Fires and floods and wars (luckily the last haven’t reached Australia – yet) and other disasters inevitably make you think what should I keep, what should I take? Amongst such disaster I include the death of loved ones and the culling of loved things, like libraries. Sorting the belongings of those who have gone, the only criterion can be ‘does it mean something?’ With belongings, once you bravely discard an item of a certain level of significance, it’s open slather on all other items of that level – that way went many of my books.
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| Crowds at Coogee Beach indulging in one of the most popular Australian outdoor activities – contracting skin cancer. |
‘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.’
I seem to be able to tolerate dust but not disorganisation. My life is ruled by diaries and spreadsheets rather than brooms and vacuum cleaners. When I was transferring all the dates in my big fat diary from one year to the next, as I do every year – birthdays, deadlines, significant events – it included all the anniversaries of my life with my fellow traveller – our first meeting, when we first got together, when we split up, when we realised how stupid that was, when we married, when we moved or stayed still or watched others disappear.
Hazard apps to rule (or at least inform) your life
I have now downloaded all the hazard apps – fires near me, Victorian emergencies, live traffic update, all the services we need to survive in our contemporary world. I’m sure there’s also an app that warns you how likely you are to be shot if you go to the United States, especially by an ICE officer with a mask (and possibly including a stern warning simply not to go).
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A week ago my fellow traveller was stranded in Melbourne when the main highway was closed due to fires. This week we’ve just come back from a road trip to Sydney. Our main reason for the trip was to catch up with friends from Oxford visiting Australia. They'd partly come for Adelaide Writers Week, though that was now a faded promise. Apart from checking out one of Neil Perry’s new outlets, Margaret Café, in Double Bay (well-located and very popular but disappointing), our main thrill was seeing a fabulous new exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Dangerously Modern – Australian Women Artists in Europe 1890–1940. When we were last in Sydney it was being installed and I just knew I had to see it.
‘I realised that picking up chunky exhibition catalogues is the only weight-bearing exercise we get.’
My favourite artworks were the ones influenced by the Cubist movement. Amongst them there were several paintings of a hill town in the department of Drôme in the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region of Southern France, like the many we visited when we were staying in Vaison-la-Romaine in 2018. I realised they were by three different artists – Grace Crowley, Dorrit Black and Anne Dangar, probably three of my favourite artists in the exhibition.
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| Dangerously Modern – Australian Women Artists in Europe 1890–1940 at the Art Gallery of New South Wales. |
As we left I realised that picking up chunky exhibition catalogues is possibly the only weight-bearing exercise we get.
‘I’ve got a head full of ideas that are driving me insane’ (Bob Dylan) – and probably everyone else as well (me)
I am so over people who feel they have to comment about every single post on social media. Reading some of the commentators out there who are so quick to try to make narrow party political capital out of any public atrocity, I wish I had a huge 'Dislike' button.
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| Breakfast ficelles at legendary AP Bakery – this one in Barrack Street in the city. |
I am so tired of seeing social media awash with those who feel they have to comment individually on every single post by everyone else, as though their views are so much more important than anyone else. An old saying comes to mind: sometimes it's better to say nothing and let people think you are a fool, than to open your mouth and confirm that you really are.
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I once commented about this tit for tat posting on a post by a habitual commentator on the Canberra Times and his response was ‘and your point is?’ I would have thought he made the point himself, if he’d stopped to think about it.
In real life these people must be insufferable bores, correcting everyone around them, with a half-baked opinion about everything and anything. I can’t stand the non-stop commentators with their simple answers and pat machine-generated slogans, like ‘Islam is a religion, not a race, so it can’t be racist to attack Muslims’, and ‘Guns don’t kill people, people kill people’, ignoring the obvious fact that no gun ever killed anyone of its own accord.
‘I am so tired of seeing social media awash with those who feel they have to comment individually on every single post by everyone else, as though their views are so much more important than anyone else. An old saying comes to mind: sometimes it's better to say nothing and let people think you are a fool, than to open your mouth and confirm that you really are.’
In real life these people must be insufferable bores, correcting everyone around them, with a half-baked opinion about everything and anything. I can’t stand the non-stop commentators with their simple answers and pat machine-generated slogans, like ‘Islam is a religion, not a race, so it can’t be racist to attack Muslims’, and ‘Guns don’t kill people, people kill people’, ignoring the obvious fact that no gun ever killed anyone of its own accord.
© Stephen Cassidy 2026
See also
‘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.
Sheep graziers warning replaced by heat wave alert – reading books, drinking tea and reading tea leaves
‘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.
‘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.