Returning to Sydney

Forgive me an indulgence to start with. Well, if you give it enough thought, this whole thing is an indulgence, I suppose. The first part of this week’s missive covers family, not travel so much.

When visiting Sydney this time it gave me the greatest honour to catch up with family. To be accurate my Dad’s cousin, Fred, his wife, Dawn, and their daughter, Anne, and her husband, Reuben. It also led to a couple of very emotional moments; firstly, in a churchyard and, secondly, in a retirement home.

Let’s start by rewinding the tape a bit back to the last couple of episodes. You will recall that we were due to visit my cousin Peter and his husband, Jamie, in Northern Victoria but were thwarted by the catastrophic fires of the time. To link things together, Peter is brother to Anne. The churchyard will see us visit their late sibling, Steven.

Anne and Reuben had just dropped their daughter, Catherine, they also have a son called Ben, off to the airport for a trip to the Philippines as I recall. Great, they could pick us up on the way back, I am always for saving a train or taxi fare. First stop was a coffee shop in Wahroonga, directly opposite the church. Here we had a vegetarian breakfast and plentiful coffee. It also gave us the chance to catch up on about fifteen years of not seeing one another. We were never short of something to say.

After breakfast we strolled across to the church. Here we stopped to pay homage to Anne and Peter’s late brother, without whom I may not have developed a passion for Australia and, who knows, travelling. Once bitten and all that sort of thing! Jane who, to be fair, didn’t really know Steven that well, observed as Anne and I stepped forward to the graveside where his ashes are interred, and she reckoned we both had watery eyes. I have to say I did find it a little bit moving. Actually, a big bit moving! Steven, who was a few months younger than me, was taken from us far too early. He died in December 2016 at his beloved Nelson Bay home, a place Jane and I were fortunate enough to visit in 1989.

Just a side note here, Wahroonga is very dear to me as I had the good fortune of representing its soccer team back in the early eighties. Many good memories. One even greater memory from those halcyon days were the regular fishing trips I took with Steven, Peter and Anne’s father. Every Saturday we would get up before light and head along to Lane Cove. We would take the slightly perilous track to our fishing rock. I think it would be nigh on impossible for me to walk this route now with my failing vision. Nonetheless, I have walked it many times in my imagination. We would sit for hours, putting the world to rights and not catching a bloody thing.

The first Saturday that I didn’t go with him, I had journeyed up north, Fred, of course, got a bite. Did I believe him? Of course I did. At least, I’d like to believe it. Those long-gone days have left their mark as they often crop up in my dreams. I am not always with Fred. Once, even, I was with Curt and Sue-Beth, the main two characters from my stories. I am not sure that they constitute a dream when Sue-Beth is involved, more a nightmare. She is not a very forgiving lady and can soon make it obvious if she doesn’t like you.

Fred and Dawn had recently moved into shared accommodation in a local retirement home. I always remember Fred telling me he did not want to lose his mental faculties. I understand this, he was an exceptionally clever man. He had been at the forefront of introducing television to Australia from the fifties onwards. Here he met the glamorous and vivacious Romper Room presenter, Miss Dawn, the equivalent of our Miss Rosalind to those of you of a certain age. The rest, as they say, is history.

Dawn was her ever ebullient self and knew who we were at once. It took Fred a little longer but he was with us in the end. The memory floodgates opened and we had a very long and emotional conversation. He had nearly persuaded my father to go and join him, they both came from long lines of engineers and, I am sure, would have made a formidable pair. I was within a whisker of being brought up an Aussie, a ten-pound Pom. We will never know what might have been. I am, nonetheless, very pleased with the way my life has worked out. Like Fred, I went onto meet and marry a wonderful woman who gave me, also like Fred, three wonderful children. I pray everyday that I will never have to suffer the same anguish as Fred and Dawn as a parent.

Alas, it was time to say goodbye. As it happens, it was for the last time. Both Fred and Dawn have now passed. At least Dawn was able to see the marriage of Peter to his partner, Jamie, following the long overdue relaxation of same sex marriage restrictions.

When I wrote the short story, “Rescue on an African River” and, indeed, Sue-Beth Walters’s bio on the website, I found myself needing a maiden name for a young Sue-Beth. I knew what I wanted and, once I had received Peter and Anne’s blessing, Susan Elizabeth Kenyon’s early life was created.

Rest in Eternal Peace, my Australian Mum and Dad. I am still going fishing in my mind and hope I never lose the memory.

Up on the Bridge

If the above was the emotional highlight of this visit to Sydney, the next bit is the physical highlight.

