Monday, July 27, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Emerald city has lost its soul, not just its sparkle
Richard Ackland sadly speaks the truth in the article below.
Our largest city is a now nothing but a dirty, car choked, unpleasant to negotiate shambles of soulless shopping malls and faceless bank buildings joined by above and below ground insulated walkways and an 80's throwback Monorail.
Kennett may have been a mongrel on lots of fronts, but hey, Melbourne after his reign is a showpiece example of a rejuvinated city.
Emerald city has lost its soul, not just its sparkle
Richard Ackland
June 12, 2009 - 12:04AM
Sydney is not a lovely place in winter. The CBD is a biting wind tunnel, Frank Sartor's granite footpaths are stained with the grease from spilled milkshakes, the sun is thin, the faces chapped and there's a pervading pong of rotten cooking oil and urine.
You've more chance of being crippled for life by a wild-eyed skateboarder than you have of finding a delicious and inexpensive meal after 2.30 in the afternoon. In fact, you can walk the entire length of the city from Central to Circular Quay on some thoroughfares and find nothing other than 1950-style cafes doing ham and cheese on toast.
Forget all the "Emerald City" nonsense, to borrow a line from someone I can't remember; Sydney makes Dallas look like Paris.
Here's another line, from the late great French cultural figure and politician, Andre Malraux. In Paris, he said, the city controls the developers. The developers do not control the city. Naturally he said it in French, so it sounded so much better.
Sydney's what you get when the developers run the place. Badly designed, cheaply finished buildings. You can count on the fingers of one, maybe one-and-a-half, hands buildings constructed in the CBD in the last 50 years where aesthetics were given at least an even break with the money. The big institutions, particularly the banks and Telstra, have given us some shockers.
Still, we're used to shockers: the Cahill Expressway and the monorail have helped deaden our response to whatever fresh hell is around the corner. My personal favourites are the overhead footways criss-crossing the city, like vast vacuum tubes sucking consumers from one shopping extravaganza to another. If ever there was a determined piece of civic uglification it is the overhead pedestrian tunnel - the brute force of commerce crushing charm.
The old Carlton brewery site on Broadway, if work ever recommences, will be massively overdeveloped - as will the Barangaroo project. Opportunity after opportunity is missed - Darling Harbour has the unmistakable aura of a tourist clip joint and that other great promise, Pyrmont, is filled with apartments designed for dwarfs.
Every time an area requiring sensitive management comes on the horizon a special planning committee filled with party hacks, mates, real estaters and "planners" gets to work to eviscerate the promise of something uplifting.
Of course, there's the dazzle of the harbour and one or two incredible structures. You can get the odd good Thai dinner in the suburbs and there's the odd terrific new development (witness the new community centre in Crown Street, Surry Hills).
But what's happened to the soul of Sydney? The fact that the place is crawling with merchant bankers doesn't do much for a soul, but the real drag on the spirit has to be sheeted home to the politicians, who at best are ordinary and at worse dubious.
And that's what the city has become - ordinary and dubious.
There's no leader whoever spruiks the spirited talk of the greatness of city life and urban design. You have to go back 30 or more years to the days of the Department of Urban and Regional Development and Tom Uren to recall any government that had a passing thought about urbanity.
It was never on Howard's radar; however, the Ruddites have just established something called the Major Cities Unit, which exists in the Office of the Infrastructure Co-ordinator, the outfit charged with "prioritising billions of dollars in infrastructure investment".
But, when you look at the visionless political oiks of NSW, night after night on the box, you just know we haven't got a hope. It makes you want to see again that little jumping jack Leo Port, the former lord mayor of Sydney, who at least had some energy and always seemed to be rolling out plans and poring over models for improvements and beautification.
Today there's political paralysis. A few years ago the Government had an opportunity to tear down the Cahill Expressway, but was frozen by the thought that there'd be a backlash from the whingers in the bush if a red cent was spent doing something half-decent for Sydney.
