Weekend Coffee Share – 30th April, 2023.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

Sorry, I’ve been absent for a bit. Don’t know whether you’ve missed me and my particular blend of coffee, which of course has a rather Australian influence. Well, even if you haven’t missed me, my coffee or anything else Beyond the Flow has to offer, I’m back. The reason for my absence has largely been school holidays here which included houseminding at Cremorne Point in Sydney again and some health challenges.

Being back in Sydney and catching the ferries round the harbour again was truly fun. I’m sure the ferries go faster than they used to these days and they can pick up considerable speed and you need to hold onto your clothes because if you’re not careful they could easily blow away, which is more of a horror movie these days.

The Gap, Sydney.

I went back to Watson’s Bay, alone this time, and decided to have a go at climbing up the hill to The Gap via Robertson’s Park. I think the sign said it was about a 4 minutes walk but with my lung capacity I wasn’t sure how long it would take. I’d looked at the map and didn’t think it was that far but these things can be designed for the uber-fit and us mere mortal at the other end of the fitness spectrum can have a near death experience attempting a easy walk. Determination and experience recommended approaching this walk the same way you’d eat an elephant…one piece at a time. So one step at a time, I walked through Robertson Park and stopped at the top for a considerable breather which evolved into something of an immersion experience absorbing everything around me. I couldn’t help noticing that the buses parked at The Gap were sign posted to Watson’s Bay. Of course, you couldn’t have a bus heading straight to Australia’s most notorious suicide spot. It could be like the pied piper rounding up would be jumpers en route…obviously a terrible, terrible thing. At least this way they had to be more resourceful.

We also went to Newtown over in the inner-West. Miss was getting her nails done and goodness know why she had to travel all the way over there, but I used to hang out in Newtown when I was at Sydney University and was interested to go back.

Cafe Newtown

Besides, Newtown is home to one of Sydney’s most amazing and famous bookshops: Gould’s World of Books at 536 King Street opposite Alice Street and is something of a book lovers’ paradise. Established in Sydney, Australia, in 1967, Gould’s has books on books on books and I think they’re second hand and out of print special kind of books and they really support Australian and political literature. In some ways, it reminds me of the Shakespeare and Company Bookshop in Paris in on a much smaller, grungy Newtown kind of way. I think former owner Jay Gould and George Whitman would’ve got on rather well.

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Since coming home, I’ve been trying to clear some stuff out, which is never easy. Yet, at the same time, I’ve become really addicted to shopping at the Salvation Army Store online which really is way too good to be true. While it’s fun trawling through actually thrift shops and truly experiencing the full eclectic spectrum of their incredible treasure trove, this way I get to explore merch from all their stores and I can refine my search. For example it’s really good if there’s something specific you’re looking for and you can just pop back and see what they’ve got. They also have 50% off sales and they’re fantastic. You can even put things in your wishlist and wait until they hopefully drop in price and you can nab something you love as a double bargain. That is, unless you miss out. The other excitement, like any shopping online, is that you start having packages turn up. That’s so much fun. Half the time, I’ve forgotten what I’ve bought by the time the package arrives and I get a lovely surprise. Or, just a surprise. I bought a troll doll last week and it was so much bigger than expected. I called it “Rowie’s Folly”. He can go and join Big Bird on the shelf.

Pretty stoked with my new shirt and jeans.

Meanwhile, I am still experiencing chronic to acute shortness of breath, which could actually be interpreted as a good thing at times because I’m still breathing. Not sure what’s going on. I have an auto-immune disease called dermatomyositis and I developed Interstitial Lung Disease about 8 years ago as a side-effect of that. It was behaving itself fairly well until about 2 months ago, which wasn’t long after I’d had covid but I had been on the anti-virals and recovered well initially. I’ve also had a mind flare of the dermatomyositis so goodness knows what’s going on. However, on Tuesday I’m having tests and appointments with my rheumatologist and lung specialist. I doubt it’s going to be a great day and I’m bracing myself but I’m still not entirely sure what for yet. If my breathing has improved a bit maybe it can improve enough. If the dermatomyositis is still playing up, that could be intensive treatment. It’s a wait and see but I’d appreciate your prayers please.

Now, I’m just waiting for Miss to call. She’s working at McDonald’s tonight and I’ll be leaving shortly to pick her up.

Anyway, I hope you’ve all had a great week and have enjoyed the coffee.

This has been another Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Bridging The Gap…#99wordstories

April 24, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about the color of hope. Who is in need of hope and why? How can you use color to shape the story? Pick a color, any color. Go where the prompt leads!

“One day, I’ll jump off The Gap,” Martin muttered throwing up half a bottle of vodka. Equally drunk and disillusioned, no one battered an eyelid.

