The South Lismore Railway Station has seen a lot over the years. It was built in 1889 and served as a vital transportation hub for the region for over a century. However, the station has been closed for a number of years, due to flooding and damage from the 2017 and 2022 floods.
One of the most memorable events for me that took place at the station was the arrival of the hippies in 1973 for the Aquarius Festival. The festival was a major cultural event, and it attracted thousands of people from all over the world.
The station is also where I left for first overseas holiday at the age of 17.
Here are a couple of videos of how it’s looking these days.
Though many people like to go away for long weekends, I’m far more inclined to be a home-body. It’s quiet and relaxed. And so, I’m starting the third day of the Queen’s Birthday Weekend with nothing much planned, aside from a very vague idea I’ll go for a swim, and maybe engage in some more “binge television”.
The weekend started on Friday night watching a couple of episodes of the new “Tales Of The City” on Netflix. “Tales Of The City” has been part of my life for almost thirty years. I first read/devoured the books while I was in hospital after an appendectomy. Along the way, they’ve been turned into TV shows, and now, there’s a further update.
The new series is “inspired” by the books of Armistead Maupin. Anna Madrigal is now 90 years old; after an unfulfilling marriage, Mary-Ann has returned to San Francisco; Michael has taken up with a younger man, and Dee Dee seems to be following in the semi-alcoholic footsteps of her mother. There’s also a new generation coming through, with Shawna (the daughter of Mary-Ann’s school friend, Connie Bradshaw) and others, taking on a central role.
Also on the weekend, I went to see the film, “My Big Gay Italian Wedding”, currently screening at Palace Cinemas. The film’s title is exactly what it is. There are elements of comedy and farce in the film (the film’s drag queen offers to dress up in drag to imitate one of the men’s mother who refuses to attend), and the closing scene demonstrates strongly the film’s theatrical background (I won’t give it away), but ultimately it’s a sweet love story. It’s in Italian with subtitles. I’d recommend it.
Then on Saturday night, I went to see Double J’s Tim Rogers and others perform Bohemian Nights at the nearby Giant Dwarf Theatre. The conceit for the show was that Tim was a radio presenter in a country town, doing talkback, cricket scores, with musical and interview guests. Again, I enjoyed it very much. Also, recommended.
Tim RogersGeorgia MooneyTim RogersBohemian Nights at Giant Dwarf
Yesterday was also equally social, catching up with a couple of old school friends for a roast lunch at the Duck & Olive (Sunday Roast $19.99 – very tasty), and then, where the two groups combined, a couple of beers with some newer friends at The Carrington.
So yeah, a day of doing not so much on the Queen’s Birthday Holiday, may not be such a bad thing!
While visiting Melbourne this week, I decided to check out some of those lane-ways and bars that Clover Moore thinks we should have in Sydney. On the issue of bars, I remain open-minded, though a little skeptical. I mean, do we really need even more outlets selling alcohol? Don’t we have enough. And I have to say the one “small bar”, I peered through the window into looked pretty grotty, if you ask me.I’ve was in Melbourne for work, and stayed an extra day or so to catch up with my friend Sue.
Melbourne Small Bars
As her mum was also visiting, we went last night to see “Priscilla” and we spent most of today hanging out around the city, which is where I saw the laneways. The city was also where I bought a pair of new shoes (half price Julius Marlow), before heading out to have lunch and afternoon tea at Williamstown.
Aside from that brief visit to the city today, I spent most of my time at St Kilda, hardly ever leaving the motel in which I was staying and conferencing. I mean, there was a brief visit to the hairdresser, there was a dinner at “The Melbourne Winery” (I think that’s what it was called) and there was a brief beer at the Prince of Wales Hotel. The reason for my lack of non-curricular activity was the ill-effects of hayfever, due to the beautiful but hay-fever inducing plane trees (Platanus x hybrida) you find throughout Sydney. Thus, after the official work-related activity, I mostly went back to my motel room to rest.
Maybe it’s a factor of having not moved around all that much this time, but I became consciously aware this time of how largely European the population of Melbourne is. When you go to the city in Sydney you’ll generally see a large number of Asian faces, many people from the Pacific Islands, and many people from the Middle East. That was not the case in Melbourne, where the faces where overwhelmingly European (not just Anglo Saxon, but also Italian, Greek etc). It’s something I hadn’t really noticed before, but once I’d made the observation it became more and more evident. Or maybe I just didn’t see enough of Melbourne?