Still, the great beer-barn developments in places such as Kings Cross get waved through the development machine, including the Land and Environment Court, while the small bars are stymied in red tape. Try and get a civilised drink out of sight of a poker machine, just keep trying.
John O'Neill, the chairman of Events NSW, had a piece on these pages on Monday. My pulse quickened as he wrote that the Business Council and a whole pile of other worthies think it's about time something was done about the city and the state.
"Something radical, a bit out of left field," he teased. This exciting bit of boldness turned out to be "Brand Sydney", yet another marketing exercise, or putting lipstick on the pig. Apparently "Vivid Sydney", a winter wonderland cultural event, is part of the brand. All I noticed was that the Opera House was lit up.
Yet, Sydney always manages to trick its way into getting listed as an incredibly desirable place to live. It's equal eighth on The Economist's latest "liveability ranking". Last year in something called the annual Anholt City Brands Index it came first. Don't believe it.
On second thoughts that's a measure of branding. O'Neill's people are doing well. Shame about our heart and soul.
justinian@lawpress.com.
This story was found at: http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/emerald-city-has-lost-its-soul-not-just-its-sparkle-20090611-c4tm.html
Our largest city is a now nothing but a dirty, car choked, unpleasant to negotiate shambles of soulless shopping malls and faceless bank buildings joined by above and below ground insulated walkways and an 80's throwback Monorail.
Kennett may have been a mongrel on lots of fronts, but hey, Melbourne after his reign is a showpiece example of a rejuvinated city.
Emerald city has lost its soul, not just its sparkle
Richard Ackland
June 12, 2009 - 12:04AM
Sydney is not a lovely place in winter. The CBD is a biting wind tunnel, Frank Sartor's granite footpaths are stained with the grease from spilled milkshakes, the sun is thin, the faces chapped and there's a pervading pong of rotten cooking oil and urine.
You've more chance of being crippled for life by a wild-eyed skateboarder than you have of finding a delicious and inexpensive meal after 2.30 in the afternoon. In fact, you can walk the entire length of the city from Central to Circular Quay on some thoroughfares and find nothing other than 1950-style cafes doing ham and cheese on toast.
Forget all the "Emerald City" nonsense, to borrow a line from someone I can't remember; Sydney makes Dallas look like Paris.
Here's another line, from the late great French cultural figure and politician, Andre Malraux. In Paris, he said, the city controls the developers. The developers do not control the city. Naturally he said it in French, so it sounded so much better.
Sydney's what you get when the developers run the place. Badly designed, cheaply finished buildings. You can count on the fingers of one, maybe one-and-a-half, hands buildings constructed in the CBD in the last 50 years where aesthetics were given at least an even break with the money. The big institutions, particularly the banks and Telstra, have given us some shockers.
Still, we're used to shockers: the Cahill Expressway and the monorail have helped deaden our response to whatever fresh hell is around the corner. My personal favourites are the overhead footways criss-crossing the city, like vast vacuum tubes sucking consumers from one shopping extravaganza to another. If ever there was a determined piece of civic uglification it is the overhead pedestrian tunnel - the brute force of commerce crushing charm.
The old Carlton brewery site on Broadway, if work ever recommences, will be massively overdeveloped - as will the Barangaroo project. Opportunity after opportunity is missed - Darling Harbour has the unmistakable aura of a tourist clip joint and that other great promise, Pyrmont, is filled with apartments designed for dwarfs.
Every time an area requiring sensitive management comes on the horizon a special planning committee filled with party hacks, mates, real estaters and "planners" gets to work to eviscerate the promise of something uplifting.
Of course, there's the dazzle of the harbour and one or two incredible structures. You can get the odd good Thai dinner in the suburbs and there's the odd terrific new development (witness the new community centre in Crown Street, Surry Hills).
But what's happened to the soul of Sydney? The fact that the place is crawling with merchant bankers doesn't do much for a soul, but the real drag on the spirit has to be sheeted home to the politicians, who at best are ordinary and at worse dubious.
