It’s been ten months now since the catastrophic flood hit Lismore, my hometown.
The damage is still being felt in many ways. Emotionally and financially, many people remain scarred.
But there are signs of optimism, with an increasing number of re-opened shops. Re-opened shops won’t tell you how people are feeling, but they’re still a recovery indicator.
So today, I went for a walk around the block and recorded this short video.
I first encountered Tom Nash’s story while I was in the hospital, navigating the immediate aftermath of my own amputation. I read his book, Hook, Line & Sinner, during those early, difficult days and later revisited it by listening to the audiobook, which I found a bit easier to consume at that stage of my recovery. His perspective was one of the few things that truly resonated with me during that time.
Today, I had the privilege of sitting down with Tom for an interview to discuss his “turbulent existence” since losing all four limbs at the age of nineteen due to meningococcal disease. This conversation will feature as part of my podcast, The Limb Shift, which explores the lived experiences of limb loss and limb difference. I am currently deep in production and anticipate that the series will launch around April or May 2026.
Now in his mid-forties, Tom’s journey from a hospital bed to becoming a successful nightclub DJ, business owner, and international speaker offers lessons in what he calls antifragility.
Tom is pragmatic about identity, refusing to let disability become his entire persona. He told me, “Disability is a part of my life, but it’s not every part of my life. I think one of the things that I get irritated about with many people is that one aspect of their life becomes their complete identity”.
This outlook extends to his choice of prosthetics; he uses hooks designed after the First World War because they are lightweight, easy to maintain, and allow him to be self-reliant. This constant need for adaptation has shaped his entire worldview: “You’re not going to be doing things the way that people always do them. You’re going to have to approach problems from a different angle”.
He shared a brilliant story about trying to use a BIC lighter with his hooks. After days of frustration, he realized he didn’t actually need a lighter—he just needed to use BBQ matches. As Tom explained, “Most of the time when you’re solving problems… you’re trying to use a lighter, not trying to set fire to something. It’s about redefining the problem or working out what the outcome or the objective actually is”.
We also discussed moving forward after trauma, specifically his concept of antifragility—growing stronger because of stressors rather than just bouncing back. “Antifragility is growing stronger through challenges,” he noted, comparing the mind to an immune system that responds to pressure. He also touched on the often-misunderstood nature of trauma, stating that “telling people that they’re traumatized is sometimes traumatizing” because it imposes an expectation of how they should feel. For Tom, the path forward was fueled by a sense of duty: “You feel a sense of responsibility to overcome because of how much those people have invested in you”.
Tom’s philosophy is built on focusing on small, immediate goals. Reflecting on learning to walk again, he said, “The end actually comes quicker when you’re focusing on small little goals in front of you and not getting too bogged down in the… end goal of being a complete person”. Today, he lives with a refined sense of agency and perspective, rarely planning more than six months ahead to stay open to opportunity. He remains firm in his ownership of life: “You’re the only one standing in the way of you becoming everything that you could possibly be… nobody else can fix that for you”.
Twenty-five years after his life changed, Tom continues to look forward, focusing on his Youtube show Last Meal and on preparing to write his next book. You can find more about his work and speaking at tomnash.com.
Take a listen to what he had to said about giving advice to others.
There’s a stereotype that people from Melbourne tend to popularise that Melbourne and Sydney are somehow different: that Melbourne is cultural, arty etc and Sydney is a little superficial. Here in Sydney, we don’t give a second thought to any perceived difference… I mean, why would you bother?
While looking at the Sydney Morning Herald today I observed some interesting similarities and differences, in terms of what readers in both cities actually find interesting in their newspapers.
The most viewed story in Sydney concerned Australia’s controversial Miss Universe entrant, Erin McNaught, who has been handpicked to appear on one of America’s top TV talkshows with billionaire Donald Trump, while in Melbourne, it was a story about Oxana Malaya who learnt as a young child when she was brought up by a pack of dogs on a rundown farm near the village of Novaya Blagoveschenka in Ukraine.
The big issues for readers of “The Age” included the weather (surprise!) as Victorians awoke to the chilliest morning for almost 12 months, today, with temperatures falling well below zero in cold spots around the state. They were also interested in the story of a man who cut off his own penis in a drunken bet, and the discovery through Google Earth of a small-scale model of a piece of territory in China complete with snow-topped mountains, streams and valleys and the
Readers of the “Sydney Morning Herald” were also interested in the Google Earth story. There was also a big story about a stabbing, as an 18-year-old man was in hospital with a 10 centimetre cut to his throat after it was slashed with a knife in Sydney’s east this morning. Unlike our parochial cousins down south, Sydney-siders also had an interest in the Middle East crisis.
Both cities were very interested in the news that Jessica Rowe is pregnant and that speaks volumes too!
Goodness knows what I’ll see on the front page of “The West Australian” tomorrow.
