We seem to be creeping towards the colder weather – though not creeping fast enough to my mind. Still, with the daily news full of America revisiting its 1953 coup in Iran (with the Israelis rather than the Brits this time) – that reinstalled the Shah and then, through action and reaction, led to the situation we have today – who has time to think about the weather?
We had lunch (and bought their gin) as we always do, just down the road at Wild Brumby Distillery. Canberra is placed at the epi-centre of Sydney, the Snowy Mountains and the South Coast, which makes it easy to drive anywhere.
On this trip she had driven over from Adelaide with an old friend of hers. They came to our place and her friend mentioned that I probably wouldn’t remember her, but that we had met long before I had moved to Canberra.
Later I realised that I certainly remembered her. In fact I’d met her several times, a very long time ago. The second time, she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer, at the time a far grimmer diagnosis than is generally the case now. What was disconcerting was that for decades I thought she must have died. Instead I discovered that she has survived and was living healthily and happily. It was as if the universe had suddenly given someone back.
You go through life believing something is a certain way and many decades later find you had it all wrong and all along the reality was the exact opposite. I used to think that Port Adelaide was oriented a certain way after a quick tour in the dark and then many years later discovered it pointed in the opposite direction. I had also been convinced my whole life that you shouldn’t swim for an hour after a meal – and then heard on a television quiz program that it was all a lie.
Life in an art gallery
In an episode of Grand Designs, the television program about striking houses, someone commented that inhabiting a modernist house would be like living in an art gallery. I thought ‘I’d like to live in an art gallery’. Now we were back home, it was time to return to furnishing our home, with it’s mixture, as I describe it, of mid-century modern and French Empire.
One, by noted artist Andrew Hill, was from a project in 1984 called ‘All our working lives’, from my time as Arts Officer for the Trades and Labor Council of SA during its Centenary. It had been lying under our spare bed in the guest room, but we finally decided to get it framed after all those decades and cities.
At the framers I noticed a striking work that had just been finished leaning against the wall and turned it over to find out more about it. I was taken aback to see it was from Artists of Ampilatwatja [pron. um-bloody-watch], an Indigenous art centre North-East of Alice Springs on Alyawarr country. It’s by no means one of the best known art centres, but I have a painting from it.
When I was working in the research unit of the Department of Communications I travelled to the Northern Territory with Brian Kennedy on his final project in Australia after he finished up as Director of the National Gallery. He knew the Indigenous art centres like the back of his hand and we visited an outlet for Artists of Ampilatwatja in Alice Springs, where I was really taken with one painting by artist Doris Elkdra. I ended up buying it and it has been with me ever since.
Sheep graziers warning replaced by heat wave alert – reading books, drinking tea and reading tea leaves
‘The little city that serves Australia as a capital is tucked up in the mountains far from any coastline, even though in a strange historical quirk it actually has a coastline at Jervis Bay. Yet to reach the South Coast of New South Wales, below the swollen city where Australia’s official European history began, takes hardly any time at all. It’s much more drawn out heading down the coast from Sydney, through the great Sydney sprawl past Wollongong and beyond. The South Coast is an entirely different universe to the capital’, A different universe lapped by waves.
Pulling the trigger or dropping the ball
I am fascinated by how the everyday expressions of a country reflect it’s most important interests – in the US pulling the trigger on a decision, in Australia, dropping the ball.
I am fascinated by how the everyday expressions of a country reflect it’s most important interests – in the US pulling the trigger on a decision, in Australia, dropping the ball.
Changing seasons in the high country
As the months move on, seasonal foods make their appearance. Just in time we’ve swapped fruit mince tarts for hot cross buns – though with all the chocolate that seems to be added I’d prefer to call them hot, irritable buns.
We’ve just driven back from one of my favourite spots in Australia – the Thredbo Valley. It was the perfect time of year. We stayed at Tinkersfield, a place we have been going to for decades, once the location of the old local post office.
As the months move on, seasonal foods make their appearance. Just in time we’ve swapped fruit mince tarts for hot cross buns – though with all the chocolate that seems to be added I’d prefer to call them hot, irritable buns.
We’ve just driven back from one of my favourite spots in Australia – the Thredbo Valley. It was the perfect time of year. We stayed at Tinkersfield, a place we have been going to for decades, once the location of the old local post office.
Veal schnitzel, cucumber salad and cranberry sauce on the verandah at Wild Brumby.
We had lunch (and bought their gin) as we always do, just down the road at Wild Brumby Distillery. Canberra is placed at the epi-centre of Sydney, the Snowy Mountains and the South Coast, which makes it easy to drive anywhere.
Dropping over the Great Dividing Range, near Dead Horse Gap, we headed all the way to the Murray River and the watery border with Victoria.