And that's what the city has become - ordinary and dubious.
There's no leader whoever spruiks the spirited talk of the greatness of city life and urban design. You have to go back 30 or more years to the days of the Department of Urban and Regional Development and Tom Uren to recall any government that had a passing thought about urbanity.
It was never on Howard's radar; however, the Ruddites have just established something called the Major Cities Unit, which exists in the Office of the Infrastructure Co-ordinator, the outfit charged with "prioritising billions of dollars in infrastructure investment".
But, when you look at the visionless political oiks of NSW, night after night on the box, you just know we haven't got a hope. It makes you want to see again that little jumping jack Leo Port, the former lord mayor of Sydney, who at least had some energy and always seemed to be rolling out plans and poring over models for improvements and beautification.
Today there's political paralysis. A few years ago the Government had an opportunity to tear down the Cahill Expressway, but was frozen by the thought that there'd be a backlash from the whingers in the bush if a red cent was spent doing something half-decent for Sydney.
Still, the great beer-barn developments in places such as Kings Cross get waved through the development machine, including the Land and Environment Court, while the small bars are stymied in red tape. Try and get a civilised drink out of sight of a poker machine, just keep trying.
John O'Neill, the chairman of Events NSW, had a piece on these pages on Monday. My pulse quickened as he wrote that the Business Council and a whole pile of other worthies think it's about time something was done about the city and the state.
"Something radical, a bit out of left field," he teased. This exciting bit of boldness turned out to be "Brand Sydney", yet another marketing exercise, or putting lipstick on the pig. Apparently "Vivid Sydney", a winter wonderland cultural event, is part of the brand. All I noticed was that the Opera House was lit up.
Yet, Sydney always manages to trick its way into getting listed as an incredibly desirable place to live. It's equal eighth on The Economist's latest "liveability ranking". Last year in something called the annual Anholt City Brands Index it came first. Don't believe it.
On second thoughts that's a measure of branding. O'Neill's people are doing well. Shame about our heart and soul.
justinian@lawpress.com.
This story was found at: http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/emerald-city-has-lost-its-soul-not-just-its-sparkle-20090611-c4tm.html
Friday, June 05, 2009
Tassie Scallops are Back!
After a break of three and a half years, the Bass Strait scallop fishery re-opened this week for commercial takes. The first harvest hit Hobart today. They look good and plump, the price is almost reasonable, and I can't wait to tuck in to some (very lightly fried in butter and garlic) very very soon.
The curried scallop pies will be pretty bloody good for a while too. Check out where the best in Tasmania are are right here.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Steve Fielding is a Moron
For those of you who missed it, click here to watch Senator Steve Fielding being interviewed by Tony Jones on last night's (June 3rd) ABC Lateline. Steve is on a mission to further understand global warming. How did he do this? He travelled to Washington, attended a Climate Change Denier's conference, hosted by a the Heartland Institute, a Republican "Think Tank".
Click here to read the ABC's account of the preamble to the conference, featuring such luminaries as US Senator Dana Rohrabacher. His jape at the start of the Quack's and Flat-Earthers' love in: " I do know a little bit about science. I know there are protons and neutrons, electrons and morons..."
Today, our man in the States will be "...meeting Obama's administration" (read: more than likely the President's Climate Change Office's Intern) to try and balance the story from both sides.
"I'm an engineer, Tony, and I suppose that looking at both sides is pretty important...". Well, fuck me Steve, good on YOU.
Be thankful, Australia. Senator Steve will save us all. Or (literally) send us into the deep fryer.
Be more thankful for Tony Jones ("...so are you gonna go into the White House and actually have a devil's advocate debate with the White House experts, with the scientists who are advising Barack Obama, putting to them what you've heard at this sceptical conference and arguing the toss with him?") for exposing Fielding for the simpleton he really is.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Bridgewater Jerry, 22 May 2009
View down Warwick Street to Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church. Click image for full size
The Bridgewater Jerry has been lurking around Hobart a fair bit over the last week or so. Finally I remembered to take my camera with me.