Now, they’d all gone to uni, while Martin still drifted in between the lines and beyond a diagnosis.

“Take these,” his GP said.

“How many at once?” He’d been tempted but didn’t ask.

Today was it, but first his last supper… fish and chips from Doyle’s.

Sitting in the park… perfect blue skies, Sydney Harbour, rainbow lorikeets flying and chirping in the sun.

Nothing had changed. Yet it had.

Martin caught the bus home.

….

99 words.

The magnificent View from Robertson’s Park across the road from The Gap toward the city.

The Gap is Sydney’s infamous suicide spot. Located on the Southern Head of Sydney Harbour it is part of Watson’s Bay, which is an absolutely beautiful location with a beach and stunning harbour views. I recently caught the ferry to Watson’s Bay and walked up the hill simply to photograph The Gap and as I stopped in Robertson’s Park across the road, a large flock of rainbow lorrikeets was flying through the park and the air was filled with their chirpy singing. I guess people don’t talk about The Gap too much, but I’d never heard anyone mention there were rainbow lorrikeets there and I truly wondered how anyone could come here, experience these birds and then end it all. Of course, that’s a rather simplistic view and to be honest, I am fighting to save my life instead of trying to cut it short. However, I have experienced acute ongoing anguish and the temptation to somehow eject from it all. Yet, at the same time, these days I try to encourage others and try to take the edge off their load where I can. Then again, I’m a little more mature these days and have what I think is called perspective.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Rainbow Lorikeet

Home From Work- Friday Fictioneers: 30th March, 2023.

Right from birth, Karen had never understood her creative, dreamy daughter, Matilda. A marine biologist, her entire world was classified into the natural order of things while Matilda didn’t fit into any category, and she couldn’t get a diagnosis!

“Matilda!” she screamed after stepping on a wet painting.

Battling long covid, now more than ever she questioned:“Why couldn’t I have a normal child?”

Karen fell into her chair, immediately leaping to her feet. The neck of Matilda’s violin had snapped like a dead man hanging from a noose, and Karen had become “The Scream”.  

That was it! No more violin.

….

100 words PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood

I was delighted to see this week’s prompt as I play the violin, although I stop well short of calling myself a violinist these days. Practice had dropped off before my lessons stopped during covid, but I’ve been picking it up a bit again lately and am practicing Peter Allen’s hit: “I Still Call Australia Home”. My mother used to play it on the piano and I’m wanting to play it with her and I really do love the words of the song.

The Scream by Edvard Munch

When I was growing up, Mum would occasionally lose patience with the eccentricity of the rest of us and ask: “Why can’t this family be normal?” Mum played things pretty much by the book but the rest of us didn’t even know where to find it. As it turned out, in my mid-20’s I was diagnosed with hydrocephalus and had a shunt inserted to sort things out. Being creative, I wasn’t exactly “fixed” but I was a new improved version of myself and at least I wasn’t falling over all the time.

It wouldn’t surprise me if my husband had told me not to leave my violin on a chair in case someone sat on it; and I’m probably lucky my violin’s still in one piece.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff Fields at Addicted to Purple.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Violin Concert 2015.

Weekend Coffee Share: 26th March, 2023

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

Another week has just rushed past like an express train and I’m struggling to remember what happened. Or, perhaps it was more a case of being hit on the head a few times and I’m struggling to get my bearings. That’s probably more like it, because I haven’t exactly been busy in the traditional sense. More like hyper-distracted. Indeed, I’ve acquired a new, and very addictive distraction which involves shopping online at Salvo Stores. I’ve included a few of my more extraordinary finds for you to check out:

To be honest, I’ve needed a fair bit of distraction lately. Or, perhaps the reverse is true and that by distracting myself, I’m only shooting myself in the foot and now is actually the time to be uber-focused, vigilant and pedantically one-track minded. I don’t know but before this cryptic conversation with myself goes any further, I probably should spill the beans and bring you into the picture.

