Monthly Archives: November 2018

Thursday Doors…Building 30.

Welcome to Another Thursday Doors.

My apologies for posting on a Friday. However, I had an appointment down at Royal North Shore Hospital and planned to take the camera along and thought I’d share some fresh doors with you.

Royal North Shore Hospital is one of Sydney’s best teaching hospitals and for me it’s become a one-stop shop for all the weird and wonderful complications of my rare autoimmune disease, dermatomyositis. The hospital is located across from St Leonards Station on the North Shore and up a hill so steep that it’s likely to induce a coronary in even a fit person.

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What’s going on behind these closed windows?

Anyway, I was heading up the hill, when I spotted this weird fabric veneer over one of the hospital’s heritage buildings…Building 30. I’m not sure if you’ve seen anything like this yourself, but they’ve seemingly printing heritage architectural features onto a piece of fabric, which is camouflaging the building works going on “behind closed doors”.

Naturally, I was rather suspicious. Clearly, they’re trying to hide something and that something more than a messy building site? What is going on?

What’s more, being on the look out for interesting doors today, I was most concerned that this vogue-style veneer didn’t have any doors. There were only windows. This was a serious oversight. An act of discrimination.

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Hey, I found a door!

However, behind all those windows, I actually did manage to find a door and I’m sure you’ll agree that it was probably best left covered up. After all, it doesn’t really encourage you to trust this place with your life or your loved ones, does it?

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This door hardly instills you with confidence, does it?!!

When I arrived home tonight, I mentioned this building site veneer to my husband and he said he’s seen it on building sites around Macquarie University. Apparently, it helps reduce graffiti and bill posting, although it still seems like a massive cover-up to me. What do you think?

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Front View, Building 30.

This has been another contribution to Thursday Doors hosted by Norm 2.0. Why don’t you come and join us and share a few of your favourite doors. It’s a lot of fun and helps you see parts of the world you’ll never get to visit.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Weekend Coffee Share… 26th November, 2018.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

Well, before I get much further, I should tell you it was much husband’s birthday earlier in the week and we had a wonderful lunch out together at a restaurant across from our local beach. The weather was stunning and we had such a relaxing time. Well, it would’ve been more relaxing if a group of young whippersnappers weren’t discussing their investment strategies and how much money you should leave in the pot. I was very tempted to ask them to ****up and tell them that some people actually like to enjoy life. Go out for lunch to get away from all of that. I can guarantee that when I was their age, I wasn’t discussing investment strategies. However, eventually the bright sun forced them inside and out of earshot.

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By the way, my apologies on the food and beverage front today. About all I can offer you is tea, coffee, water and some great music. I’m sitting out at my desk listening to Ian Cooper: Hard Axe to Follow featuring  violinist Ian Cooper, guitarist Tommy Emmanuel and Maestro Tommy Tycho. This where my story gets rather humbling, which is hardly surprising for someone who bills themselves as: “The Closet Violinist”. Even if you’re shy, if you have a modicum of talent, someone eventually drags you out of the closet into some kind of public arena. Wants to bless the world with your magic. Not so for a poor closet player. They either leave the door, shut or slam it in your face. People can be so insensitive!!

Anyway, as I said, I’m listening to Ian Cooper Ian Cooper and this piece of music is vaguely familiar and moving out of the background, until I’m wracking my brain trying to work out what it is. Indeed, I’m even glaring at the back of the cover, and still not getting any wiser. Clearly, I should’ve finished my cup of tea before I began this simple, yet apparently ambitious task. The peanut butter sandwich clearly wasn’t enough either. As it turns out, much to my embarrassment, they were playing a reinvention of Dvořák’s Humoresque . I say much to my embarrassment, because I’ve been learning this piece for over the last three months. I guess it’s a bit like when you’re introduce two close friends, and have a temporary memory lapse and can’t remember their name.

Meanwhile, the Closet Violinist is hard at work. For those of you with even a toe in the performing arts, you’ll know that the end of the year is concert season. So, I’ll actually be coming out of the closet and will be playing a duet of Danny Boy with my teacher at the end of year concert. Last week, she gave me a big tick of approval and said she’d be stoked if I played like that at the concert. Yet, I’m still working on it.