Melbourne Laneways
But although seemingly lacking in cultural diversity, Melbourne does have its lane-ways and on the issue of lane-ways, I say yes please. Although I’m not sure how many interesting lane-ways there really are, the two I saw today looked kinda interesting, with lots of interesting places to eat and “to be seen”. Yes, I know that’s often a trait associated with Sydney, and Melbourne readers of this blog would probably hate such a trait being associated with “the cultural capital of Australia“, but I did get the impression Melbourne residents like “to be seen” just as much as those of us in Sin City.
I also noticed today there’s a lot of development going on at the moment, if you can judge that by the number of construction cranes across the skyline. A couple of years ago, NSW Premier Bob Carr declared, “that’s enough” to development, urging immigrants to settle in other Australian capital cities to stop Sydney from becoming over-crowded and over-developed. Hopefully, someone in Melbourne will say something similar sometime soon, lest a very attractive city could lose some of its attractiveness and charm.
After one month’s break, Swedish class resumed tonight. And unlike previous occasions which have mostly been on a Tuesday night, my group now has classes on a Wednesday night. This is the same night as “Cafe Svensson”, the Swedish community get-together.
Grant and I met at the pub for a beer and a chat before class commenced at 7.15. As Grant and I walked towards class we immediately noticed (and were impressed) by the sign on the seemingly impermanent sign on the otherwise inauspicious community centre which accompanies the Lutheran Church on Goulburn Street.
After making our way through the cafe, we headed to an upstairs room where classes were being held.
Ours was a small, but interesting group of people learning Swedish: there’s a bloke whose brother lives in Sweden’ there’s a bloke who is from Swedish heritage but who was raised here (and speaks Swedish very well); there’s a bloke who previously lived in Sweden, there’s a woman who visited there, who has friends there, and there’s Grant and I.
Previous classes have often been heavy on grammar, one of my least favourite activities. I much prefer listening and speaking. Although I appreciate why we need to do grammar exercises (to learn to speak properly), I find the activities boring and sometimes confusing, as I was part of the “experiment generation” in Australia that was never really taught English language grammar either. “What’s an adverb, agaim?”, I often find myself saying :)
But tonight’s class was heavy on conversation, as we spoke almost exclusively in Swedish. And although there were occasions when I didn’t completely follow what was going on, finding the level of conversation a little sophisticated, there were also moments when I found myself following everything and even, almost, thinking in Swedish. There were more of the former and less of the latter, of course.
One of the exercises we did tonight was talk about where we lived and where we came from, and to describe ourselves as people from the city or people from the country. We needed to describe the sights and sounds of the places of our lives.
While the rest of the class were almost overwhelmingly from the city, I was the only one, aside from our teacher, who grew up outside of the city. I grew up in a house on the outskirts of town with cattle in the yard outside our house. Nonetheless, I mentioned, our home in Lismore is now much noisier than my home in Surry Hills, as I live on a quiet street here, whereas my home in Lismore is on a main road. I concluded I was a bit of both.
Afterwards Grant and I headed off to the pub again to catch up with mates. A fine evening.
In my office sweep for the World Cup I drew Paraguay. Or maybe it was Uruguay. I’m sorry, I can’t remember. My interest in the World Cup is purely tokenistic and probably relates more to an interest in the world in general, more than in interest in sport.
My interest in the Eurovision Song Contest, of course, is much greater. And so generally speaking, I use that as a guide to which country I should support.
Sweden, of course, failed to make the final of either contest this year, which is a source of national shame, I am sure.
And so when a Swede asked me which country he/she thought they should support, I suggested they support Australia, because, generally speaking, Australia (well, me), supports Sweden in Eurovision.
It would have been too much for Germany to have won both Eurovision and the World Cup, and so I’m glad they failed to make the final. Also, because they whipped our arses.
As to whether I should support Spain or Netherlands in the final, I’ve been a little confused. I had a great time in Amsterdam a couple of years ago, but I’ve never been to Spain so I’ve been struggling to choose a team without a point of comparison.
