the time, and I couldn’t fact-check the peculiarities of my hallucinations.
Throughout this whole period Michelle (my niece) told me she couldn’t find my mobile phone. I understand why.
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