Mark Wilkinson: a man with a guitar and a gift

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Mark Wilkinson, music, the road home, The Road Home tour, tour with a difference

Sometimes you go to a concert or music show at a stadium, or at a theatre, or a club. Or sometimes you get to go to one in someone’s house on a farm in Oakdale in a place so random you need Google maps to find your way there.

Such is the flavour of Mark Wilkinson’s current tour, ‘The Road Home’, which has been taking place since May, from North America to across Australia and New Zealand, on farms, in people’s homes and random venues. It’s the epitome of up close and personal. And isn’t it lovely?

We’d come prepared for an outdoor event, on an evening with serious bite, with jackets and beanies, three layers and a rug. We even brought directors chairs. But luckily we didn’t need any of those because instead we were inside in a shed that had been transformed by our enthusiastic hosts, the warm and welcoming Joe and Kim, into a fine venue created just for the evening.

What had been a shell of a building had been fitted out with walls, a roof, then rows of seats, heaters and even a choice of comfy lounges at the back and front (they had to buy new ones for inside to replace them), with a stage lit softly at the front. Our hosts even put on an unexpected and generous dinner spread, enough to feed an army. I think that’s because they’re Italian and the relies were invited. That’s what they do. We brought wine but they offered us more. We felt we were among friends.

The stage was a simple affair—a mic, two speakers and a trio of central bulbs casting soft light upwards, and fine stranfs of fairy lights strung loosely around the perimeter, and a lit M & W set at the back either side of lettering spelling out the name of the tour. It was all that was needed. And then entered a small-framed performer with a guitar and a serious demeanour, with a calm but powerful presence, who stills the rooms and lets you into his world.

It was an intimate affair, only 60 or so people in the room, some new to this grounded artist who seems to fly somewhat under the radar, and some dedicated followers. One’s so dedicated she follows him from venue to venue, even state to state. An evening of beautiful melodies, lyrics that pierce your soul, and a voice that resonates and pulses with emotion, with a morsel of vibrato in all the right places to elevate it to the heavens. It’s a gifted voice and just a snippet of it – whether you heard it in a coffee ad on television years ago (me) or wafting down the streets of the Rocks as Mark performs as a busker (the hosts) – can stop you in your tracks, and cause you to track down its owner.

An acoustic guitar is the only accompaniment, a trusted friend to help tell the stories, with signature and unapologetic squeaks as fingers slide from one fret to the next along the way. This from a singer whose face grimaces from emotion from time to time as he experiences the songs himself, and pulls away from the mic as if in exquisite pain to finish the notes with fervour but never force.

From the front lounge to the side, Joe the host erupts in praise after the third song. ‘That was brilliant. Just brilliant. That was brilliant that song.’ And everyone laughs. The faces of the family dogs appear occasionally at the glass window behind the performer, and even they bark their approval occasionally during the breaks to be part of the event. It seemed apt.

All my favourites are played, and there are many, and then more. It’s beautiful music, laid back, soulful, pretty beyond aesthetics. ‘Love High’ came early —’our song’, the one we dance to when it comes on at home, the one which will farewell us at our funerals, but we can’t dance here. Just listen. It’s an effort not to join in with the vocals through the evening, but when you’re only two metres from the performer you know it just can’t be done.

As if the music itself isn’t emotional enough in its own right, that night just before the show started I learned that Connie Johnson from Love Your Sister cancer charity had died hours before, our Connie, Canberra’s Connie, everyone’s Connie. So when Mark sang ‘All I Ever Wanted’ at the end of the evening, there was a special poignancy about it and the lyrics seemed to be hers: “Something so strong, that never dies.” It’s about being in the here and now, which is pretty much what #nowisawesome is all about.

There’s an encore, another sad song, and then another encore, and another. We finish with ‘Another necklace’, another fave. Too many anothers.

If you don’t know this music, look it up. Listen to it. Seriously.

We stocked up on the newest albums to add to our collection and listened to them on the drive home the next day. Without exception, each track is worthy, and the interspersion of violin and cello add another dimension and depth to the simplicity of the unplugged live versions.

On the night it was just one singer, one guitar, one voice.

It was enough.

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Tricky Thai travel tips

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Phuket, Thailand, travel tips, tricky travel tips

Local tips can add to your holiday joy, even if you’re a seasoned traveller, including little things you knew already but had forgotten. Fresh from the shores of the Andaman Sea in Phuket, here’s a collection of some favourite tips from the last trip.

Getting around

• Always travel with someone who likes maps, especially when maps are not your friend. Good to get some orientation and idea of distances to plan your days and before you set off in taxis.