Perhaps, I shouldn’t be surprised that practicing more, produces more practice and consequent improvement. It’s so exciting to be polishing off a handful of pieces and I’ll soon be moving from the Suzuki Book 3 onto Book 4, where I start learning concertos. It struck me that even if I’m only learning concertos, that I can’t keep saying that I can’t play the violin anymore. We Aussies can be an understated bunch. So, I think I’d now describe my playing as “could be better, could be worse”. How’s that for confidence and self-esteem? To be honest, I’m just grateful when my violin doesn’t squeak or do its infamous cockatoo screech. While the violin can be such an incredibly beautiful songbird (even when I play it), it can also be so cantankerous. Yet, I must say I was encouraged recently when a newfound friend, who is an incredibly talented musician, said all musicians wrestle with their instruments. By the way, as you may be aware there are definite parallels between mastering an instrument and conducting a passionate love affair…the love, the intensity, arguments, silence and all too often a parting of ways possibly after a physical break of some description.

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Our Daughter performing her contemporary solo at a local nursing home. Photo: Dancin Mates.

This weekend, however, it wasn’t my turn to shine. My daughter performed with the Dancin Mates Dance Team at a local nursing home. They did the opening number from the upcoming annual concert and they each performed their solos. It’s been awhile since my grandparents were living in nursing homes now and this is the only time I visit one these days. I’m really pleased my daughter is involved with these performances, as it’s important to try and cheer up people who might be doing it tough and bring a ray of sunshine indoors to people who may not get out all that often. Even just being themselves and wearing their dazzling costumes would be enough to brighten someone’s day but then to see them dance, is utterly magical. Some of these young people are in the process of transitioning into the professional dance world and so they weren’t just seeing people with nowhere else to go. My parents also came up to watch which was very special for us.

There have also been some challenging times over the last few weeks. My health is doing well and my endoscopy and colonoscopy haven’t picked up anything too nasty. However, I have a friend battling advanced Motor Neurone Disease and things with her have been really difficult lately. There were a couple of days where I was so angry about it and ended up finding solace on my violin, which isn’t something I’ve consciously done before. After all, as a beginner, all that screeching is hardly relaxing. I have also been listening to some violin music and that’s been very cathartic as well. I think the tone of the violin, especially when it hits the high notes, really releases the anguished or troubled cry of the soul. Any thoughts?

I did a bit of baking through the week. It started out with attempting to make a birthday cake for my husband using GF flour. I don’t know what happened because what went into the cake doesn’t resemble the recipe and then the cake didn’t rise. While I was waiting to decide its fate, the dog decided to help herself and Geoff heard the tin crash on the floor and half the cake was gone by the time he got there. Golly. These dogs are quick. Fortunately, there had been two layers. By this stage, the logical thing was to throw it out. However, I must believe in raising the dead after all. I broke the cake up and decided to do a variation of a family dessert…Chocolate In-Betweens. In the original you have chocolate mouse in between sponge fingers which have been dashed with sherry. In this version, there was chocolate cake smothered in cream, splashed with Frangelico and then covered in the chocolate mouse filling from the original cake recipe. The patient was removed to the fridge to rest. Much to our surprise, the result was incredibly scrumptious and will be the beginning of a new thing.

In terms of blogging, I’ve been a bit quiet this week and only participated in Friday Fictioneers with: The Secret

Well, on that note, I’m heading off. I hope you’ve had a great week. This has been another Weekend Coffee Share, hosted by Eclectic Alli.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

The Secret…Friday Fictioneers.

 

“I hate you!” Alice screeched at her parents. She might’ve been difficult, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew this was another attempt to force her to “self-calm”, as the therapist put it. They’d tried everything…mediation, relaxation, mindfulness, yoga. Yet, instead of bringing inner peace, they’d only fueled an endless, inner rage. She had to scream. Smash something. Carve a stream into her arm to let the tension out.

This time, they let her run.  After all, there was nothing more to say. Yet, they still clung onto a completely irrational hope, that somehow their only beloved daughter would find her way back out of the darkness and into the light.

……

My humble apologies for going over the word limit. I don’t know why Dale’s beautiful photo prompted such despair in my piece this week. However, I’ve never been good at meditation or sitting still.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson.

Best wishes,

Rowena

The Silence After the Storm…Friday Fictioneers.

The police found Mandi McDonald’s Commodore Stationwagon 500 metres downstream. She and the two children aged eight and six were deceased. The storm had hit Toowoomba with such fury. Mandi had been driving the kids home from school, and the car was swept away in the surging currents. Her husband was distraught. Lost all his family in an instant. No one knew how he was going to get through it. Or, even if he could. They all came to the funeral, and didn’t mean to stay away.  They just couldn’t find the words and didn’t know what to say.

….

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

A Walk in Redfern, Sydney…Thursday Doors.