I’m not sure about how much I’ve said about what’s going on with my health atm. I have an auto-immune disease, dermatomyositis (DM) and associated fibrosis in my lungs, which is known as Interstitial Lung Disease (ILD). I developed the DM after the birth of my daughter and have been living with it for 17 years. The ILD developed about 10 years ago and had been largely contained but the fibrosis has gradually increased. The theory is that as long as the DM is in remission, the lungs will be stable. All was going well until a mix up with a script cut my medication in half and unlike many other scripts, I didn’t manage to lose this one. Bugger! Consequently, my autoimmune disease flared up a bit. IN the meantime, I had a respiratory virus in December and covid in January. Yet, I seemed to recover and had a wonderful time in January catching ferries and walking extensively around Sydney. So it’s hard to understand how I came to fall on my sword and end up so sick and desperately short of breath and my lung capacity dropping from 50% to 30% Not only that, I suddenly became my lung specialist’s best friend as he started exploring and sharing my case. That obviously spells TROUBLE!! Yet, at the same time, I’ve set out fiercely determined to heal myself. I’m going for a 10 minute walk most days and using a device called a respiratory exerciser where you inhale and try to raise three blue balls off the ground. At first, I could only raise one but now I’m getting the third one up some of the time and that has to be a good sign. We are also praying. I would probably prefer to pray for God to wave a magic wand and instant make me better. However, he has a wonderful sense of humour and I know I have to do my share too and that’s the exercise. I should also do more singing. After all it’s singers, swimmers and brass players who give me hope because they can end up with above average lung capacity. So, instead of trawling through the Salvo Stores I should be singing all night.

We had a very special day today. Our daughter auditioned for a local youth performing arts show with the dance school she attends and we were able to watch. She appeared in three classical ballet dances: a trio, a duo and her ballet solo. She is always amazing and naturally looks the part with her physique which is a stroke of genetic fortune (especially considering I am about 10-15cm taller than her). However, none of this comes on a platter and there’s a lot of hard work and she lives and breathes ballet with a passion.

I was particularly delighted to see the new duo for the first time which she performs with a young man she’s known forever at the studio and I guess this for me is what ballet is all about and it really is like she’s finally arriving after starting ballet 14 years ago as a three year old and there’s that graduation from flats, to pointe shoes, doing solos, getting your first real (expensive) tutu and then there’s that magical connection in a good duo which is sensational. They might not be Torvill and Dean of the dance world in other people’s eyes, but they were to me and they were spectacular.

After the audition, we went out for lunch across the road. That was also truly special and not something we do terribly often.

Have you read any good books lately? I am currently reading “Seven Poor Men of Sydney” by Australian author Christina Stead. It’s largely set in Watson’s Bay on Sydney Harbour but is quite a dark tale and perhaps not the best thing for me to be reading with the state of my lungs. However, Stead’s characters are generally lonely misfits and I’m immersed in family and community so my lifestyle is very different. The book is very philosophical, which I love and Stead writes beautifully and there’s plenty of underlining throughout which is my mark of a great book. Here are a few of my underlinings:

“Who does not wish to spend his life in communion with himself?”

“You can be absorbed in Nature, as-as in the sea, as if you melted into the sea and were diffused through the oceans of the earth. There is peace where her mysteries are an open book to you; in her inmost recesses she has perfect peace, even for the most fevered.”

I have 50 pages left, which is too much to polish it off tonight but at the same time, I’m on that downhill run where I’m eager to follow all the threads and reach the end, even though I will miss it when it’s done.

Meanwhile, I’ve also been researching her father, naturalist David G. Stead and he led me astray onto a whole different journey as he was a naturalist and conservationist and he wrote a series of articles in the children’s section of a Sydney newspaper which make for interesting reading. His column was called “The Great Outdoors” and was narrated using the voice of an emu called Dirrawan. Stead was rather broad in his understanding of the great outdoors and one of his early columns gives a detailed account of mud sediments at the bottom of the ocean, especially at the deepest part of the ocean in the Marianna Trench, which is clearly well away from the Australian outdoors. Anyway, I’ve managed to download the text from the online newspapers after undertaking text corrections and they’re now getting a further clean up as the analysis begins. This has also been a brilliant distraction.

So, how are things with you going? No doubt, I should’ve asked you that at the outset and offered you “coffee, tea or bonox” as my mother would say. However, I got a bit carried away. So, please forgive me.

This has been another Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer.

Best wishes,

Rowena

PS I almost forgot to mention that Miss and I decorated our new phone cases this week. This is an idea she picked up from Tik Tok where you cover the cover the back of the cover in tiling plaster and stick objects into it like a collage. It was so much fun and I was really happy with the results even if they’re not the most practical phone cases around.

My phone case made using shells I’d picked up in Geraldton WA over 20 years ago.

Weekend Coffee Share – 5th March, 2023.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

Right now, I feel like I could poor a bucket of ice right over my head. Apparently, it’s 22°C and by rights I shouldn’t be complaining because the mercury is going to hit 36 °C later today. However, I’ll blame Zac the dog who is sleeping on my lap for blazing like a furnace and if it weren’t for him, I’d also elevate myself out of the chair and nab the remote control for the air-conditioning and turn it back on. Forget being stoic and developing resilience and grit. I want comfort!

On the train last night. Sorry you can’t see my magic red heels. They’re in my bag.