• Taxis and tuk tuks are the choices to get around town. Barter hard with a smile. Do some investigations first to get a ballpark and work from there, for example, prices hotel foyers prices give you a starting point to come down from. You can even hire a driver or a boat for the day and split the cost between friends.
• Get a metred taxi from the airport (check it’s on when you get in). We paid 700 THB into Phuket, were quoted 1100THB on the way back by the hotel desk service, and agreed 850 TBT on the street ourselves by being insistent, so prices vary.
• When you agree a price, specify ‘no stops’ or you might find yourself being dragged around their friend’s shop on the way.
• Tuk tuks in Phuket are sadly not of the fun three-wheeled variety found elsewhere in Thailand, and they’re also more expensive. If you’re getting a tuk tuk home and you know you’re being charged an inflated rate but they won’t budge (any of them!, because they don’t like having to take you up that hill to your hotel), pick one with pimping lights and pumping music. Makes you feel like you got your money’s worth, and your fellow passengers will sing.

Shopping

• Bartering is expected at the markets but not in shopping centres and restaurants. Barter with good humour and manners to get you further. If you’re allowed to walk away without a fight, you’re at their limit. Don’t forget, the final dollar you save will probably be way more important to the Thai seller than to you.
• Street stalls and markets in Phuket and other areas of Thailand are full of life and hustle and bustle and give credence to the Thai catch cry of ‘same same’. If you want something a bit different, head to the quieter areas off the beaten track, like old Phuket Town or even some of the larger shopping centres. Old Phuket Town has some wonderful historic streets dotted with unique shops and galleries, where the speed slows down tenfold and the quality and variety goes up.

Eating

• Try some street food – hot and fresh. Pad Thai cooked right in front of you is not to be missed and is one of the safest ways to eat.

• Remember that just about everything in Thailand comes with chilli, occasionally near deadly quantities, so ask for it to be tempered to your taste buds if you don’t want to lose your lips.
• Always eat the pineapple. It’s holiday pineapple. A special kind of pineapple. Delicious. It also has ‘medicinal’ properties to overcome other ‘issues’ you may have when suddenly adjusting to a different diet. Lots of fruit! Say no more.

• Fresh croissants at brekkie are a good thing, but Thai humidity makes them soggy within seconds. If there’s a conveyor belt type toaster, whack them through to return them to their former crisp glory. Also transforms pancakes from rubbery to hot and delicious within seconds. Winning.

• No matter how many times I try desserts in Asia, even at the poshest of establishments, I am underwhelmed. They’re all about flummery, gelatinous textures and super sweet flavours. But the local ice creams are pretty fab, and dirt cheap. If you’re buying from the street-side box fridges, forget the standard magnum type things and hit the local brands instead. Delicious!
• Try a street stall pancake for dessert on the run. There’s a bit of a fixation on banana flavoured ones, but the simple lemon and sugar is a classic. Watch the cooker first to see how thick the pancakes are – it’s a little like Goldilocks and the Three Bears – you have to get one that’s just right.

Drinking

• Don’t drink the local water – that will increase your chances of getting sick. This means the country goes through an extraordinary number of plastic bottles buying bottled water, many of which end up in the oceans and discarded on the beaches. Shame! Don’t leave them behind and be horror tourists.
• But if you keep one, or even better, travel with your own drinking bottle, you can boil water at night and keep refilling your own bottle and help save the world one bottle at a time.
• Keep some bottled water next to your toothbrush and use that for brushing instead of the unpotable local stuff. That one sneaks up on you.
• Wine drinkers – just give up for the duration and stick to cocktails – cheaper by far and feels more like a vacation. Or drink the local beer which is a cost effective travel drink.

Spa treatments and massages

• Do some of these. Do many of these. Do these every day if you can. Get. a. foot. massage.
• Choose the place you go carefully. Sometimes it is a case of you get what you pay for, like nail polish that goes furry and peels in two days for $9. The spas in resorts or hotels are more expensive, but they are more convenient and will often be nicer with better privacy and offer a more indulgent experience. Hotels usually offer two for one deals and happy hour deals in the middle of the day, especially in the low season.

• I’m pretty sure the spa treatment places along the main drag with strings of girls and lady boys thrusting the massage menus at you as you walk past do more than manicures and back massages. Especially the ones with private rooms. That’s probably not the place to go if you’re away for a girls’ week away.
• Be aware that once you add oil in the mix (aromatherapy massages), tummies and sometimes even more can be involved. You’re in charge – specify beforehand if you want to concentrate on certain body parts or leave some out.
• Try something new – I did a heat compression massage which was fab, but don’t let anyone walk on your back. No one’s tried that on me, but I’ve heard stories and it can do a lot of damage.