There's a few more photos here.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Monday-Friday: Mild Mannered Hairdresser
....But when Ben hangs up his shears for the weekend, no rabbit is safe from his steely gaze.
Project Scrumpy 2009
Click thru to Bonnington Brewery for some fine action pix of our first foray into the murky world of scrumpy making.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Cidermaking-a noble art
One of Julian Temperly's offciders fills our barrel on the way to ButlinsJulian Tmperley, of Burrow Hill Cider fame has been granted the freedom of The City of London. Which apparently gives him the right to drive sheep over London Bridge.
Julian's the guy who brings the much-loved Cider Bus to Glastonbury festival every year.
He has been selling his fantastic scrumpy at Avalon since the first festival in 1971.I've been to his cidery on at least three occasions, the last being our infamous trip to the All Tommorrow's Parties festival at Butlins in Minehead. We filled a home brew barrel with Burrow Hill Scrumpy (at a pound a litre or so!) and proceeded to drink it all over three days. A shedload cheaper, and a load more refreshing (and alcoholic!) than the slop lager they were flogging for four quid a pint! We were quite creative in our methods of smuggling past the door goons.
Anyhow, congratulations to Julian on his award. May the Burrow Hill flow for many years to come.
Coincidentally, I'm collecting 250 litres of apple juice from the Huon Valley this afternoon for the very same purpose; that of making loads of scrumpy. Watch out for my flock coming over the brow of the Tasman Bridge! Though I don't think cidermaking is a guaranteed direct path to freedom (of the city).
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Fiddle de de POTATO
Or....WHICH TASSIE SPUD DO I USE?
THOSE of us fortunate enough to reside on this island of Tasmania will be all too aware of the infinite variety of potatoes grown and sold in the land of Van Diemen.When I moved from Hobart to Sydney (via Orange) almost two decades ago, I was horrified to discover that the only taters available in the shops were washed, brushed or new. The streets may have been paved with gold, but there was not a Pinkeye or Bismarck to be had.
One of the issues with having such a bountiful supply of numerous spud species was remembering which tattie was good for what method of preparation, eg mashing, boiling, salad, chips or roasting.
Well, help is at hand, my fellow Tuberites! The good bureaucrats at the Department of Primary Industries and Water have put together a chart which cross-references TWENTY FIVE varieties of potato against six methods of preparation.
I saw a printout of it stuck to the shelf at the Hill Street Grocer about a year ago, and saved it to my web favourites very soon after that.
And now, dear reader, I share it with you. Click here, listen to the government, and never wonder what makes the best mash ever again.
Tassieblather, the consumer's friend.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Wrongfully Imprisoned for 27 years, but cough up for room and board.
Andrew Mallard has been awarded $3.25 million as compensation for the twelve years he spent behind bars in Western Australia for a murder he didn't commit. This figure is nowhere near a just amount for the more than a decade spent behind bars. No amount of money can ever compensate for that loss.
In the UK on March 9 this year, Sean Hodgson was released after 27 years in prison. He was, like Mallard in WA, banged up for a murder he didn't commit.
Hodgson will undoubtedly be eventually compensated by the British Government for this miscarriage of justice. Unlike Australia, however (as far as I am aware), he will have his payout docked for almost three decades' worth of room and board (or "saved living expenses" as they call it). His lawyers estimate this will be at least 100,000 pounds. Don't believe it? It's happened before!
Greatest justice system in the world, eh?
In the UK on March 9 this year, Sean Hodgson was released after 27 years in prison. He was, like Mallard in WA, banged up for a murder he didn't commit.
Hodgson will undoubtedly be eventually compensated by the British Government for this miscarriage of justice. Unlike Australia, however (as far as I am aware), he will have his payout docked for almost three decades' worth of room and board (or "saved living expenses" as they call it). His lawyers estimate this will be at least 100,000 pounds. Don't believe it? It's happened before!