Seeing ghosts
An old friend came to lunch the week before we went away and we had an extended catchup. The last time I had seen her was at the memorial for a mentor of mine in Adelaide late last year, in a time when so many of our mutual friends have finally been dying or developing debilitating illnesses.
An old friend came to lunch the week before we went away and we had an extended catchup. The last time I had seen her was at the memorial for a mentor of mine in Adelaide late last year, in a time when so many of our mutual friends have finally been dying or developing debilitating illnesses.
Signage in Kosciuszko National Park – named after one of those foreigners we keep hearing complaints about, in this case a Pole. The whacky habit of videoing everyone as evidence – much-loved by sovereign citizens – seem to have produced a new warning about not filming staff.
On this trip she had driven over from Adelaide with an old friend of hers. They came to our place and her friend mentioned that I probably wouldn’t remember her, but that we had met long before I had moved to Canberra.
Later I realised that I certainly remembered her. In fact I’d met her several times, a very long time ago. The second time, she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer, at the time a far grimmer diagnosis than is generally the case now. What was disconcerting was that for decades I thought she must have died. Instead I discovered that she has survived and was living healthily and happily. It was as if the universe had suddenly given someone back.
Pond and artwork at Wild Brumby – a place to make you happy.
You go through life believing something is a certain way and many decades later find you had it all wrong and all along the reality was the exact opposite. I used to think that Port Adelaide was oriented a certain way after a quick tour in the dark and then many years later discovered it pointed in the opposite direction. I had also been convinced my whole life that you shouldn’t swim for an hour after a meal – and then heard on a television quiz program that it was all a lie.
Life in an art gallery
In an episode of Grand Designs, the television program about striking houses, someone commented that inhabiting a modernist house would be like living in an art gallery. I thought ‘I’d like to live in an art gallery’. Now we were back home, it was time to return to furnishing our home, with it’s mixture, as I describe it, of mid-century modern and French Empire.
For many decades I have carted around from state to state and city to city some old silk screen prints from my time in Adelaide, from the era when silk screen printing was the medium of choice for socially-aware artists across Australia.
Silk screen print by artist Andrew Hill from ‘All our working lives’ project, Trades and Labor Council of SA Centenary, 1984.
One, by noted artist Andrew Hill, was from a project in 1984 called ‘All our working lives’, from my time as Arts Officer for the Trades and Labor Council of SA during its Centenary. It had been lying under our spare bed in the guest room, but we finally decided to get it framed after all those decades and cities.
Life in an art gallery.
At the framers I noticed a striking work that had just been finished leaning against the wall and turned it over to find out more about it. I was taken aback to see it was from Artists of Ampilatwatja [pron. um-bloody-watch], an Indigenous art centre North-East of Alice Springs on Alyawarr country. It’s by no means one of the best known art centres, but I have a painting from it.
Painting by artist Doris Elkdra from Artists of Ampilatwatja, an Indigenous art centre North-East of Alice Springs on Alyawarr country.
When I was working in the research unit of the Department of Communications I travelled to the Northern Territory with Brian Kennedy on his final project in Australia after he finished up as Director of the National Gallery. He knew the Indigenous art centres like the back of his hand and we visited an outlet for Artists of Ampilatwatja in Alice Springs, where I was really taken with one painting by artist Doris Elkdra. I ended up buying it and it has been with me ever since.
© Stephen Cassidy 2026
See also
I'm never leaving home again – well, except to travel
‘I’ve made a couple of big decisions. I’ve decided that it’s better to be a Chardonnay socialist than a Riesling reactionary. I’ve also decided that given the state of the world – despite all the good things going on that we never hear about, it seems to be balancing between mediocrity, incompetence and plain greed and lust for power – I’m never leaving home again…well, except to travel’, I'm never leaving home again – well, except to travel.
‘I’ve made a couple of big decisions. I’ve decided that it’s better to be a Chardonnay socialist than a Riesling reactionary. I’ve also decided that given the state of the world – despite all the good things going on that we never hear about, it seems to be balancing between mediocrity, incompetence and plain greed and lust for power – I’m never leaving home again…well, except to travel’, I'm never leaving home again – well, except to travel.
Guides to a fiery future – it was only a matter of time
'It was only a matter of time. It seems such a long time ago that we moved from bushfires to pandemic and watched as a wave of disease and stupidity swept the world and the country. Now the bushfires are back – the stupidity as well. Did we ever think they wouldn’t be?', Guides to a fiery future – it was only a matter of time.