Mosquitos

• Zika virus and malaria are about, so take insect repellent with you and put it on before you go out. Close your door and wardrobe at night in your hotel room – mozzies lurk there during the day and come out at night to catch you unawares. Sneaky little buggers. Depending on where you go, consider malaria tablets (before, during and after your trip), and even a mozzie net.

And a special tip to my beloved daughter and others of the lily white variety.

• Yes, Ms Temporary Tomato. Of course you can still get burnt under an umbrella, especially when your skin is so white and transparent even taxi drivers comment. And the water in the pool does afford any protection as you float around on top of it, even for a few minutes. In fact, it’s just like saying to the sunburn gods, ‘Send it down, Huey – with an extra bit of bite.’ It’s like that Thai chilli- it burns.

Wherever you go, do a bit of research first about your destination and what’s on offer. For Thailand, Lonely Planet is a good start, or Phuket.com, or expat or foodie blogs and (serious) foodie reviews (more on eating out in Phuket coming soon). You don’t want to find out about the amazing things when you get home.

 

 

How to banish the texting sloth in your life and text like a boss

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bluetooth keyboard, keeping up with the kids, technology, travel technology, typing like a sloth

I am totally crushing at the latest bit of technology in my life. The time I am saving now when I’m wasting time!

No longer do I have to battle that pesky little ‘keypad’ on the bottom of my phone trying to type long messages, hitting all the wrong keys, battling autocorrect, lagging three steps behind when I’m in a conversation with multiple 20-somethings at the same time. I’m still struggling with my first reply and my phone’s going ping, ping, ping, with all the messages flooding in. By the time I’m finished my response, it’s likely to be no longer relevant. How do they type so bloody quickly on those things? And no – using my thumbs does not work! They don’t seem to be connected to my brain the same way yours are.

So now I’ve got my own back – I have invested in a bluetooth keyboard which connects to my phone to a regular little keyboard but bit smaller. I can use ALL my fingers again (well, nine of them) and keep up with all those rapid, pinging conversations from the young ones in my life.

I actually bought the keyboard because the keyboard on my fancy little laptop for travels had decided it will not type ‘A’s anymore, which makes writing coherent sentences quite difficult. And the cost to repair? $280. Gotta love this disposable technology designed to last just a couple of years, or just until it’s out of warranty!@?

In any case, connecting the iphone to the keyboard has brought a great joy to my life.

Phone keyboard sloth – be gone!

Transforming Fyshwick – more than meets the eye

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#BoutiqueFyshwick, Canty's bookstore, Christmas Emporium, Endangered Heritage, Fyshwick, Humble House Gallery, maps, shopping, Smallbiz, Urban Providore

Changes are afoot in Fyshwick. If you’ve been around in Canberra a while, you may remember Fyshwick as being rather an industrial place, full of cars and hardware and building-type things (and yes, yes – those other things too).

But there’s a bit of a transformation taking place, and Fyshwick is becoming quite a little shopping hub as well, full of speciality and boutique businesses with gourmet delights, antiques, fashion and other delights abounding. Recently I wrote about ten excellent reasons to visit Fyshwick as a way to explain my Fyshwick-frequenting, but there’s heaps more – and the list is growing.

You just have to know where to go. So, isn’t it handy that a few enterprising individuals have joined forces and have made a lovely little map of some of the boutique establishments on offer? Unsurprisingly, it’s called Boutiques of Fyshwick. I suspect there will be another edition a little further on the track, because this place keeps transforming.

Here’s the lowdown on the first five members of #BoutiqueFyshwick.

Urban Providore

If you love your food, you need to know about Urban Providore, and the whirlwind of Dawn who is behind it. Beginning life as a wholesaler of gourmet foods from regional producers across Australia, Urban Providore is now set up in Fyshwick to supply us normal folk as well, in store or online, which means you can buy the same things in smaller quantities. Things like relishes, and salad dressings and vinaigrettes, and spices, and even smoked black pepper, my friend’s fave. And did I mention the fudge? And then there’s a world of non-food foody-type items (they call them accoutrements), like cook books, and chopping boards, and garlic presses. (You should never underestimate the importance of a good garlic press in your life). And confession – I’ve got my eye on one of their hampers for Christmas.  Life is definitely too short for bad food.