The highlight of the last week was catching up with some school friends for dinner at the Butcher’s Block in Wahroonga, Sydney. Coincidentally, it turns out we were meeting up with our friend Natalie who moved to Toronto, Canada and I’ve always found it kind of nice that I get a window into my friend’s world in Toronto through our intrepid host, Natalie the Explorer. There were ten of us for dinner and a number couldn’t make it, which I think you really notice with school friends because we used to hang out in pairs, within groups and while some of these allegiances changed over the years, there were those friends who made it all the way through and almost became an institution. I went to an all-girls school and while that didn’t preclude a romantic attachment, I haven’t heard of any but we certainly had no boys to couple up with although there was the school gardener who was rather young, handsome, blond and considered hot property at least on the bus. Fortunately, none of my close school friends have passed away but a number keep to themselves and I haven’t seen some truly close friends for over 10-20 + years. Indeed, putting that into words really paints an awful picture and I feel almost honourbound to get fired up and do something about it. Not all of these friends are real social and of course “we’re all busy”, but I think sometimes we need to exit stage left and leave all of that behind…the lists, the mess, the family obligations and say I am going to see you. I am going to make room for that coffee with a friend, a dinner, a weekend away. I’m not going to let the people who matter most to me get drowned out by weeds. Of course, it’s a bit harder when they don’t make the time. Don’t feel the need or desire to have coffee with you or even to return an email or text. You are in the past dead and buried. Well, as they say, “that’s their loss”. What I will say, is that I truly appreciate our school reunions and the opportunity to make new friends or strengthen various friendships which sort of hovered beneath the radar back at school. While in a sense these school friendships are in the past, there’s something really special about them. Well, that’s what I think anyway. You’re thrown into a lift together and under each other’s noses, arm pits the works with these often very strange creatures called teachers and rules and regulations, especially in our case, which often didn’t make sense. I started at the school in Year 6 back in 1981 so we’re not talking about the era of the horse and cart here, but we had to wear leather satchels to school and we also had to use cartridge ink pens. While the satchel sounds bad, inflicting ink pens on kids when biros are freely available was sadistic. How could they? We weren’t allowed to walk on the grass. Couldn’t go into a shop in school uniform or talk to boys either (which probably should’ve gone at the top of my list of prohibitions!!) Thank goodness, we’d been spared wearing gloves, but we did have to wear hats, which I’m sure had nothing to do with sun protection, especially the Winter Tam-o-shanter which made for fabulous frisbees at the train station and it was nothing for them to take flight and go on all sorts of unplanned adventures on their own. Clearly, you had to be there to appreciate the place in all it’s glory, which is probably much the same for every school although for different reasons and why school friends become a kind of survival network. If you can get through school together, you can conquer the world.

So let me propose a toast to absent friends and an open invitation for them all to come home.

Watson’s Bay, Sydney Harbour.

Meanwhile, I’m still writing up my posts from my houseminding stint in Sydney and still going on massive research detours. You might recall that I visited Watson’s Bay on Sydney Harbour and started reading Christina Stead’s novel: “Seven Poor Men of Sydney” which was set there back in the 1920s. Indeed, she lived there from 1911-1928. Well, I’m very passionate about biography and family history and so I started pouring through the old newspapers putting all that background together and was fascinated by her father, David Stead, who was a noted naturalist who was an expert in Australian fish and actively campaigned for the preservation of Australia’s native plants and animals at least as early as the 1920[‘s. He’s speaking out about koalas being killed for their furs, women wearing the feathers of exotic birds in their hats and I guess the thing that really struck me was there were tigers roaming through Singapore only 100 years ago. Indeed, his writings provide a terrifying reflection of a world we’re coming close to destroying. Yet, he was blowing the whistle over 100 years ago. Much not only to think about there, but to act on as well!

Meanwhile, the while all of that’s been going on, there’s my health which has been refusing to lie down in the background and is still trying to push me out of the way on centre stage crying: “Look at me!” Or, more pertinently “Listen to me” be it a cough, choke or shortness of breath. I think the increased prednisone is helping and the coughing has really calmed down a lot. I was able to catch the train to dinner and got through the night without mishap so I’m feeling pretty chuffed. I even got to wear my red high heels, although I managed to slip them on when I arrived and hide the dreaded flats in my bag. That’s the beauty of being first to arrive and the bathroom was conveniently right behind my seat. Surely, even I couldn’t trip over and break my neck taking only a couple of steps (You bet I could but thank goodness it didn’t happen this time.) Mind you, I could also ask why I felt compelled to wear the flashy red shoes at all when they were hiding under the table almost all of the night (Of course, I had to point them out, didn’t I ?!!)

This week I have more medical appointments, but excitingly it’s our son, J.P.’s birthday on Wednesday. He’s turning 19. My goodness time is flying.