Welcome to Another Thursday Doors! This week, we’re off for a walk through part of Sydney’s Redfern, which is located 3 kilometres south of the Sydney central business district. The suburb is named after surgeon William Redfern, who was granted 100 acres (0.40 km2) of land in this area in 1817 by Governor Lachlan Macquarie. You catch the train to Redfern Station to get to the University of Sydney and the footpaths are heavily populated by streams of students.

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Well you might ask why we’re going on a doorscursion around the backstreets of Redfern, when we haven’t been to the Sydney Opera House yet. Of course, if I were planning my life around notable doors, that would be a very good place to start.   However, as much as I admire doors and could even support a philosophy of “Doors for Doors Sake”, that’s a luxury I can’t afford at the moment. Rather, I’m needing to be pragmatic. It’s more of a case where the door follows me, rather than me following the door. That said, there doors are quite stationary and not moving anywhere so I still need to go to them. I just can’t go too far out of my way.

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This week, we’re jumping back in time, returning to the Carer’s Day Out, which was held at the Redfern Community Centre. As it turns out, it could’ve been named: Door Day Out. As you may recall, I’ve already written about returning to my old front door at Abercrombie Street, Chippendale and photographed swags of doors around my former stomping ground, the University of Sydney.

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Today, we’re alighting at Redfern Station and onto Lawson Street right into Abercrombie and back down into Caroline Street and into the park outside the Redfern Community Centre. This area is very much a celebration of Australia’s urban Indigenous culture, but it has also been a dangerous no go zone. I have struggled trying to juggle these two extremes as I bring you down here and actually felt quite a lot of relief to be able to walk around these backstreets safely, which wasn’t the case when I lived here in 1988. I have read various views about this area and in particular “The Block” and for me the bottom line is that for many people this area has been home. Their home might have been on struggle street but it was/is still their home and deserves respect. No one likes having high and mighty outsiders coming in and telling them that their home is crap. I know our place isn’t perfect and after years of fighting my health/disability situation, it’s not what I envisaged either. I know I wouldn’t like someone coming in here and highlighting all it’s faults with none of its strengths.

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Redfern is the birthplace of the urban Aboriginal civil rights movement in Australia. The establishment of Aboriginal-founded and controlled services in the 1970s, such as the Aboriginal Medical Service, the Aboriginal Legal Service and the Aboriginal Housing Company, provided inspiration for self-determination for many Aboriginal communities nationwide. 1972: Redfern-based Aboriginal activists establish a protest camp, for justice and land rights, on the lawns of Parliament House in Canberra. This ‘Aboriginal Tent Embassy’ was a critical political action in the Aboriginal struggle. 1973: ‘The Block’ is established and attracts an international reputation as the bedrock of Aboriginal activism in Australia. 1978: Radio Redfern, housed at the Black Theatre (now Gadigal House) provides a voice for Aboriginal people in Redfern. 1992: Keating speech given at Redfern Park. ‘Before that, Australians did not know what was going on in their own country. We shaped that speech!’ —Redfern elder https://www.pmc.gov.au/sites/default/files/publications/indigenous/empowered-communities/alt/description-redfern.html

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A tribute to The Block, housing development.

The Block would have to be the best-known, most notorious and controversial landmark in Redfern. Probably the best known Redfern’s great claim to fame was: The Block. Houses on The Block were purchased over a period of 30 years by the Aboriginal Housing Company (AHC) for use as a project in Aboriginal-managed housing. The focus of life in The Block has always been Eveleigh Street, which is its eastern border, with railway lines on the other side of that street. ‘The Block’ is an area in the immediate vicinity of Redfern station bounded by Eveleigh, Caroline, Louis and Vine Streets.

So, when you look at the front doors of Redfern, you can know those doors have endured and seen quite a lot and built considerable resilience. That they’ve also part of a community. They don’t stand alone.

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Caroline Street, Redfern.

Clearly, I’m just passing through Redfern and don’t expect to revisit many of these streets until I’m back here next year for another Carer’s Day Out, which could well be the case. I had a fantastic day out.

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This has been another contribution to Thursday Doors hosted by Norm 2.0. Why don’t you come and join us and share a few of your favourite doors. It’s a lot of fun and helps you see parts of the world you’ll never get to visit.

Best wishes,

Rowena

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Thought I’d let Puss have the last word, even if he/she might’ve been sitting around the corner in Abercrombie Street.

Weekend Coffee Share…12th November, 2018.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

Well, I have to warn you upfront that last week wasn’t the best and was actually rather difficult. However, it improved as it went on and I was filled with an over-riding sense of gratitude. An appreciation of the love and support that people have given us. I’m also quite conscious of how different things might’ve been, which suddenly made everything look rosy especially after the general anaethesetic.