The Sydney Harbour Bridge, affectionately known as the Old Coat-hanger, has reached out across the water, joining both shores together, since 1932. As I have mentioned before, the word “iconic” is sometimes handed out like confetti to some less than deserving landmarks. This arched monument to an incredible engineering feat is, without a shadow of a doubt, more than deserving of the title.

Prior to this trip I had crossed and seen this marvel from just about every angle. I had crossed it conventionally by car and train, I have walked the footpaths to both sides, I think, and in 1982, during its 50th anniversary, it was closed to traffic, and I, along with thousands of others, had been lucky enough to walk across on the road-deck.

Also, during my Sydney stay in 1982 I was lucky enough to join a news helicopter to fly over the harbour. Our mission was to track a Beatle. George Harrison was coming in on his private yacht. I can’t imagine the unsullied joy of passing through the bastions of Port Jackson, the name of the harbour, the North and South Heads; who knows? One day. Our cameraman was filming another helicopter which was tasked with landing on George’s helipad to effect an interview. Mission completed, the pilot asked me if I would like to see some of the sights from above. I certainly didn’t need a second invitation.

First of all, we flew over the riveted structure of the bridge. Truly incredible. Then, hovering up above the pilot asked me if I would like to see it from below. I said I had already seen it on a harbour boat cruise. What followed, to this day, remains one of the most scary moments of my life. We dropped like a stone, heading for what looked like from above the smallest of letterbox gaps between the road and the water. My eyes were closed and my stomach had been left a few thousand feet above. As it caught up I opened my eyes in time for one of the most incredible views of the underside of the bridge that only a few can have experienced. What an absolute privilege that was. I have never been in a helicopter since and have no intention of doing so again. I wonder if Rupert Murdoch knew that one of his choppers had been used for a pom’s sightseeing tour? I somehow doubt it, but thanks Rupe!

Now, nearly 38 years later, Jane and I were booked in for the now world famous bridge climb. Whenever you speak to anyone who has gone to Sydney you ask them if they have done the bridge climb? Of course they have, it is now something for every Tom, Dick and Harriet.

One thing that set the bridge climb apart from the Adelaide Oval was the fact that one had to remove all their clothing before fitting themselves into a jumpsuit. Good idea! When we emerged from the roof climb in Adelaide we were dripping with sweat. This time, the temperature was much more temperate and having left all our clothes in a locker we could freshen up before redressing. Brilliant idea! Once dressed we were put through our paces on some internal cat ladders. It is no good someone freezing up on the bridge as there is no getting past them. Everyone passed with glowing colours.

We were off. Out onto the bridge, passing out of the south tower onto the eastern arch. It was a little disconcerting to see the traffic and trains passing below us, reminding us of what a grisly end awaited us if we fell. There was no chance of that happening as we were fixed to the bridge through a safety lanyard and rail, similar to Adelaide. Off we went. The ascent was a little steep as we set off but soon began to level off as we got to the higher reaches of the arch. In the end it was much like a stroll along a country lane.

We arrived at the top of the arch where the NSW and Australian flags were mounted. It was at this point we crossed over to the western arch, after posing for photos and videos, for the descent. Everything was tied on including a baseball cap and a handkerchief which, I think, was really intended for wiping away sweat on a hot day. Imagine the chaos that might be caused if a piece of clothing were to flutter down onto a car below. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

All completed and in one piece, we changed back into civvies and waited for our photographs to be ready. Despite there being no real cost to memorable pictures these days, they weren’t cheap. At least it proved we had done it. We also got a certificate. Wow! A great few hours. I would thoroughly recommend that anyone visiting Sydney pops along and does this; if you don’t, you will regret it for the rest of your life.

Casa del Mar – Your Home by the Sea

What a strapline: Your Home by the Sea. I know I’ve said it before when I wrote about our visit here in 2023, but it certainly lives up to that claim. It is everything a beachside holiday should be. And, that is what we were now on, holiday. Up until this point, in Singapore, I would say we had been travelling. Laying ahead were ten days of absolute relaxation. Take it easy on a massive scale. Settled into our suite we went down to the cabana beachside bar for some refreshment.

I am sure you all know what it’s like, when you check into a hotel the receptionist will ask, inanely in my opinion, “Have you been here before?”

Here was different. They knew we had been before and it was like the welcoming home of the prodigal son and daughter. They already knew we were returning, and therefore, valuable guests. Don’t you agree, that gets you off to a great start? We had a great time and I will cover this further in the coming weeks. We left with many memories and, dare I say it, as many new friends. It is very easy to get on with like-minded people isn’t it?