Humble House Gallery

Take a few steps off Wollongong Street, follow the timber garden path at the end of a laneway, and a whole world of Chinese history, furniture and design will erupt before your eyes as you enter the Humble House Gallery. It’s actually enormous and full of wondrous things, like traditional cupboards, sideboards and tables (mahjong anyone?) as well as ceramics and lamps and decorator pieces with a difference. All Chinese. All restoration work is carried out in Beijing, where Roger is proud to tell you that workmanship is the highest priority and all work is handcrafted. Completely loving the timber grain measures that doubles as vases. And to top it off (literally), there’s a small museum of Chinese historic pieces on the top floor that’s well worth a visit in itself. This gallery has been a stalwart of Canberra business for 20 years, seven of those in Fyshwick. And it all sits quietly there at the end of the lane, just waiting to be discovered.

Endangered Heritage

Have you ever wondered what to do with your mum’s wilting wedding dress you can’t bear to throw out or how to repair an old cracked vase with much sentimental value? The conservator folks at Endangered Heritage know all about those old things and how to preserve them or possibly fix them. There’s a whole team of experts, in fact, that know about textiles and papers and frame and storing and chemicals and all sorts of technical things. They even do disaster recovery, which sounds rather public-servantish in a town like Canberra but can actually help you save treasures that have been damaged by water or insects. Just when I’m trying to clear out cupboards, I have discovered someone who can help restore things instead!

Unicode

Unicode

Canty’s bookshop

Philosopher Thomas Aquinas warned us to ‘beware the man of a single book’. In that case, you don’t need to be wary of Luke and Laura Canty of Canty’s bookshop at all, because they’ve got thousands of them. Well over fifty thousand of them. And they’re stacked and piled and packed in and up, and they cover just about any topic you can think of. Mainly good quality second hand but with a great collection of new remaindered ones as well at good prices. I’m rather fond of the cooking section. I buy cooking books for my hubbie and he cooks things from it for me. Boom! It’s not a huge shop for the number of books it contains, but there is a Tardis inside.

Hang ups framing and Christmas Emporium

Christmas is always coming in Fyshwick now that the Hang Up Framing Gallery has transformed itself into a year-long Christmas emporium as well. It’s like Santa’s workshop without the elves. There’s trees, and garlands and decorations, and of course snow globes. Who doesn’t love a snow globe?  All your Christmases at once. And for those who insist on being bah-humbugs, you can always get your framing done or get your hanging sorted.

Watch out for Fyshwick, Canberra – it’s going through a bit of a rebirth. Who needs fireworks anyway when we’ve got Skyfire?

 

To buy or not to buy…a whopping great campervan

Tags

campervan, grey nomads, indecision, overfifty, roadtripping

 📷 TheBeast

That is the question.

And it’s one we’ve been asking ourselves for quite a while now, and doing a bit of investigation and a lot of soul searching along the way. There’s a great big country out there with lots to see and do, and this could be the way to do it. Lots of flexibility, our own little home on wheels, we wouldn’t have to spend a fortune on accommodation, go wherever we wanted, take things slow, find some hidden places off the beaten track (well, not too far off because I watched Wolf Creek). All those things.

When we first started tossing the idea around, we had simple expectations. Just something small and basic. We didn’t need anything too fancy. No big kitchen, and definitely no bathroom. We don’t want to be responsible for that stuff. And we certainly don’t want to tow a caravan or trailer – too big and heavy and it wouldn’t allow us to stop easily here and there on a whim. There’s all those surprise little shops and coffee places you simply must pop into unexpectedly, and trying to get a park with a Mack truck-equivalent tagging along behind just wasn’t our idea of fun. Nope, just an old style Kombie thing, but a bit nicer perhaps. We could pretend we were straight out of ‘The Drifters’ from decades ago, carefree and travelling without a worry in the world. We’d just need a comfy mattress and a few basic kitchen items. And well, maybe a Nespresso machine. Just a small one.

So we started looking. We had some ideas about how much it would cost, but those ideas were soon blown out of the water. Not even close. But still, just something simple. And second hand would be fine. But not too old of course. You don’t want to buy someone else’s mechanical problems.

And we looked a bit more. We looked at Hiaces and Frontliners and a few others, and vans people had transformed themselves. Of course the ones with lower prices had high milages, and they were a bit old, and the panelling was a bit daggy, and some weren’t very clean. That little princess was beginning to emerge. And so was the prince too, to be honest.