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It’s funny how just putting on the hospital whites makes me look like I’m on death’s door.

Last Thursday, I had an endoscopy and colonoscopy at Royal North Shore Hospital in Sydney. The results were fine and I didn’t expect anything nasty. Yet, I guess there’s always that caution when they send the camera where the sun don’t shine. By the way, I’d like to encourage anyone who has been putting off have either of these procedures to face the music. I’d heard horror stories about taking the stuff and let’s face it, most of us are rather private about our privates. However, I was knocked out for the procedure and it was worth it for the peace of mind.

However, the lead up to the colonoscopy was quite stressful. I was freaking out about stuffing up the preparations. In hindsight, they’re not that complicated but I was quite worried I’d forget and eat something I shouldn’t. However, I was on my best behaviour and a good little Vegemite after all. No dramas.

Unfortunately, one of my kids became quite stressed about the whole thing and let’s just say “needed to have a chat”. This resulted in a day waiting for him to be assessed by which point, he was fine and had perked up. Meanwhile, I couldn’t find a parking spot at the hospital and was driving round and round the multi-storey carpark. Not finding anything, I was heading back down and hit a concrete divider on the exit ramp. Talk about things going from bad to worse. I’d cracked the radiator and my kid tells me that the engine’s on fire and smoke’s rising out of the bonnet. By this point, I was totally paralyzed, numb and couldn’t even consider where the hazard lights or the button for the bonnet were located. Fortunately, child stepped in and went for help. Don’t laugh but the tow truck was already there! Problem solved. Car parked.

 

I felt absolutely shell-shocked after all of that and am still in recovery mode. We went to a friend’s place for a birthday Friday night and that was fantastic and yesterday I was on duty at the sailing club.Well, somewhat on duty. I ended up sitting upstairs in the restaurant venting my spleen in ink. I also managed to get some photos of Geoff on his sailing course. I really wished I could’ve been out there sailing as well but these small boats are too much for me physically and I need more of a champagne yachting experience.

While I was at the hospital, I managed to finish a fantastic book by investigative journalist, Leigh Sales, called: Any Ordinary Day. It looks at how people respond to extreme trauma and also looks at the interaction between chance and destiny. It really got up close and personal to a series of truly shocking tragedies and unravelled at least some of the threads. I highly recommend it!

 

In terms of blogging last week, for Thursday Doors I walked up Bridge Street, Sydney up to the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, a route my mother followed for many years as a music student at the Con: Bridge Street Sydney- Thursday Doors.As I was walking up the hill, I particularly noticed the imposing clock tower peering over the Department of Lands building and thought of my mother and other students racing up the hill and being taunted by the clock: “You’re late! Late for an important date!” I also participated in Friday fictioneers with Barking Up the Wrong Tree

Well, I feel myself running out of steam now so I’ll head off. How was your week? I hope you have a good one.

This has been another Weekend Coffee Share, hosted by Eclectic Alli.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

Bridge Street, Sydney…Thursday Doors.

Welcome back to to Another Thursday Doors.

Before we touch down in the Sydney CBD, I thought I’d better give you a map and help you get your bearings.

Map of The Rocks NSW 2000

You might recall that last week I attended concert pianist Gerard Willems Twilight Recital at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music with my parents. On the way, I went on a detour (or “Doorscursion”) via The Rocks and then walked up Bridge Street to the “Con”. Last week, I shared The Rocks leg of the journey and this week, I’m taking you from George Street to the Conservatorium via Bridge Street.

Bridge Street isn’t one of Sydney’s most famous streets. Yet, although in this instance it was getting me from A to B, I was also retracing my mother’s footsteps on this journey. As a student back in the 60s, she used to walk up Bridge Street on her way to the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. I could picture her almost running up Bridge Street possibly even running a bit late, especially when I spotted the imposing clock face peering down in judgement from the Public Lands Building. So, it was special to walk up Bridge Street and feel her with me, particularly as Mum and Dad were both meeting up with me at the concert. It was much more enjoyable to be able to do this walk while she’s still living than as a memorial.

So, I was just lucky that Bridge Street had such a plethora of stunning sandstone colonial buildings and some pretty photogenic doors. That said, there was also much to distract me. Bridge Street is full of history and so much phenomenal architecture.