“This could be really good or really lame”, I said to my friend Michaela the other week when I invited her to join me for the “Radio Play” at Giant Dwarf Theatre. I’d read about the event a few weeks ago on Eventbrite, and I heard Tom Ballard who wrote/directed the event on 702 ABC Sydney this morning.
“You know, we’re the only people old enough to actually remember radio plays”, I said to her as we met at the theatre. The crowd was very twenty-something, though we did spot a bloke who was actually older than us. “He’s here with his daughter”, Michaela noted.
The whole idea around tonight was to do a night of “modern radio theatre”, and I suspect it was a passion project, more than something which was seen as commercially viable. That said, there was a reasonably good crowd at the Giant Dwarf tonight.
As “modern radio theatre”, the concepts behind the sketches was also very modern: a sketch involving an orgy on the Lower North Shore, a piss-take on “Serial” (the new podcast from “This American Life”) which was really, really funny and, to be honest, a third sketch which I don’t actually remember a couple of hours later (obviously because we’re so old).
We sat right up the front and chose a seat which WE THOUGHT would avoid some degree of audience interaction. How wrong we were. “I hate audience interaction. Don’t go there”, Michaela told the host/writer/creator, Tom Ballard when he singled her out for some audience interaction. I’ve previously seen him doing standup and thought he was pretty average, pretty lame, to be honest. In contrast, we both agreed tonight was surprisingly good. In parts, it was probably a little over-written. But overall, it was a really great night of theatre, written and performed with passion. And it was great to see a bit of live radio theatre. Apparently, it will eventually turn up somewhere as a podcast.
“I don’t want to come to work tomorrow. I just want to spend the whole of tomorrow watching television” I told my boss at the pub today. A few of us had gone to a nearby pub to watch “Melbourne Cup”. Quite frankly, it’s an event I no longer feel any interest for or excitement in. I agree today’s photo finish was pretty good. But I’m far more interested in the outcome of tomorrow’s US election.
As the results should be clear by mid-to-late afternoon, Damo and I have made tentative plans to catch up after work tomorrow to conduct our own “post-election analysis”. We’re both “election junkies” who find as much, if not more excitement in watching an election night on television, as others would find in a world cup soccer match.
Melbourne Cup, on the other hand, is just a bit of a yawn to me personally. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a betting household, where my grandmother (in particular) was always putting some money “up the field’ or “both ways” on her latest horse. I swear I knew as much about horse-racing by the age of ten as I knew about anything else in the world.
Of course we had an office sweep. You have to, don’t you? And I drew #13 “Boundless” which was doing fairly well for a while. “I’m gonna peak early, just like last year”, I said to a colleague at the pub, noting that I always seem to end up drawing those horses who, after a good start, fall dramatically behind in the last 1000 metres.
So we watched the race, had a beer and wandered back to the office. I was back at my desk by 3.30 or thereabouts.
Melbourne Cup day also meant a reasonably small turnout at Swedish class tonight. There were just four of us, this week, meaning most people have probably declared their own public holiday.
I found class a little bit harder tonight, as I haven’t practiced for a few days. That, and I was also a little bit tired. “It’s hard to work a full day concentrating and then having to come to concentrate again”, the bloke next to me at class confided.
Coming home tonight I was pretty mentally exhausted so I slumped in front of the television and watched further coverage of the US election. I’ve been watching the Breakfast and Morning Shows on Fox News where they’ve been offering “advice for the undecided”. The polls have already opened.
As great as it would be just to stay home tomorrow and spend all of my time watching it, I’ve got quite a bit on. Still, it’s gonna be fascinating to watch it all unfold. And who knows, despite the polls, it might also be a photo finish?
“Are you alright there, mate?”, I was asked by one of the workers (presumably the supervisor) chopping down trees on nearby Cleveland Street earlier today. Along with about a dozen others, I was there simply waiting for a bus. He was obviously mindful of the potentially political and social impact of chopping down trees, these days. As it was a significant local event, I told him I took a couple of photographs, primarily for this blog, and because I like history-making events.
As previously blogged, the Surry Hils Shopping Village is currently undergoing a transformation. The smallish shopping centre is being transformed into something much larger, which will also include residential apartments.
“No worries”, I told him, adding that I was a long-term local.
I shared the photographs with friends via email, and on a Facebook group site of interested locals.. The group is primarily concerned about changes to the speed limit on Cleveland Street, to the ability to turn off Cleveland Street, and to the impact on neighbouring streets.
Comments varied from this…
This really gives me the sh*ts- I believe as part of their DA they’re required to replace trees on a 1 for 1 basis, but there’s no way a sapling can replace a 40 year old mature tree- I’m surprised the city didn’t push harder for them to be preserved (on that note, I believe the remaining trees on Baptist street are city owned so they should remain)
…to this.
Sacrificing a few gum trees is a small price for this overdue development.
By the time I got home from work, the trees were all gone.
Later, I reflected on this being the second time in the last few days when I was “in the right place at the right time”.