So we thought, maybe we’ll get a new one instead. The prices went up of course, but they’d be nice and clean, and … you know, nice. Then we looked at VWs instead of Toyotas, and the prices went up again. And then we looked at Trakka, and the prices escalated more, but everything was so well thought out, and practical, and neat, and terribly nice. There were blinds that transformed into flyscreens in the blink of an eye, and little heaters, and lights that dimmed, and roofs that popped up in 15 seconds and tables that popped on outside in ten, and hot showers and other marvellous things. And there was still space for that little coffee machine.

And then we found a beauty – a simply marvellous, almost new campervan with everything that opens and shuts which is oh so clean and sparkly, but which costs about as much as years of extravagant, fully inclusive holidays, or even a significant proportion of a new home.

And therein lies the problem.

It’s a bloody big investment, this campervan thing, and you can do a hell of a lot of alternative travel with the money that we’re thinking of pouring into the purchase of one. And that’s even before you consider on-road and running costs,  and then chuck in some extra dollars to cover the park accommodation costs you’ll encounter, unless you’re way out in the sticks, and then there’s that Wolf Creek type fear again.

Now Mr T is constantly running the numbers through his head, taking into account our adjusted price bracket, and trying to turn it into a completely fiscal, objective decision – which of course, it is not. It’s not just about money, it’s about the lifestyle. Right? Once  that van is there in the garage (which it actually won’t quite fit into, incidentally – so that’s another cost to fix that), it will be tempting us, luring us, tantalising us, with thoughts of rollicking road trips and adventures into the unknown, and we’ll be so much more inclined to just pop in and go.

Or … we could just fly over to Perth or up to Cairns, because Jesus, that’s a hell of a long way to drive, and stay for a fortnight in some fancy-pants places instead, like resorts or whole spacious apartments with verandahs and marble bathrooms, and still be no worse off. Maybe better.

Ahhhhhh.

I thought we’d decided, but now the jury is out.

Can anyone help?

 

 

 

 

 

Sawtell’s Abicus – counting the positives

Tags

Abicus, Restaurant review, roadtrip NSW, Sawtell

A newcomer to the Sawtell dining scene is Abicus, a casual but sleek restaurant at the roundabout at the end of the main street. Behind its banks of exterior glass windows and dressed in timbers, white walls and splashes of green, the space says cafe – crisp, cool, clean – but the food says restaurant and indicates a chef who clearly knows what he’s doing.

The food is contemporary and thoughtful without trying to be too precious. For entrees, marrying pepper and lime squid with coconut and pineapple brought an unexpected sweet zing to the plate, along with memories of beach holidays, while the lashings of greenery in the form of pak choy and cucumber balanced the saltiness of the vinaigrette of the lobster ravioli nicely. And didn’t it look fresh and appealing?

The native fish dish (snapper) was light and fresh and well matched with the richer Persian flavours of harrisa and a touch of lemon yogurt, dutch carrots and fried cauli on the edges, although the very centre was undercooked and remained on the plate, unremarked on clearing. The pork belly was beautifully rendered and served well by the smooth celeriac puree and other flavours.  And what a welcome relief to find there were sufficient vegetables served with main meals to make them complete affairs in themselves without requiring the add-on sides.

A mid-week visit meant that the restaurant was quiet, but it also meant that it was ‘locals’ night’ with a good value choice of two courses for $45 or three for $55 on offer, even though as interstaters we were far from locals. If only our fellow Canberrans had known they too could have escaped the winter cold and scored a deal at the same time. If you can’t make choices or you have big appetites, there’s also degustation option as well.

I can’t normally manage a three courser, but couldn’t resist the temptation of ‘white chocolate mousse, local passionfruit, meringue, toasted coconut, coconut sorbet’ at the end. That’s what happens when someone puts all your favourite things on one plate and tells you about it. And I’m so pleased I succumbed. There’s a chocolate option too for those with more stamina. The restaurant is fully licensed but they’ll let you BYO for $12 a bottle. We did.

Abicus follows another restaurant in the same location with quite a reputation for good food so it has big shoes to fill but it’s covering the ground pretty well with generous servings of well-balanced and interesting flavours, without too much fuss but presented with finesse.

Apparently they also do events and corporate catering.

I wonder why they spelled it Abicus though?

 

The reawakening of Newrybar – hidden treasure of the hinterland

Tags

Byron Bay, Harvest Restaurant, hinterland, Newrybar, Newrybar Mercants, NSW destinations, shopping, The Shed, travel

This quaint little township nestled in the green hinterland of northern New South Wales is just a short drive from bustling coastal Byron Bay but exists on another timescale and mentality, and is thriving on its recent extension into good food and beautiful things.