‘Today I popped out to get coffee and to visit the library, which just reopened after the break. They are the only things that would tempt me out of the apartment in this weather. Instead of the normal sheep graziers alert we get in Canberra, today we have a heat wave alert. Today is 33 degrees, then tomorrow is 35, the next day 37 and then Friday will be 39. Originally there were going to be three days in a row where the temperatures reached 39, so I’m thankful that’s changed. I feel as though I am living in Adelaide again, but it’s probably even hotter there’, Sheep graziers warning replaced by heat wave alert.
Lurching to a halt at the end of the year
‘For some reason Christmas reminds me of a play by Jean-Paul Sartre called ‘Huis Clos’, named after the French equivalent of an in camera trial or closed courtroom. It’s about three people who have died, locked together awaiting judgement in a crowded room for eternity. It’s the origin of Sartre’s famous line ‘hell is other people’. But it’s not the idea of hell that Christmas reminds me of, but the fact that at Christmas, especially on Boxing Day, the world suddenly lurches to a halt’, Lurching to a halt at the end of the year.
A different universe lapped by waves‘For some reason Christmas reminds me of a play by Jean-Paul Sartre called ‘Huis Clos’, named after the French equivalent of an in camera trial or closed courtroom. It’s about three people who have died, locked together awaiting judgement in a crowded room for eternity. It’s the origin of Sartre’s famous line ‘hell is other people’. But it’s not the idea of hell that Christmas reminds me of, but the fact that at Christmas, especially on Boxing Day, the world suddenly lurches to a halt’, Lurching to a halt at the end of the year.
‘The little city that serves Australia as a capital is tucked up in the mountains far from any coastline, even though in a strange historical quirk it actually has a coastline at Jervis Bay. Yet to reach the South Coast of New South Wales, below the swollen city where Australia’s official European history began, takes hardly any time at all. It’s much more drawn out heading down the coast from Sydney, through the great Sydney sprawl past Wollongong and beyond. The South Coast is an entirely different universe to the capital’, A different universe lapped by waves.
Walking with ghosts
‘Increasingly people I have known for a long time seem to be dying. In fact my generation is steadily starting to disappear. Who is replacing them? We shuffle along in a world that is unravelling, a world – that for both good and bad – our generation gave birth to. We are teetering in a strange balance between building on the achievements of the past and desperately trying to dismantle them. In many countries, the current generation is poorer than the previous one, upending generations of dreams by working class parents and migrants for a better life for their children. In this time of upheaval – both welcome and unwelcome – creativity is needed like never before’, Walking with ghosts.
On the rails again – a trip about the past and the future
I'm on the road again – well, on the rails again. On Monday I caught the slow train from Canberra to Sydney, and today I’ve woken up to a third morning in Surry Hills. I’m enjoying the days in Sydney – after all, I did live here for twelve and a half years. I’m mainly here to see the Yolngu Power exhibition at the Art Gallery of NSW, which finishes next week, but I’m also using the trip to see to other business’, On the rails again – a trip about the past and the future.
I'm on the road again – well, on the rails again. On Monday I caught the slow train from Canberra to Sydney, and today I’ve woken up to a third morning in Surry Hills. I’m enjoying the days in Sydney – after all, I did live here for twelve and a half years. I’m mainly here to see the Yolngu Power exhibition at the Art Gallery of NSW, which finishes next week, but I’m also using the trip to see to other business’, On the rails again – a trip about the past and the future.
Looking down on dire predictions
‘I see the latest report on looming climate change has some pretty dire predictions – like a future of four times the length of heatwaves, up to five times as many deaths due to extreme heat, a massive drag on productivity, 1.5 million Australians at risk of coastal flooding and a potential half trillion dollar hit to property values by 20250 – and that’s just the good news’, Looking down on dire predictions.
‘I see the latest report on looming climate change has some pretty dire predictions – like a future of four times the length of heatwaves, up to five times as many deaths due to extreme heat, a massive drag on productivity, 1.5 million Australians at risk of coastal flooding and a potential half trillion dollar hit to property values by 20250 – and that’s just the good news’, Looking down on dire predictions.
Marching with the Nazis – as un-Australian as it gets
'I’m still shocked by the marches and rallies around the country opposing immigration. Everyone involved says mass immigration, but it’s clear in practice they mean most immigration – and definitely all immigration by people who aren’t white, or as I like to say, ‘pink’. Here I am travelling through my own homeland once again and, at times, it seems like a foreign country – not because of immigrants but because of those who have grown up here. Those taking part in these marches probably have genuine grievances, but they have picked the wrong target to blame and, in the process, have been steered into becoming in effect neo-Nazi fellow travellers. We are (almost) all immigrants here, only just starting to genuinely come to grips with this country', Marching with the Nazis – as un-Australian as it gets.
