Many an hour did I spend, and many a person did I meet
And now look! This popped up on my Mastodon where long ago I sought shelter from the evil X….
Did you use it?
So I did a search here on this blog.
2000 to 2004 — instances of ICQ
5 February 2002 Wet day crushes cutlets
It has been very wet the past few days.
Just this afternoon in Devonshire Street, Surry Hills, a very large plane tree pulled away from the waterlogged soil and fell straight onto the dining area of the hotel where just last Thursday I had dined on cutlets and mash, while my dining companion had a pasta dish. Now it really is mashed. Quite a sight and probably for the TV news tonight.
Glad it wasn’t last Thursday, which does raise the question of whether there were any diners. I did not see any ambulances.
Belvoir Street Surry Hills from my balcony, 2010.
10 February 2002 Bag snatch, little girls, death of a Princess
I had just shut down the computer last night after talking on ICQ about Princess Margaret (among other things) when I heard a noise on my front balcony. Foolishly I had left the screen door unlocked when I had gone out onto the balcony a little earlier. Looking up I saw a shadowy figure jump over the balcony rail. (I am on the ground floor.)
I rushed out onto the balcony but of course saw no-one. Then I saw that my backpack was missing.
I then went outside, passing on the way to the stairs that lead to Elizabeth Street a boy and girl of darkish complexion sitting on the stairs that lead to the block of units fronting Elizabeth Street. This is at about midnight. The girl was just getting up, but I took little notice as sometimes one does see people waiting, say, for a flatmate to get home to let them in.
I checked up and down the street, hypothesising that as soon as the thieves saw all they had was a bag of English textbooks (and rubbish) they would simply throw it away. Unfortunately my organiser/diary was in the bag too, but contained no cards of value. Those I always keep on me. There was one potential loss however–the floppy disk with the most up-to-date version of my school NESB database.
I found nothing, but on returning saw the young couple had gone. I looked where they had been–and there was my bag, all the stuff emptied out, but nothing missing.
From the balcony looking towards Elizabeth Street.
Sunday July 16, 2000
Welcome to Jason who reads these pages from the USA.
July 14 was, of course, French National Day. But also someone had something on then: what was it? Oh yes, HAPPY BIRTHDAY (again).
Friday night I took back some poems to J***s at the Albury and we had a really good talk about his marriage, his life, the impact of religion in his life, and many other matters. We were joined by Ian Smith. I noticed a hole appearing in the back of my jeans and as I investigated with my finger, the hole suddenly assumed alarming proportions. Now before I go on I should say that I normally wear jocks or boxers, but sometimes (never at work or if expecting company) I “hang loose”–partly for comfort, partly to save washing! This night I was hanging loose and soon felt cool night air on my gluteus maximus. Fortunately my sweater could be pulled down. Well, I left the “sacred site” around 9.30 to 10.00 after 4 beers, but though I had had 3 hours to consume them, I hadn’t eaten yet, so I was a little tipsy. I crossed Oxford Street and ran almost straight into a student (aged about 16) from the school where I work. He greeted me and started telling me about Woodie Allen: I was rather conscious of my (invisible) bare-arsed state and my tipsiness. I did not of course refer to the former, but the latter was apparent, so I asked if he was in the habit of accosting half-pissed teachers in Oxford Street. Being a good-humoured young man, he just smiled and said “Not really!!” Not my first such encounter over the years in Oxford Street I must say.
So I then had a meal (at last) and came home. Last night was very quiet, aside from some rather dark talk here at one point. Downloaded ICQ after first Ian Smith and then my young friend had pointed out its advantages.
On ICQ I am Ninglun Wu only, not the Anglophone version my parents gave me.
The Albury Hotel
Sunday, December 3, 2000
I hope to dedicate December, one way or another, to love and understanding. Today it is the turn of my ICQ friend Atakan, a young (not gay) teacher in Turkey. He is quite a devout follower of Islam, but not a fundamentalist; indeed he found some elements of this site a bit shocking, but still talks to me Given that here the popular image of Islam is coloured by media reports of extremism and violence, it is as well to reflect on the fact that this is a distortion. Here, for example, is what Atakan recently messaged me:
ATAKAN ALI 11/30/00 8:08 AM : “Be so tolerant that your bosom becomes wide like the ocean. Become inspired with faith and love of human beings. Let there be no troubled souls to whom you do not offer a hand, and about whom you remain unconcerned.”
ninglun 11/30/00 4:41 PM: That’s very beautiful. Thanks.
27 Aug 2001
.Snow near Sydney…and Ninglun videoed + questionnaire
It has been so cold in Sydney today–that means 12C maximum, but a cold wind blowing off very heavy snow up the Great Dividing Range and as far north as Tamworth. It is quite moving to see the Falun Gong demonstrators all rugged up continuing their 133 hour sit outside the Chinese Consulate. Whatever the actual merits of their practices, one can’t help but be impressed with their dignity, and some of them are quite old.