Here you will leave behind the surfers and backpackers to mingle instead with an older crowd, more likely to be dressed in linen than boardies, and taking life at a slower place and savouring the small moments and the gourmet treats.

At the heart of this hamlet (just the word ‘hamlet’ makes my heart sing) is Harvest and its various food-based enterprises concentrating on fresh and local – an inviting and innovative restaurant, an artisan 100 year old bakery and gourmet deli next door, and a tiered-organic edible garden for supplying the aforementioned restaurant – all housed in a series of restored rustic and charming historic buildings. The weekend breakfasts have quite a reputation. And the spaces also transform into magical settings for events and weddings.

When you’re done with eating and stocking up on gourmet delights in the deli or you’ve had your caffeine hit (excellent coffee by the way), you can wander across the road to a collection of lovely shops to while away a bit more time, and meet some of the local dogs.

Antiques and things of old mixed in with modern gifts and newly created furniture pieces from The Shed (formerly Paul’s shed), and a whole world of shopping pleasure at the Newrybar Merchants, a collective of local artists and curators of beautiful things who’ve put together a whole world of shopping delights under one roof. A florist, a bookseller, an art gallery, a gorgeous collection of homewares and furnishings, things that smell delicious, and clothes for him and her and the little ones, including every shade of cream imaginable. Ah – heaven in a shop!

I think I’ll let the photos do the talking.

We didn’t stay long, but long enough to know we have to go back and rectify our failed plans to eat at the restaurant, and maybe try some of the locally grown macadamias.

Foodies and shoppers – put this place on your list!

Next time I’m definitely planning to stay over.

Keeping the kids cosy and amused in Canberra: five ways

Tags

ACT Public Libraries, Canberra, Keeping warm, kids in Canberra, libraries, museums, Visit Canberra, winter entertainment, winter hideouts

Even with its blue sunny skies, let’s be clear – Canberra’s winters can get pretty nippy. On days of grey skies and drizzles when you have little ones in tow, even if they do belong to someone else, it pays to have a couple of indoor (read: warm) venues to turn to for relief. When the energy level starts to spike, the cooped up craziness hits fever pitch, and small, squealing small people become possessed banshees, it’s time to make an escape.

That’s why it’s amazing to live in a city of museums and libraries. Cast aside any notions you might harbour about museums just dangling skeletons from ceilings and housing dusty things in glass boxes. They are marvellous places which think about kids and provide educational, interesting and warm spaces, and usually for free. Winning, Canberra.

Here are five of my favourites.

PlayUp

PlayUp is a hidden treasure at the Australian Museum of Democracy, and is all about getting the kids involved. There’s room after room of activities and entertainment: chalk boards, craft tables, foam blocks, shelves of books to be read in colourful beanbags, puppet shows to be created, and culinary delights to be cooked in the kaleidescope cubby. The changing exhibitions are based on the United Nations’ Convention on the rights of the child, so the kids are absorbing important stuff without even knowing it. Currently showing is a shelter theme, which in practical kid-terms means they get to let their imagination run wild and play house with the finest of play items. It also means they trash their house instead of yours, and everyone is happy.

Grab a coffee on the way in or out at the Terrace Cafe (but don’t take it into PlayUp – they don’t like that because it gets messy), or if they kids are older take part in one of the Museum’s other tours and events or play dress ups next door to the Play Up room. Who doesn’t love donning a cape and crown every now and then?

Cost: Free after $2 adult or $1 child entry (over 5 years) to Old Parliament House.

NGA Play

The National Gallery has a changing playroom, based on current exhibitions, where kids are encouraged to take part, explore with their hands and get creative. The current one based on the work of contemporary Indigenous artist, Reko Rennie, is an explosion of colour and pattern (often a traditional diamond) and is on until 3 December. There’s shapes and stamps and drawing on ipads, and you can even inadvertently take a photo of yourself to include in said artwork and somehow have it arrive on your email. That was a surprise.

I’m a bit sad I missed the first one based on the Versailles exhibition as I would have fancied being a queen for the day, but that’s what you get when you snooze.

Watch their Kids and Families webpage for other kids’ events, especially during school holidays.

Cost: Free, all ages, kids must be accompanied so don’t even think about dumping them and going to have a calm look around the gallery by yourself. Open 10-5pm.

The Australian War Memorial

It’s perhaps a strange concept taking small children to a place which remembers our sullied war history, past and present, and honours those who took part. Part of me wants to protect them from the horrid reality, another wants to cultivate their respect and eventual understanding and compassion. But the War Memorial takes its social responsibility very seriously and the telling is done with care and concern for the young.

