This is a post for all the beautiful Kiama people who’ve been reaching out with care and concern. I’ve heard you, and I’ve been focusing on getting my life back on track.
For those new here, it’s been a tough month. I’ve been calling out the toxic culture in our local council, and what I’ve learned is confronting. Some of our councillors have become so used to operating in the drama triangle that it’s become their norm. But here’s the truth, the only people who can get themselves out of that mess are them.
Last week, I drove to Sydney. This week, I decided to take the train. It was all going to be very civilised. A bit of theatre, catch up with friends, take in MJ the Musical, and head home refreshed.
And mostly, it was.
Let’s start with MJ the Musical. If you ever sang into a hairbrush, attempted the moonwalk on a slippery kitchen floor, or belted out Billie Jean with way too much drama, this show is for you. The dancing was outrageous. The staging was slick. The lead performer channelled Michael Jackson so well I kept forgetting I wasn’t watching the real thing. It’s not a deep dive into controversy. It’s about the craft, the music, the magic. I loved it.
Next day, I jumped in an Uber. Or more accurately, someone ordered an Uber for me. I got in, greeted the driver, and immediately noticed he looked distressed. His English was limited, but it became clear he was expecting a pet. Yes, it was a Pet Uber. Apparently, that’s a thing. And apparently, I am not one.
No dog. No cat. No ferret. Just me.
The poor man was very worried. I briefly considered pretending to be transporting an invisible cavoodle named Kevin but decided against it. He drove me anyway, bless him.
It was only after I arrived that I realised I’d left my iPad in the Uber. And if you know me, you know how much I rely on that iPad. It’s where I read. It’s where I write. It’s practically my second brain.
Cue the great iPad recovery mission.
The young person who booked the ride jumped into action. I jumped into Find My iPad. We both started trying to reach the driver. And then we made the discovery. I was watching my iPad on the move across Sydney. Marrickville. Glebe. Newtown. At one point it did a loop of the M5.
For four days, my iPad Ubered around Sydney. It had a more active social life than I did. My iPad had been everywhere man. I’m not saying it has PTSD, but I do wonder how many dogs licked it before it made its way home.
Eventually, thanks to persistence, goodwill and a few lucky breaks, I got it back. The driver was thanked and rewarded. The young person who coordinated the whole thing was thanked. I went back to Sydney to collect it and made a day of it.
This time, I saw The Spare Room, Helen Garner’s story brought to the stage. And what a joy. It’s sharp and funny and deeply moving. A play about illness and friendship that never preaches or pities. It just notices. It holds space. It lets the audience feel what they feel. I adored it.
As an aside Yes it is clear I love that pink cardigan – Theodore and Scanlan. It cost me an arm and two legs and yes Eevi it is worth every cent. ( Do you have one of those friends you go shopping with and they coming running up to you and say Lynne you must see this – its sooo you. You try it on – they say Lynne – its sooo you – you must buy it and of course you do)
And then something even more astonishing happened. I had Yum Cha for the first time. Yes, I’m nearly 70. No, I don’t know what took me so long. Dumplings. Pork buns. Endless pots of tea. A trolley full of happiness. Why didn’t someone sit me down and make me do this 30 years ago?
The new-look Central Station is seriously something to be proud of. For once, you don’t feel like you’re arriving through Sydney, you feel like you’re arriving in Sydney. The whole place has had a glow up, and it shows. There’s light, space, smart design, and a real sense of arrival. The Grand Concourse feels exactly that, grand, and the way the old sandstone arches now sit alongside sleek glass and smooth escalators is nothing short of gorgeous. It’s functional, it’s stylish, and it finally feels like the gateway to a world-class city. Honestly, it’s the kind of station you can be proud of, the kind you want to show off, the kind that lets us stand tall next to New York’s Grand Central.
The trains though? Bless them. They still look like they were commissioned during the cassette tape era and haven’t had a proper bath since. Grubby, worn out, and clinging to their past lives with stained seats and faded signs. They roll into this architectural wonder like a teenager showing up to a wedding in a hoodie. But you know what? You step off that train, walk into Central’s new glory, and all is forgiven. Almost.
The train home ran on time. I had a window seat, a warm conversation, and a nap without snoring or dribbling. And now I’m home, reunited with my iPad, and back to reading with a grateful heart and a full belly.
Sydney, you’ve outdone yourself.
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