Well, I’d better head off to bed and hope by some miracle it’s cooler in there than it is out here with the dog. I know I’ll be complaining about the cold before too long, so I’ll try to be thankful instead.

On that note, what have you been up to? I’d love to hear from you and look forward to catching up on your news.

This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer.

Best wishes,

Rowena

A Visit to Sydney Modern – An Extension to the Art Gallery of NSW.

My goodness! Writing up these posts about our three week stint in Sydney seems to be taking longer than our holiday itself, a situation hardly helped by my knack of over-researching each and every step I take and even taking flight on the wings of numerous stories.

While some would consider delving into the past like this a waste of time or an escape from the present, for me these places really come to life when you find out more about them and their assorted characters. Indeed, even the multifarious fragments of stories I’ve been gathering are riveting and while they might not make a full story in themselves, I’m hoping to join them together into some sort of conglomerate or word collage. We’ll see.

New Zealand artist Francis Upritchard’s Here Comes Everybody

Meanwhile, heading back to the 19th January, I caught the ferry to Circular Quay and the train to St James Station and started walking towards the Art Gallery of New South Wales and it’s new development, Sydney Modern, which is located conveniently next door. Sydney Modern, which is its temporary name, only opened on the 3rd December, 2022. So, it had only been open for about six weeks and it was brand spanking new. Moreover, being our long school Summer holidays, quite a few of my friends had been going and photos were turning up on Facebook which motivated me to overlook the long walk to get there.

And I thought I had big feet…!

My thoughts about Sydney Modern are that it’s massive with vast amounts of space in between works and my feeling was they could’ve moved the paintings closer together and squeezed a few more works up on the wall and there would be more to see. Of course, this is coming from someone whose personal style is “cluttered eclectic” and I’m always trying to squeeze more books into overcrowded book shelves and don’t even talk to me about getting photos up on the walls at home. I have stacks upon stacks of picture frames and I’d probably be able to fill Sydney Modern myself given half the chance. So, I’m hardly one who would leave plenty of room or “pasture” around a painting on a wall. Being a public gallery, I might not want to jam it all in and I’m coming to appreciate the virtues of blank space. Yet, I did feel they could fit more onto the walls without it becoming less.

Darren Siwes: Jingli Kwin

Marlene Rubuntja: “Woman & Dilly Bags Hat 2019

Grace Lillian Lee: Belonging 3

Lin Onus: “Fruit Bats” 1991.

Before I developed these theories on gallery hanging space, I visited the Aboriginal gallery within Sydney Modern – the Yiribana Gallery, which actually takes pride of place in the new gallery instead of being shut away in the boondocks like it was in the old building. How could a country marginalise the art and culture of its Indigenous people? I don’t know and I guess it’s just part of a broader picture of things I don’t understand. My thinking is too simple. Anyway, I really enjoyed being able to immerse myself in Aboriginal art there and gain a greater appreciation, even if I have a long way to go. If you would like to explore the Yiribana Gallery online, click HERE

Just on this first visit, I didn’t really get a good feel for the new building and barely scratched the surface. However, if you’d like to read more about it, here’s a link: Opening of the Sydney Modern Project.

An awkward selfie of me with my lump of clay and contribution to the work.

Before we leave Sydney Modern, I’d just like to share one last thing which was more of an experiential or “participatory” artwork. This was Kimsooja’s Archive of Mind. Visitors to the gallery were given the opportunity to make their own albeit small contribution by taking a lump of clay, rolling it into a ball which was left on a large table becoming part of a a community of balls. We could choose from three different coloured clay and it was meant to be a bit of a relaxing, mindfulness type experience and there’s a brief explanation about what the work’s about:

“Each person has their space and time, but the work also creates a communal space. Working towards a certain state of mind creates a kind of cosmic landscape, a mind-galaxy

– Kimsooja, Korea 1957-

Personally, I found it rather exciting to go to the art gallery and make art or perhaps it’s more of a sculpture myself and to be a contributor and not just a watcher of art. I was also reminded of visiting the art gallery with our son when he was just shy of turning five. We were walking back home across The Domain after visiting the gallery and he found a great big Autumn leaf on the ground. Being a preschooler, he knew all about making leaf prints from Autumn leaves and wanted to take the leaf back to the art gallery so they could make one. He was so enthusiastic. I felt a bit too self-conscious to return to the art gallery with his leaf and explained that the gallery displayed art rather than making it there. Had we gone back, I’m sure the staff would’ve accepted his leaf with grace (unlike his mother) and there’s part of me now that wishes I’d turned back and had more belief in him.