The memorial has special activities during school holidays, and a changing program of other kid-centric stuff happening. Take for example, the special 30-minute Story Time for preschool kids (big brothers and sisters welcome) on Fridays at 10.30 am, on from 7 July to 25 August where storytellers bring tales to life with puppets. Or check out the Discovery Zone where kids get to climb in a helicopter or wander through a submarine, or be cast back to the days of family life during the world wars. Still getting my head around the war concept though and taking care not to make the whole thing a big adventure, so be open to follow up discussions.

Grab a coffee on your way out at Poppy’s cafe on the grounds.

National Museum of Australia

Underneath that soaring orange arch at the edge of Lake Burley Griffin lurks our very own national museum dedicated to telling stories through objects and words. There are many interesting items to wander through, though holding the attention of the very young is more difficult. For the older kids 5 to 13 years, the dedicated and aptly named kids’ space, Kspace, offers an interactive screen-based journey back to a time past, all while in the guise of your own bespoke time-travelling robot. Best for small groups (for teams) but you can fly solo if you want. It was a bit ambitious for Miss 3 who was happier to roam (run) around the outside Garden of Dreams, but that defeats the purpose of finding indoor spaces on winter days, doesn’t it?

Like all good Canberra museums, the NMA pays special attention to school holiday times with lots of interesting stuff on offer. Check out their events page for what’ coming up.

Cost: Free, open 9am to 5pm daily

ACT Libraries

It seems no one tells you to shush any more at libraries. Not only do they want you to visit and borrow books, they want you to have fun and participate, especially if you’re a kid. Libraries have a whole range of cool stuff like Giggle and Wiggle – songs, stories, games and fun for 0-2 year olds, Story Times for 3 to 5 year olds, and a plethora of activities during the school holidays.

And even if a rainy day doesn’t coincide with an event, you can also pop in anytime for an outing or bit of reading time. Or you can browse the books, DVDs and music and let the little ones pick out some things to take home for later moments of craziness, perhaps just before dinner time.

And, you guessed it – it’s all free! Perhaps with the exception of some school holiday activities, and not accounting for library overdue fines if your little one revels in hiding CDs down air vents or similar.

So Canberrans, cast aside those fears of rainy days aside. You are saved.

Whoever said public institutions were boring?

 

 

The colours of autumn in Canberra

Tags

Autumn, autumn colours, colour spash, colours of Canberra, fall, seasons, VisitCanberra

Canberra is always spectacular in autumn – a blaze of burnt oranges, golds and ambers with splashes of scarlet across the whole city- but this year was more spectacular than most.

Milder temperatures and lack of hard rain meant the leaves changed hue while still clinging to the limbs that bred them. They hung on, and on, and on.

Then suddenly it was over and within days the frost reminded what winter would bring.

Autumn, you were a delight, and I was sad to see you go.

An unexpected trip to hospital

Tags

emergency, Hospital, hospital food

Last week an unexpected trip to Emergency evolved into a four night stay in hospital. I now have a renewed sympathy for those that have to linger there longer, and a marvellous appreciation for the silence of my bedroom.

It started without fanfare and gradually progressed until it involved three separate medical teams, much puzzlement, and eons of waiting. Oh, how patient you have to be when you’re a patient and at the mercy of the timetables of others. I KNOW they’re busy, I KNOW it’s an emergency department, but why do two hours have to elapse between getting blood results back and someone making the call to bring in a specialist? Because when you see body parts expanding and changing colour by the hour before your eyes, it gets a little nerve-racking and irritating when you can’t seem to get attention. All it took to get hubbie to fly home in a flap, abandoning the car interstate, was a couple of measured text messages and a phone call, but it took more persistence and just a little bit of crying to get the attention of others.

Texts began flying between family members with pictorial attachments of my swelling foot.

Sympathy arrived immediately.

‘Thank goodness,’ Moo texted. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘I was expecting this.’

I was admitted and settled in my iron bed in a shared ward, somehow convinced this was quite possibly the most delightfully comfortable bed I’d ever been in, all wrapped up and bunkered down as I was. There weren’t even any drugs involved in the forming of that opinion so it must have been the shock and the fever. So there I lay all relaxed and dreamy, waiting for the quiet of night to take me off gently to Neverland. Instead I was treated to a light and sound spectacular to shame Sydney Harbour on New Year’s Eve.