The UTS Research project began today and I was subjected to an hour interview which was videotaped, the interviewer being Dr Jenny Hammond from UTS. It took place in “The Cave” (my office, in a manner of speaking) which looks rather different from last year It didn’t help that the Library mislaid the Cave key this morning; fortunately the General Assistant found a copy in a mysterious bunch of keys he held.
Yesterday’s entry, I should add, is more tentative than it may have looked; it is really part of a process of getting my own head around the contradictions and tensions that current Australian society presents. Much is good, it should be recalled. Every Saturday in Chinatown I see regularly couples or friendship groups that transcend all kinds of divisions, practical marriages of unity and diversity. That is the way I hope it goes.
Dare I mention I am giving up smoking again? Keep on at me! Wait and see….
Monday, August 7 2000
I thought people might find this amusing and interesting. It is a report I have written for our school newsletter:
Chinese students
Last Saturday the visiting students from Hangzhou returned to China. On Friday morning at a morning tea in their honour all five students spoke eloquently (in English) of the kindness they had experienced with their host families and here at our school. Two indeed wrote poems in English for the occasion; as these are to be published elsewhere I cannot use them here. In keeping with the multicultural nature of the occasion, I congratulated their teacher, Mr Xu, in very brief and halting Mandarin, on the students’ skill in English. Here are some more examples of the students’ writing.
“Differences between Australian culture and Chinese culture
“1. The Chinese don’t show their feelings to others. There are no kissing or hugging. For example, a Chinese boy will do lots of things for his girlfriend, but he won’t say ‘I love you.’
“The Australian people are quite different. When you see an Australian people, you can know his feeling, happy or unhappy. It’s very easy. When someone disagree an idea, an Australian will say: ‘You are wrong.’ A Chinese will say, ‘Maybe you are right, but I have another idea.’
“Family is important to Chinese. A Chinese can do everything for family, even to die. The most familiar people is his wife, son, then his friend.
“I think the most important thing for an Australian is himself. When he is 18 years old, his father is his friend, not a father again. I find there are a lot of people have pet, a dog or a cat. That may be because he don’t have a child. The pet is his child.
“In all, there are many differences between the two cultures.”
–Duri
“2. (Australians) think if you like it, you should say. And if you hate it, you should let him know. But people in China do something different. For example, a guest wouldn’t say any of the meal is terrible, though it really is. He would force himself to eat it and try not to show his embarrassment. Because he think it is the custom.
“Second, Australians respect a people’s ideas more than people in China do. Parents wouldn’t let children to decisions to their own business. But in China parents would do more decisions for children, no matter if their children like. If you have a choice, the Australian would let you make it yourself, but Chinese people would give you more suggestions and even decide for you.”
— Robert
Wednesday night, 16 August 2000
Ian Smith ICQ’d last night that there would be an “inter-month” yumcha next Sunday at a different restaurant, one MP has recommended–something to look forward to on a cold wet night after a day that has been too quiet. Those changes in the Ninglun establishment will take some getting used to, for all that I have really been well looked after. Still, the evidence so far does seem to point to the events having turned out for the best really. No more that I can say in this forum.
Reading another detective story–average, and I’ve worked out who did it!
Sunday, August 20 2000
Yumcha lived up to expectations. The Golden Harbour proved to be indeed better than the Silver Spring in many respects–the portions were more generous, fresher, and piping hot. It may have been a little more expensive at $15 per head, but we had only five people (myself, Ian Smith, J***s, PK, Sirdan–who is having terrible trouble trying to extract his birth certificate from the Mugabe government). There is definitely an economy of scale in yumcha.
The Golden Harbour
2 June 2004: A short one today — possibly a relief to my readers after the past couple.
I still feel like death, a bit of a contrast to last Wednesday, eh! It’s ironic that this cold (flu?) came on the very day I was meant to be having a flu shot at the Salt Mine, but even I knew it is foolish to have a flu shot when you are already fighting off an infection. Madam cheered me up no end by telling me that Jerry had a flu shot and was dead two weeks later…
I may give in and go to the doctor today. So far I have only missed one day at the Salt Mine, as Monday I don’t work anyway and today there is a strike. We’ll see if I am up to going tomorrow, but I certainly won’t go coaching this afternoon.
At least one consolation is that the broken tooth (it fell apart during Sunday’s lunch with the Empress and Sirdan) is not hurting, but I can’t do anything about that anyway until I am over this present episode.
Delenio greeted me via ICQ last night — first time for ages. Sent get well greetings, as he apparently still reads this diary. He is deep in some essay on historiography and finding “poor historians” (both Keith Windschuttle and his haters) very frustrating. Last time Delenio and I talked about this he was rather taken with Sir Geoffrey Elton on this subject.
(“Delenio” had been a member of the SBHS Class of 2000. Now he is a lawyer, married with children…)
Neil's Commonplace Book 