Heading home, I decided to walk back to Circular Quay via the Botanic Gardens instead of walking back to St James Station. Transport wise, the art gallery is in a tricky spot and it’s a fair hike to a station. However, I planned to take it slowly, a bit at a time, and rest along the way and thought I’d be okay. I wasn’t and the walk back to Circular Quay was grueling. It felt like I’d been walking for an eternity and then I finally reached a map and it showed I was only a third of the way through and my legs were aching, exhausted, dead weights. However, I’d unwittingly committed myself to coming out the other side and everywhere I looked there were prohibitive flights of stairs. Tall trees towered overhead and there were moments where I was starting to feel trapped, and like I’d never make it out the other side. I also have a pretty poor sense of direction which didn’t help either and with such limited energy, I couldn’t afford to get lost and even take one more step more than required. Indeed, I was looking for the short cut out.

I guess this is what they call biting off more than you can chew. Moreover, the trouble is you can’t always spit it all out and make everything manageable again. Sometimes, you’re caught up in the flow and all you can do is keep breaking it down into smaller chunks, rest, recover and think about all those powerfully motivating words like resilience, persistence, perseverance, determination, never giving up. Another thing which also would’ve helped is planning ahead, and having some appreciation of not only getting to my destination, but also getting home. Sometimes you can push yourself too far, which is actually counter-productive and even dangerous. You don’t always need to be a hero, and some times being a survivor is good enough.

No escape from the Botanical Gardens for those who can’t get up the stairs lol.

Obviously, I made it out alive and didn’t get lost in the Botanical Gardens for eternity either. Yippee! Mind you, I can’t say that I really learned to be more cautious about pacing myself, but more of that to come.

Have you been to the Sydney and what did you think? Or, have you been on a similar adventure over in your neck of the woods? If so, I’d love to hear from you.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Robertson’s Point Lighthouse, Sydney Harbour.

While we’re still at Cremorne Point, I thought I’d introduce you to the Robertson’s Point Lighthouse. Just to clarify any confusion, Robertson’s Point is the original name of Cremorne Point and the lighthouse is located in Athol Wharf Road.

Constructed in 1909, Robertson’s Lighthouse is identical to the lighthouse located at nearby Bradley’s Head near Taronga Zoo and very cute. Ideally, I would’ve walked down to see it close up, but with my mobility questionable I decided against it, especially as you need to walk down (and up) a ladder to get there. So, these photos were taken from the ferry to Mosman Bay.

While the lighthouse itself is very photogenic, it also has a great back story. Although postcard Sydney is always blue skies and sunshine, Sydney Harbour also gets a lot of fogs which can make navigation difficult. While it seems hard to believe now, ferries used to get lost in the harbour prior to the light house. Indeed, on the 24th November, 1908 the Australian Star reported:

HARBOR LIGHTS

The decision of the, Harbor Trust Commisioners to place a powerful’ light in Cremorne Point has not been made a moment too soon. In foggy weather Mosman’s Bay has been a difficult place to find. On very dark nights the low-lying headland looms up threateningly, and the ferrymaster has to pick up his course from the lights on the hills beyond. Just how the skippers in the old days fared without hardly a guiding light to give them the cue to their position can be imagined. Someday, perhaps, a genius will invent a light that will completely pierce our wintry logs, and then the spectacle or ferryboats bound around Bradley’s bringing up in Rose Bay, and others from Neutral Bay or Mosman finding themselves in Farm Cove instead of in Circular Quay, will be events of the past.” 1.

Golly, so hard to imagine a ferry getting lost these days as they manoeuvre their way around the harbour and I even photographed ferries chugging along through the fog and rain myself and they were staying on course.

By the way, if you go down to the lighthouse at night, you could well hear the animals across at Taronga Park Zoo. Miss was down there for a midnight walk and could hear the elephants and the seals. That would’ve been extraordinary.

Well, I’m going to keep moving as this was only a quick stopover today.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Sources

Australian Star (Sydney, NSW : 1887 – 1909), Tuesday 24 November 1908, page 4

If Only MacCallum Pool Could Talk…!

Located right on Sydney Harbour, MacCallum Pool is like the Pool of Siloam. In case you don’t know what that is, it’s where Jesus healed the blind man. Looking at the stunning views and tranquil waters, you have to wonder if there isn’t anything a swim in MacCallum Pool wouldn’t fix?!

Map showing the location of MacCallum Pool at Shell Cove on the Western side of Cremorne Point.

While generations have dived into it’s depths, thrived on it’s aquatic wonders and almost inhaled the breathtaking views, I’m delving into the old newspapers to find out what and who has gone before. These stories are my buried treasure, and add so much meaning to what I see.

That said, there’s no doubt that a lot of “what happens at MacCallum Pool stays at MacCallum Pool”, and no matter how deep we dive in, we’ll never reach the bottom.