Only 500metres long, Bridge Street is one of Sydney’s earliest streets, and started out as a path from the Governor’s house (then in what became Bridge Street) to the Military Barracks in Wynyard. It was named after the first bridge built over Tank Stream. By the way, for those of you not familiar with the Tank Stream, when Captain Arthur Phillip sailed into Sydney Harbour in January 1788, searching for a new settlement site, one of his main requirements was a reliable fresh water supply. As he sailed around Bennelong Point, now the site of the Sydney Opera House, he saw a wide-mouthed stream running into Sydney Harbour. At high tide, the water was deep enough for schooners to go as far as present-day Bridge Street. Here Phillip established the new colony, the new city and the beginnings of European Australia. Unfortunately, the Tank Stream has long been a storm water drain (Source: Sydney Water

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The Metropolitan Hotel, 1 Bridge Street.

Our Journey begins at No. 1 Bridge Street…the Metropolitan Hotel, which unfortunately has a McDonald’s downstairs so no great door photographing opportunities here.

 

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Burns Philp Building  7 Bridge Street, Sydney. Built 1901.

While the Burns Philp building is incredibly grand and held my attention, my roving eye was soon drawn away by the magnificent clock tower across the road, which is perched so graciously above the Department of Lands Building at 22-33 Bridge Street.

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The Department of Lands Building

Large public clocks like these always intrigue me and too often loom over me as a bad omen: “I’m late! I’m late! Late for an important date.” Or worse still I remember waiting on Town Hall Steps on a Saturday night in my youth waiting to meet a date and there’s always that fear that they’re not going to show up and that preoccupation with the clock. I also think of how these clocks have withstood time and so many people must’ve walked up and down Bridge Street under the shadow of this clock and while they have passed on, it is still here.

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However, I’ve allowed myself to be distracted. I’m supposed to be focusing on doors instead of clocks. So, let me just close the door on that meandering train of thought and we’ll keep walking.

Well, it looks like I haven’t found a door at the Department of Lands yet. So, you’ll just have to hold onto that thought for a bit longer.

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Here it is. Front Door, Department of Lands Building, Bridge Street, Sydney.

Across the road from the Department of Lands Building, we come to Macquarie Place. Again, I apologize for a conspicuous absence of doors here. However, as many of you will agree, it seems a bit rude not to include door-free landmarks we stumble across along the way. Indeed, I don’t know about you, but I feel a bit rude saying something along the lines of:  “Sorry, I can’t mention you because you’re not a door.”

Anyway, getting back to Macquarie Place… It’s a small triangle of land which was formalised as an open space with the erection of an obelisk in 1818 by Governor Macquarie to mark the place from which public roads in the colony were measured. A sandstone Doric fountain was also erected the following year. A sandstone dwarf wall and iron palisade fence were built around the site, and although the railings were removed between 1905 and 1910, part of the wall remains. While this area was rather spacious back in the day, it now looks small, overcrowded and when you see the obelisk, you can’t help wondering what on earth it’s doing there.

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The Obelisk, Macquarie Place, in 1926.

As I’m walking up Bridge Street, it was pretty hard not to notice The Gallipoli Club which is under construction and fenced off by some rather bright and colourful murals, which are rather out of keeping with the more traditional, surrounding architecture.  Positioned alongside grand sandstone buildings, these murals stand out and look fantastic as a temporary thing. As much as blending the old and the new can be quite effective, I also think it’s good to preserve the character of a place, especially in Sydney where we don’t have a lot of historic buildings of this calibre.

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The Gallipoli Club, Loftus Street, Sydney just off Bridge Street.

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Construction Entrance, The Gallipoli Club.

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I have always loved these quaint terrace houses located at 39-47 Phillip Street, on the corner of Bridge and Phillip Streets. Built in 1867-9, they look like something time forgot surrounded by soaring skyscapers and even pre-date the imposing sandstone buildings nearby.

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The Industrial Relations Commission

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Southern Cross University at 117 Macquarie Street.

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Hotel Intercontinental, 117 Macquarie Street and on the corner of Bridge Street. The InterContinental Sydney rests within the Treasury Building of 1851 – the first purpose-built government office in Sydney.

From the Intercontinental, it’s just a short walk across the road to arrive at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music.

I hope you enjoyed this doorscursion along Bridge Street to the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, even if my definition of door was rather broad this week. I certainly enjoyed my photographic walk. However, as I was putting this together, I realized just how rushed and incomplete it was. That said, I’ve put a lot of work into this chunk of the story. Of course, you could write a book about all the magnificent buildings in Bridge Street and their stories, but I’ll leave that for someone else.

This has been another contribution to Thursday Doors hosted by Norm 2.0. Why don’t you come and join us and share a few of your favourite doors. It’s a lot of fun and helps you see parts of the world you’ll never get to visit.

I’m now off to make myself a cup of decaf tea and head to bed.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Featured image: The Powerhouse Museum, Sydney.