On Sunday night, I was sitting alone having a beer at Stonewall Hotel on Oxford Street. The rain was tumbling down, and I was staring blankly at the passing parade outside, enjoying my beer.
At about 8.30pm, I thought my eyes were deceiving me when I suddenly saw a naked man walk past. Yes, absolutely, completely naked. He was walking quite briskly, and so at first I thought my eyes were deceiving me, and maybe he was just wearing shorts. Though I could be wrong, he looked 60-something in age, and had one of those all-over tans.
But yeah, he was absolutely naked. I knew for sure when I saw the shocked reaction of someone standing outside having a cigarette. I jumped to my feet and rushed outside to take a photograph to document this other “history-making” event.
This was the best I could do.
Everything is going smoothly so far. I’d pre-purchased my ticket for the Arlanda Express, which is a dedicated high-speed rail link that whisks you from the airport into Stockholm Central Station in just 18 minutes. It hits speeds of up to 200 km/h, but the best part for me was the accessibility; it offers level boarding from the platform, which makes life much easier. The airport wheelchair assistance was also excellent—the wheelchair assistant took me all the way to the platform.
Aside from a minor detour—there are two Radisson hotels next to Central Station and I naturally picked the wrong one first—it’s been a breeze. It’s cold, certainly, but hardly a blizzard. I’m actually still wearing my shorts. Tomorrow is forecast to be sunny.
I’m flying with Norse Atlantic Airways, a relatively new low-cost carrier that has stepped into the gap left by other budget long-haul airlines. They operate a modern fleet of Boeing 787 Dreamliners, offering a “no-frills” experience where you pay a low base fare and then add on everything else—from meals to seat selection—as extra. I bought the ticket well aware of these limitations, but the price for a return trip between Bangkok and Stockholm was too good to pass up.
While boarding my flight in Bangkok, I overheard a classic budget airline exchange. “Could I get a seat in the exit row?” a woman asked the flight attendant. “That will be $50,” came the reply. “Even if the seat is free? And I’m a doctor,” she added, hoping for a professional courtesy. “That’s still $50,” came the reply.
“It’s half the price of flying with Thai Airways,” a man remarked to me as we boarded. He’s Swedish but has a Thai wife; they split their retirement years between both countries. At 70, he’s been retired for a decade after running a printing business. He was returning to Sweden to check on his house on an island in the archipelago. He mentioned he also helps out his older neighbours by “emptying out their shit buckets”—apparently a common logistical challenge for island dwellers.
One thing about having an amputation is that it’s often a natural conversation starter. He noticed my Australian passport and asked what happened. Realising we could have a laugh, I gave him my usual lines: I sometimes tell people it was a shark, or that I lost it fighting as a soldier in the Middle East.
I’d estimate about half the passengers were Swedish. In the middle of winter, they flock to Thailand to escape the gloom. You can always spot the returning Swedes at Bangkok Airport—they’re the ones with the deep, two-week tans. I remember once seeing a woman take off her sunglasses to reveal stark white circles where her tan hadn’t reached.
The in-flight menu is priced in US dollars. A ham and cheese toastie will set you back about $10.50, with small meals around $13.00. They also sell a lot of “travel tech” merchandise, like luggage trackers and Bluetooth connectors for headphones. Not that those were useful today—an email last night warned us the in-flight entertainment system was broken.
While the Swedish couple next to me were quite concerned, it didn’t bother me. I’d brought my Chromebook tablet, packed with about a dozen of my all-time favourite films for precisely this reason. I revisited some absolute classics like Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Brokeback Mountain. There is something about the isolation of a long-haul flight that makes those heavy, emotional dramas hit even harder. I also have Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (fitting for a Stockholm arrival) ready to go.
I also started watching A Single Man, where Colin Firth plays an academic in the 1960s dealing with the hidden grief of losing his partner. I remember sobbing out loud the first time I saw it. Within fifteen minutes today, I started to tear up again, so I decided to save the rest for the flight home.
The crew were lovely—a truly international mix with a Swedish captain, an American customer service lead, and French-speaking cabin crew. I had one flight attendant speak to me in Swedish, and I was able to respond accordingly The plane felt modern and well-maintained, despite the tech glitch.
The flight from Bangkok to Stockholm takes roughly 12 hours and 40 minutes. We left the lunchtime heat of Thailand and touched down in mid-evening, sub-zero Stockholm.
Interestingly, the security officer seemed baffled as to why an Australian would be coming to Sweden at this time of year. #rollseyes
My Swedish friends also can’t understand why I’d visit now rather than in the height of summer. I understand their perspective, but for me, the snow and ice are the main draw. It’s been ten years since I last saw a proper winter. There are risks, of course—falling is a bigger concern now as an amputee—but the beauty of the landscape far outweighs the downsides.
My friends back home seem to be in a panic about the weather on my behalf, but I’m exactly where I want to be.
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