Of the stories which can be made public, I’d like to focus on the incredible drive, persistence and grit of Cremorne locals who raised the funds and constructed the original pool themselves. We have them to thank for being able to wander freely into this magnificent pool free of charge and get in a few laps. What an incredible legacy to leave behind.

The vision for a harbour pool began with local resident and Olympic medal-winning swimmer, Fred Lane, who rearranged the rocks to create a natural pool.

Later, a group of keen locals under retired businessman Hugh MacCallum, took up the challenge in earnest. Work finished on the pool on Saturday 23rd November, 1924 after: “Fifteen years of patient, unostentatious work at week-ends and on holidays, work of the youngsters and the parents living around Shell Cove — and at last the monument was completed.”

This little snippet from the 19th January, 1927 does a good job of relating what went into creating the pool:

“This is a story that should make every alderman beam with delight — Every Mayor chortle with joy— .And every ratepayer gasp with admiration and envy. It is told simply in the following letter, which, accompanied by a photograph of a bathing pool, was received by the North Sydney Council last night. “As an example of what can be done by the residents of any suburb, where the people are willing to co-operate and provide the needful, it may be mentioned that, by doing a little every year, this series of potholes at Shell Cove has taken shape, until now it is a safe, shark-proof pool with a graded depth from 2ft, 6in. at the children’s end to 6ft. 6in. at the other end. “Up to date over £700 has been spent during a period of 15 years, and this sum has been voluntarily subscribed by the residents, no outsider’s help of any kind having been asked for or received.” Council expressed its appreciation of the fine public spirit which had prompted the construction of the swimming bath…” 1.

Council -took over the running of the pool in 1930 and on the 29th April, 1933, a plaque was unveiled naming the pool after Hugh MacCallum who had “collected £600 in the locality, and after several years of strenuous labor constructed a swimming pool about 40 yards long and which at high tide has a depth of over six feet. Many North Sydney youngsters have learnt to swim in the pool, and it has become a popular picnic spot.”2.

Here’s an interview with Hugh MacCallum’s grandson which was filmed at the pool:

Meanwhile, as I alluded to earlier, there was another side to MacCallum Pool. On the 5th March, 1930 the Evening News, ran a headline: “CREMORNE POOL: HIGH JINKS ALLEGED”. It continued:

“In a letter to North Sydney Council last night, a resident of Cremorne Point scathingly criticised the conduct of bathers in Cremorne Pool, and asked that the baths be removed. “Since this bathing pool has been in existence, it has been an intolerable nuisance to those who live nearby,” he wrote.

“Bathers use it up to and sometimes after, midnight, and indulge in singing, shouting, laughing, screeching, and often use very bad language. Many bathers, of both sexes, lie on the rocks sunbaking, and others run about the reservation in scanty bathing costumes at all hours of the day.” Ald. Norden asked that the pool be allowed to remain. The engineer will report on the cleaning of the pool.” 3.

Sunset Near MacCallum Pool

I had thought there was further scandal to report until I had a closer read. It turns out there is also a Cremorne in Mackay, Queensland. Of course, I couldn’t let you miss out on a scandal. So here goes. On the 18th October, 1917 a letter to Mackay’s Daily Mercury lamented:

“About a dozen men were lying about in prominent positions, with absolutely nothing on. One man was also swimming about in a state of nudity. These occurrences prevent the place being used by ladies, and surely they have as much right to the place as men.  On Sunday it is just as bad.

Yours, etc., DISGUSTED.” 4.

I guess this leaves us with the dilemma of whether we are going to be a force for good and make a contribution to our local community. Or, are we going to be the “fart in the lift”? That’s not to say the two are mutually exclusive. You can be community-minded and still have fun. Yet there’s a balance, and at least a consideration of one of my favourite principles: the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. I’m also a fan of trying to walk in someone’s shoes. Although living this way may not leave a concrete legacy like MacCallum Pool, it could very well build invisible, luxury mansions inside those we meet, especially those who need it most.

Have you ever been to MacCallum Pool or something similar where you live? Do you have any memories to share?

I’d love to hear from you in the comments below.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Sources

1.Sun (Sydney, NSW : 1910 – 1954), Wednesday 19 January 1927, page 14

2.Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW : 1931 – 1954), Friday 21 April 1933, page 8

3. Evening News (Sydney, NSW : 1869 – 1931), Wednesday 5 March 1930, page 3

4. Daily Mercury (Mackay, Qld. : 1906 – 1954), Thursday 18 October 1917, page 6

Weekend Coffee Share – 27th February, 2023.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

How are you? I hope you’ve had a good couple of weeks. For those of you on the Northern side of the equator, I hope you’re not counting your Spring chickens before they hatch! I’m not quite ready to give up on Summer yet.