Greatest justice system in the world, eh?
Monday, May 04, 2009
As Cities Go From Two Papers to One, Talk of Zero
The history of The Seattle Post-Intelligencer stretches back more than two decades before Washington became a state, but after 146 years of publishing, the paper is expected to print its last issue next week, perhaps surviving only in a much smaller online version.
At least Denver, Seattle and Tucson still have daily papers. But now, some economists and newspaper executives say it is only a matter of time — and probably not much time at that — before some major American city is left with no prominent local newspaper at all.
Many critics and competitors of newspapers — including online start-ups that have been hailed as the future of journalism — say that no one should welcome their demise.
Stop press
Stop press
Across the country, local newspapers are being cut to the bone or closed down. Is regional journalism doomed? And if it is, what does that mean for local democracy?
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Braz and Scott age disgracefully
As per the previous story, I turned forty recently. Braz followed last weekend, on April 26. To celebrate these auspicious events, we had a party on March 28 at the Derwent Mercantile Rowing Club just upstream from the Tasman Bridge on the Derwent. It was a grand affair, with two barrels of ale, a disc jockey and lashings of beetroot and chocolate cake, lovingly baked by Katie and Sophie, to Caroline's recipe.
It all ended in tears and the crack of leather on skin. Wouldn't have had it any other way.
There's some photos here (NSFW in the slightest).
And Simon has an album of photos here. Some general Hobart tourist snaps mixed in to the bag, as they came down from Sydney especially, as did Louisa from Vegas. Thanks y'all!
My Birthday
It was my 40th birthday over a month ago now. I think I've now adjusted enough to life in my fifth decade to release stories and photos of this event.
For my actual birthday, Katie took me to a town a bit north of Hobart called Melbourne.
For lunch, we went to a fantastic restaurant called Transport, where I had rabbit, and Katie had Wagyu Beef, washed down with lashings of expensive wine.
It was fantastic. We stayed at the Rialto on Collins Street, a flashy five star joint that had only just been reopened. Quite a stunning setting, the main atrium is actually an old laneway between two former market buildings.
After a post-lunch siesta we headed west on Melbourne's fantastic public transprt system (that makes Sydney's look like downtown Berlin, circa August 1945) to my cousin Andrew's pub, Grumpy's Green, where we met up with Alexis, John, Robbie, and Phil. Oh and the landlord, who insisted that I sample all manner of strange ale, lager and porter. Unfortunately, nobody thought to take any photos.
Anyhow, that was my actual birthday, March 25 to be precise. Thank you Katie for making it so amazing, and for helping me to ease into my dotage that little bit easier.
For my actual birthday, Katie took me to a town a bit north of Hobart called Melbourne.
It was fantastic. We stayed at the Rialto on Collins Street, a flashy five star joint that had only just been reopened. Quite a stunning setting, the main atrium is actually an old laneway between two former market buildings.After a post-lunch siesta we headed west on Melbourne's fantastic public transprt system (that makes Sydney's look like downtown Berlin, circa August 1945) to my cousin Andrew's pub, Grumpy's Green, where we met up with Alexis, John, Robbie, and Phil. Oh and the landlord, who insisted that I sample all manner of strange ale, lager and porter. Unfortunately, nobody thought to take any photos.
Anyhow, that was my actual birthday, March 25 to be precise. Thank you Katie for making it so amazing, and for helping me to ease into my dotage that little bit easier.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Hobart's ANZAC Day Parade
Uncle Ian (behind RH shoulder of marshall in orange jacket) marches down Macquarie Street with his comrades. Larger view here.
Ian with a comrade in New Guinea, April 1944.
I headed down to the city, camera in hand ready to watch, and to get a couple of photos of my Uncle, Ian Tynan who served in the RAAF in New Guinea in WWII.