Self-imposed lockdown – hanging around home
'For all their faults and disadvantages there were some positive sides to the pandemic lockdowns. As I often say, ‘good times’ – maybe my memory isn’t what it was. I realise that I planned and prepared for so long to move to an apartment and now I am here I keep discovering more and more things I like about it. I could stay home and read and write and never leave it, just popping down to the shops when I need supplies – perhaps it’s a case of self-imposed lockdown', Self-imposed lockdown.
Essen, trinken, tanzen – aber nicht rauchen
‘From time to time my posts on ‘travelling light’ include references to restaurants we have eaten at or enjoyable places we have stayed. However, most of my regular writing about food, produce, restaurants and places we have stayed is on one of my blogs, tableland, which I describe as: ‘Food and cooking land to table – the daily routine of living in the high country, on the edge of the vast Pacific, just up from Sydney, just down from Mount Kosciuszko’, Essen, trinken, tanzen – aber nicht rauchen.
‘From time to time my posts on ‘travelling light’ include references to restaurants we have eaten at or enjoyable places we have stayed. However, most of my regular writing about food, produce, restaurants and places we have stayed is on one of my blogs, tableland, which I describe as: ‘Food and cooking land to table – the daily routine of living in the high country, on the edge of the vast Pacific, just up from Sydney, just down from Mount Kosciuszko’, Essen, trinken, tanzen – aber nicht rauchen.
Cooking minestrone in an art gallery – pineapple fruit cake, hot soup and art on a cold day
‘In winter my mind turns to food, but since it is never turned away from art, cooking and looking manage to fill in the cooler months – or maybe that’s all months. I haven’t made hand-made pasta for a while but I have made sushi and sashimi – though only once in recent memory – as I resurrect all my food traditions. Cooking, eating and cruising around art exhibitions – that’s winter for me’, Cooking minestrone in an art gallery - pineapple fruit cake, hot soup and art on a cold day
‘In winter my mind turns to food, but since it is never turned away from art, cooking and looking manage to fill in the cooler months – or maybe that’s all months. I haven’t made hand-made pasta for a while but I have made sushi and sashimi – though only once in recent memory – as I resurrect all my food traditions. Cooking, eating and cruising around art exhibitions – that’s winter for me’, Cooking minestrone in an art gallery - pineapple fruit cake, hot soup and art on a cold day
Winter markets in a creative city
'The winter we had to have (and could have hoped for) finally arrived on the Southern Tablelands. We have gone back to going to the Farmers Market every week. To add to the winter sun good news arrived. For over ten years we worked to have Canberra listed as a UNESCO Creative City of Design, part of a global network of creative cities. Finally the ACT Government announced that it intended to take the bid forward – and that it had allocated funding for it, the true sign of a government being serious. It’s always a pleasure to help initiate a worthwhile endeavour, but even more of a pleasure to look back ten years later and see that it has been a roaring success in more ways than one', Winter markets in a creative city.
Speaking in tongues
‘Where I live a statue of French maritime hero, La Pérouse, looks out over the suburb as though to say: this, too, could have been France. For a period it seemed everyone who went to school in Australia studied French. Perhaps it was a belated attempt to acknowledge how much better everything would have been if the French had got here first. As I like to say whenever I’m in France, ‘j’ai étudié le Français pendant six ans à l’école’ and I would like to have had more opportunity to use that knowledge', Speaking in tongues.Looking down on birds
'While the world unravels and some gleefully repeat the mistakes of the past, life goes on in gardens everywhere. I remember that in the Roman Empire, if a change of regime occurred, soldiers, recognising that they were also farmers, would often retire for a time to their farm - until circumstances and duty called them back. Some wit commented that what is happening now is like the fall of the Roman Empire, but with wi-fi', Looking down on birds.
Back in the days when we travelled
'Back in the days when we travelled, I used to post news of my trips to Facebook, so my friends could follow my exploits overseas. For a long time it has been apparent that Facebook has issues, so back in 2019 I set up this blog 'Travelling light' to replace my Facebook posts. However, in the end I decided to stay with Facebook, so this blog was never used', Back in the days when we travelled.
Travelling light by being still
'As I've said repeatedly, I don't have any problem with flying, it's landing and taking off I don't like – and all the logistics in-between. I have few problems with lounging around for hours and on a flight, you get to sit still while people bring you food and drink. How much better does it get?', Travelling light by being still.
Abandoning the world of work
'When I left full-time work over ten years ago, I was asked what I intended to do. Once I no longer had distractions, like work – fun though it was at the time – it was clear that I would definitely have some time on my hands. I replied that I planned to keep up with my friends and to travel – when I wasn't gardening, cooking, reading or writing. It sounded like a fine plan at the time and as things panned out, it was a fine plan', Abandoning the world of work.