The big news here last week was that Miss turned 17 on Friday. Naturally, we had to roll out the red carpet or at least get her presents wrapped and bake a cake. I asked her what she wanted for a cake and she chose Key Lime Pie, and I suspect I’ve actually eaten most of it. I managed to get her an eclectic assortment of things along with her main gift which was active wear from Eckt. She lives in dance and gym wear so it made good sense. Of course, so many memories flood your mind on birthdays…the ghosts of cakes and parties past and memories of that very special baby when they first entered the world with nothing but a cry and how you loved them more than life itself.

The other news was that I went down to Sydney for an appointment with my lung specialist on Tuesday, which went reasonably well and on the way home we visited my Mum and Dad. We haven’t seen much of them since covid and they’re still being very cautious and largely keep to themselves. There’s Romeo’s Pies near the hospital and Mum has a really special connection with the ladies who work there. When I last bought pies for her the, they drew bright happy faces on the boxes and were so friendly. They just adore my mum.

So I thought I’d get them more pies and hopefully more lovely messages while I was there. Well, they didn’t disappoint and they were soooo lovely. It’s a shame mum wasn’t there to hear them herself but they wrote on the box again for her. How precious is that!!! They were such an inspiration to me and a reminder that kindness isn’t rocket science.

MacCallum Pool

Sunset Laneway, Cremorne Point

Ferry Sydney Harbour

Meanwhile, I’m back to posting the photos I took while we were house minding at Cremorne Point on Sydney Harbour. I realized I’d got badly derailed doing what was supposed to be background research on Watson’s Bay and a few weeks I think had gone by and I realized I’d dug myself quite the rabbit warren and disappeared completely. So, I put that on hold and wrote up about walking down to MacCallum Pool via Cremorne Reserve. Of course, I couldn’t resist looking for some background stories there either and I found quite a few interesting goings on at the pool which I’m yet to post. So many stories, so little time!

Sunset Hardy’s Bay, NSW.

Lastly, I’ll leave you with a photo taken around sunset yesterday locally at Hardy’s Bay. Obviously, it’s very muted especially compared to the very dramatic sunsets I photographed in Sydney. The sun is currently setting behind the hills on the left and there wasn’t much colour to be seen. At the same time, this softer sunset was peaceful and relaxing in a Monet kind of way.

Not bad for a handheld shot of the lights at Hardy’s Bay

After going for a short walk along the jetty, we ran into some friends who were having a pizza picnic on the foreshore and we joined them for a few hours. I was fully engaged in conversation and oblivious to the lights illuminating the darkness behind me looking stunning. How could I miss them? Humph! I miss a lot of things.

Anyway, it’s time for me to get to bed now. It’s already Monday.

Well, I hope you’ve had a great weekend and I look forward to catching up on your news.

This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer.

Best wishes,

Rowena

A Swim At MacCallum Pool, Cremorne Reserve, Sydney Harbour.

If you’ve been following my posts, you’ll know that I was house minding for a friend at Cremorne Point for three weeks in January, and we exchanged texts while she was away including one rather pertinent text: “Have you been to MacCallum Pool yet?” At this point, we’d been to Circular Quay and around The Rocks, off to Manly on the Northern headland and Watson’s Bay on the South but aside from a quick visit when we picked up the key in December, we hadn’t been to MacCallum Pool and I certainly hadn’t been for a swim.

MacCallum Pool has the best views and it’s free of charge open to the public.

So, this swim was clearly overdue and I didn’t want her arriving home and having to confess I couldn’t get around the corner. After having a quiet day having coffee with a friend, I hoped I had plenty of oomph for a swim and set off on the short walk to the pool. The only trouble was that I needed to walk home uphill, which I knew was going to be challenging for my lungs, and so I had to take it slowly in the pool. Pace myself.

Wow!

Actually, I took it very slowly getting in the pool, which is an unfortunate fault of mine. I’m one of those comical characters who agonise their way into the water starting with their big toe and taking forever to put their head underwater if they do at all. Just to compound my shame, there was a group of teenaged boys beside me who really must’ve thought I looked ridiculous. However, in my book I was a champion even for getting wet, and pleased I was able to do two laps (conserving my energy for the walk home, of course).

A Photographer’s Paradise

While Mac Callum Pool was built with a view to swimming, it also makes for amazing photography and I was much more in my element on that front and I’ve also done a much better job at excavating stories about the history of the pool from the old newspapers online (Trove). I will write them up in a separate post as I need to put some thought into that.

Have you ever been to MacCallum Pool and do you have any stories to tell?

Best wishes,

Rowena