I got a perfect spot, right outside The Mercury building, and directly opposite the Town Hall, where the Governor takes the salute.
First off down Macquarie Street were five infrantry on their horses. Then came those no longer able to walk the parade route, ferried in buses, taxis and WWII Jeeps.
After that, came the various units and battalions, starting with the Boer War, then to WWI (our grandfather, Algy Tynan fought in the 1/12th). It's quite poignant and emotional to see the signs for the units being borne by schoolchildren, with no actual servicemen left. Pop died in 1974, and I think Tasmania's last WWI Veteran died about three or four years ago. I have quite vivid memories of going to the marches with Mum, Dad and Brent when we were kids.
The crew of the HMAS Darwin, in town for ANZAC Day duty were impressive as they marched past with "eyes righted" to the plinth.
As it got to the WWII units, I was keeping my eyes peeled for Ian and his crew. I don't know what happened, but I bloody well missed him as he marched straight past my vantage point. Luckily, I got a picture of the RAAF unit just as it left Franklin Square, and can make Ian out in the shot. Still, quite dissapointing that I missed him.
It's funny how my attitude has changed over the years, from a kid not really understanding what it was all about, to young adult, not wanting anything to do with the march, apart from the opportunity for another holiday, to now, where I'm thinking about what these people must have gone through, and how they're still here today. While I'm by no means a proponent of war as a means of resolving anything, I do thank those who marched, and those who didn't or couldn't for all they've done and been through for the greater good. And Ian, I'll get a much better picture next year!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Morgan Mark & Scott do Tassie
Reece Dam spillway.Morgan kindly decided to cross the ditch and come over to Tasmania over Easter. Of course, Mark and I sumised, this was cause for a roadtrip.
We picked the intrepid Dr Read up from Hobart International on Good Friday morning, and immediately set about heading west. Initial pub stops were at the Gretna Green and Derwent Bridge pubs. I decided to grace the public bar of one of the pubs in beautiful Queenstown while the lads did battle with the local greasy takeaway. Queenstown really is a unique place!
After Queenstown, we scooted up to Zeehan and in to Trial Harbour, a beautiful windswept bay dead on the West Coast proper. After a brisk stroll along the beach and a visit to the history rooms, we departed Trial and headed for our accomodation at the Heemskirk Motor Inn. I suspected we may have been up for a ropey meal when I asked if the seafood basket was local. "Nuh" came the swift reply. Rightio, steak and veg it was then. Kinda hard to bugger that one up I reckon. Ordered rare, it came out medium-rare. Perfecto (oops, it was Good friday! Sorry, pope!).
Post dinner saw us demolish a few coldies and start on the Glenmorangie back in the motel room.
Saturday we departed beautiful Zeehan by 9.30, and pointed Mark's Henry in the general direction of Cradle Mountain. We ended up going over the Pieman River Road, and across the Reece Dam. Think we went almost two hours without seeing another vehicle. No matter your thoughts re: the mighty Hydro, they did build some bloody amazing infrastructure in their time. after a reasonable lunch and (finally) some caffeine at the Cradle Mountain Chateau (of course, owned by Federal and funded by Pokie revenue) we entered the National Park and did a three point five hour walk to Marion's Lookout, just below the summit of Cradle Mountain. Spectacular views all round, for sure.
On the Overland Track
Saturday night we stayed at the Gowrie Park Backpacker accomodation, at $15 for individual two-bunk unit things, the place was pretty basic, but after a hearty meal at the Sheffield Pub and much home brew and whisky in the common room, we all slept like dead men.
Sunday morning we departed via brekky at a cafe in Sheffield for a pretty straightforward belt back to Hobart.
You've gotta love a roadtrip!
Mark surveys all at his feet.
At Marion's Lookout. Cradle Mountain in background.Thursday, April 09, 2009
Today on Sullivans Cove
There's a ship (The Bryggen from Bergen) tied up on Macquarie Wharf. They've flooded the front holds so as they can work on the propellor or something similar.
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