Where would I like to be if either team wins? I think the party in Madrid would be lots of fun. Lots of sex and dancing in the streets I’d imagine. But it would also be fun in Amsterdam. With sly reference to both the strength of Dutch beer and the legalisation/decriminalisation (I can never recall which) of marijuana in Holland, a listener on 702 ABC Sydney joked yesterday morning, “can you imagine the party in Amsterdam if they win…?”.
Unable to choose, I’ve come back to Eurovision and asked when was the last time either country came first in the more important international competition.
Spain is a little tough. In 1969, “Vivo cantando” (“I Live Singing”) was one of four songs which tied for first place in the Eurovision Song Contest.
Unfortunately, it’s a crap song, especially compared with the song they previously won with.
Though of course, Spain gets a special mention for their song which failed to make the top position in 1973, Eres tú by Mocedades. Great song!
The more recent winner from the two countries was the Netherlands in 1975 with “Ding-A-Dong” (Dutch: “Dinge-Dong”), sung by Teach-In.
It’s always been a favourite of mine, and so on the basis of preferring the Dutch Eurovision winner over the Spanish Eurovision winners, I’m going for Holland this time around.
Despite the years (decades?) since I last played it, I still have a copy the 12-inch vinyl album “Rattlesnakes” by Lloyd Cole and The Commotions. Released in late 1984, this album was a permanent fixture on my turntable during the following year, my second year at Griffith University.
Even now, I can vividly picture my on campus single room, the record player, and my university friends, Michele and Heather, sitting with me, unwinding and reveling in the sophisticated melodies of his “literate” pop.
Although their albums and their singles achieved chart success, there was an unmistakable “indie” vibe about Lloyd Cole. During those years, Lloyd held a certain charm for artsy university types like myself. Oh, and I also thought he was very cute :)
Back then, the “cooler” of my university male friends adorned themselves in paisley shirts, while women favored high-buttoned tops. Last night, at Lloyd Cole’s solo performance at the City Recital Hall inh Sydney, the once ubiquitous paisley shirts made a resurgence among the male attendees, albeit accompanied by middle-aged paunches. Curiously, the women in attendance did not seem as inclined to resurrect their 1980s wardrobe.
Nearly four decades since the release of “Rattlesnakes,” I still regularly play the album, albeit through modern music streaming services. The lyrics to every track remain etched in my memory. My particular favourites include “Forest Fire” and “Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken?”.
During the show, as a couple arrived late, Lloyd quipped, “Welcome along, don’t worry, you haven’t missed Rattlesnakes,” eliciting laughter from the audience. Later, when another couple arrived even later, he humorously remarked, “Sorry, you’ve missed Rattlesnakers,” prompting further laughter.
Fortunately, Lloyd acknowledged that a considerable portion of the audience was there to reminisce about our late teens and early twenties when “Rattlesnakes” was a dominant soundtrack.
The performance last night featured four songs from the classic album, along with hits from later albums like “Brand New Friend” and “Lost Weekend.” However, much of the setlist comprised songs unfamiliar to me, as I haven’t closely followed his career in recent years.
He candidly described 2006 as the year when he was “almost completely invisible.” Surprisingly, his most recent solo album was in fact released earlier this year—a fact I was unaware of until now. I particularly enjoyed discovering his song “The Afterlife,” released in 2019.
Nonetheless, it is his work with The Commotions that resonates most strongly with me, motivating my attendance at last night’s show.
The performance itself was unassuming—just him on stage, minimally moving, alternating between guitars. Despite a slightly raspy voice, attributed to a mild cold, the audience, myself included, thoroughly enjoyed the show. Despite being seated toward the back, next to the mixing desk, the sound quality was superb—an advantage of being in proximity to the sound engineer.
Lloyd Cole at Sydney’s “City Recital Hall”.
I struck up a conversation with the couple beside me. She, a devoted fan from the early days, revealed that her husband “put up with it.” Neither of us could recall if we had witnessed Lloyd live during the “glory days,” but both departed the hall having relished an experience that was both nostalgic and contempoary.
The two guitars Lloyd Cole alternated between at Sydney’s “City Recital Hall”.