We all know nurses are very important, and they have to check this and check that, every couple of hours, every hour, all over the ward. They’re very good at that, but they’re not so good at doing it quietly. They clippity clop, squeaky squelch, they push carts on groaning wheels, they talk in normal voices because it’s their day time, and they turn on all the lights to make it appear like daytime. Thermometers taking temps – bing. IVs when they’ve finished – beep. Patients pressing buzzers across wards and neon signs flashing from the roof to make the announcement official. And it bings, and keeps binging, every five bloody seconds until someone comes along and turns it off. And when they do and just when you start drifting off, bing it goes again. And the lights flash on like a nuclear blast, then someone’s typing somewhere. Tippy tippy tippy, just outside your bed. Perhaps I was mistaken and I’m in a Vegas casino. Ah, at last the lights have been dimmed and you’re drifting again – until a seering light directly above pierces your eyelids. Wrong light. Sorry. Then it’s on next door – someone is being admitted at 3am and now it’s his startling light burning into your eyeballs. Relax, he’s gone to sleep, but he’s left his light on. And the guy two beds down is snoring demonically at 5am and shaking the separating curtains as he exhales, while his television blares in the background. You’re clearly asleep, buddy. Why the hell do you need your goddam television on? Meantime, the bells continue to ping.

Ah, the bells, the bells….

And then of course there is the food. Surely a ploy to encourage folk to move on as quickly as they can. It’s pretty useful having a very caring hubbie around to minister for my culinary needs, especially when he’s a foodie and understands the grief that can be inflicted by hospital food and the therapeutic value of offerings of delicious morsels and special treats. Prosciutto and baby bocconcini anyone? or lemon tart?

A couple of culinary examples to choose between. Take your pick.

Now meet Al. He comes along so we can all channel Paul Simon and sing ‘You can call me Al’ in unison but more importantly to ensure the surgical staff don’t do anything untoward on the wrong leg. Leg graffiti was therefore warmly welcomed.

As too, the delightful fashions supplied. Dressed for success. Who doesn’t look hot in a cap and paper undies?

In hospitals, there is much discussion about bodily functions, fluids and ablutions. In a shared ward, much of that pertains to the bodily functions and fluids of others, which is just too much information. Sometimes even earphones don’t help. Only in hospital can you openly fart to your heart’s content without even the pretence of trying to soften the blow, as often and as loudly as possible, without qualm or embarrassment. In fact, you’re likely to be applauded for your fine efforts. And the sights can be jarring too. The vision of hairy-bummed men shuffling past my curtain in wayward hospital gowns clutching poles with bags may be permanently seered onto my retinas. I refrained from photographing that.

But as the swelling subsided, the mood lifted and we might have got a bit silly.

Disclaimer: No medical personnel were involved in the taking of these photos.

Meanwhile, little Miss 3 was not aware of the shenanigans at the hospital and the apparent recovery and was still nursing fears about the ‘worm’ (germ) in Marsie’s foot. Bless her cotton socks, she was wondering whether a leaving party would be required for me. That’s kid-code for a funeral. Not yet, darling girl.

Above photos notwithstanding, there were times I felt ordinary, and looked worse. Here’s proof.

And there was some definite suffering.

And times when I got irrationally upset. Those compression stockings would surely be useful for future air flight use, even if they did appear to almost cut off circulation in my left leg after a couple of hours. And those things are bloody expensive.

Rest assured, despite the frivolity that crept into my cubicle by Day 4, we were ever mindful of the very sick patients surrounding us, and kept our chuckles in check. It was a serious place to be and far from pleasant for most, as the midnight agonising groans did sometimes attest. While I was kept in high spirits by constant visits, attention, texts, and care, I left feeling terribly sad for a very ill women who went off for dangerous surgery without even one family member present to wish her well, or potentially to bid her farewell. How blessed I was to have constant company and care from my own family. I hope she did well.

After days of interminable waits (at least there was wifi, even though I may have temporarily selectively lost my ability to read)

and much too much sharing of the stories and sounds of others, I was pleased to be home.

The first thing I did was rush (okay, limp) to the scales. Five days of sparingly picking through limp food under plastic cloches and four separate nil-by-mouths. At least a bit of weight loss would be my reward! Alas no. Nada. Not a kilo gone. Not even half.

At least I slept well that night. In fact, over twelve hours straight – in my perfectly silent, perfectly dark room. Not a single bing to be heard.

Praise Lord for hospitals and medical staff. And praise Lord even more when you can bid them farewell. And did I mention antibiotics? A world without them is unimaginable. Hope the other guests are now likewise home and doing okay.