From my jottings through the month.
I think 2026 will go down in history as the year AI came to town – fully – in our everyday lives – the word on everyone’s lips. It’s arrived in full force. Previously it was talked about casually, as if something out there, ahead, not to have to think about too much yet.
Now I am being tricked by it every day. Firstly in music. I heard a singer on Instagram with a beautiful voice. Went to Spotify to hear more. Just a perfect, syrupy male voice singing bluesy stuff. Added song after song to my library. That of course led me down a rabbit hole of discovering other beautiful singers – male and female. The song titles were absolutely fascinating, each one evoking curiosity, enticing me to listen to the story in the lyrics. Then I became suspicious. Everything was too perfect. Even the names of the ‘artists’ were other worldly. So I asked AI about this aspect of itself. Now, when I hear a song with this flavour I ask – ‘Is Elowine a human singer?’ ‘Is Aria Flux a human singer?’ And invariably they’re not. But soon I won’t even have to ask. I can mostly pick them now and its all too spooky.
Another aspect that makes me grumpy is the AI narration running alongside some documentaries. The scary thing is, will there be a time when this will be all that’s available, when human will and intervention will be powerless.
We watched a Sixty Minutes episode the other night about an Australian family who were living off-the-grid in a remote farm-house in Italy. Husband and wife with their three kids. The children were being home-schooled (not formally) – educated by their parents in wonderful life and survival skills. The home had very basic amenities and so the Italian authorities took it upon themselves to remove the kids and place them in foster care. It shattered the family. The kids were traumatised and terrified in their new environment. It smacks of what happened to our Aboriginal kids years ago.
While I was watching this heart-breaking story, I couldn’t help but think of some of the situations we brought our kids up in. In our great trip of the early seventies, with our kids just two and three years old, we lived in a caravan for two years – much of that time in the Outback. Water was scarce. Sometimes we just sponge-bathed in a plastic baby bath. We all slept in the same room (the caravan). We often cooked on a camp-fire. We rugged up against the cold, and in extreme summer heat, air-conditioning in the 4WD as we travelled was a wet towel in the open window. Even though our kids were very young, they learned some invaluable life skills and saw and experienced the vast and magnificent diversities of our country. It is still imprinted in their psyches.
We love watching Rick Stein’s series – especially the Australian one at the moment. The way he combines the preparing of regional foods with the beauty of the area’s surrounds, makes it a complete package for us. He recently showed us The Sapphire Coast, and the little town of Mollymook – population 2,000. Rick has a house here and also a restaurant – Rick Stein at Bannisters. We’ve decided to take a road trip to that destination. It will be next year – probably autumn.
I was going to tell you a little more about our trip to Broken Hill.
On day one, after our beautiful Australian bush lead in, we checked in to our motel and drove into town. For those of you who haven’t been to Broken Hill, it has a very long main street. We walked some of it, looking for somewhere nice to eat that night. Mario’s Palace Hotel had been recommended to us. We called in but the place was in minor chaos with a band setting up for that night. We asked could we book in for dinner but the girl behind the bar couldn’t help us. ‘You’ll need to speak to Sonya,’ she said.
‘Where will we find her?’
‘Sorry I don’t know where she is at the moment.’
I guess we could have done it online, but we didn’t because we found a delightful place called The Kitchen.
Broken Hill is basically a big country town and doesn’t have a lot of modern restaurants. You know I like to experience the true, authentic character of a town, but the food, service and atmosphere here at The Kitchen were so comforting that we went back the next night.
On day 2 we visited the Pro Hart gallery. Something new for Leigh. I’d been before but this time I looked at Pro’s work with more appreciative eyes. His work has always been popular but in the past I’ve found it light-hearted and a bit kitsch. It IS that but his colours, interpretations and impressions of the unique environment he painted, are so true. I didn’t realise his insights were sometimes surreal. The amount of work he put out in his lifetime is amazing. There is a lot of history to be gleaned in this gallery too.
Next day we visited the Railway Museum. We spent hours here. To be amongst the old trains and all the associated memorabilia and artefacts was to revisit childhood. What was so romantic about the trains of old? Walking down the aisles and remembering the utter excitement as a kid, I felt a sorrow, over the disappearance of these times and experiences. To visit a place like this is the only way we can revisit now, thanks to the train buffs of the world. When things we loved are gone forever, what do we do, other than go into our minds, or visit a place like this. Isn’t this going to be happening faster and faster now? Phases of life, the way we have lived, are going to be flashing by. Won’t we be saying and feeling ‘Slow down, it’s going too quick.’ I don’t know. The younger generations might be saying ‘Bring it on. We can’t wait to see what comes next.’
My own places and things that brought me pleasure can no longer be found – the corner store in a suburb, and its glorious food smells – fresh bread, fruit, vegetables, aniseed balls. The sound of the milkman with his clinking milk bottles, the clip clop of the baker’s horse drawing a van of still-warm loaves before dawn.
Oh I am digressing. Back to Broken Hill. We visited the City Art Gallery. I couldn’t believe my eyes when we walked through the door. It is a spectacular space. The main exhibition at the time was of works by Ann Evers – exquisite weavings and basketry that gave me goosebumps to look at. I must share what she wrote –
‘These works are based on a lifetime of walking and observing traces left on this desert land that I have been fortunate enough to call my home. They examine changes that have occurred and stories surrounding those changes.
The works make use of a diverse range of plants both local and introduced, found objects and a range of techniques from around the world. The materials and techniques tell a story of the pathways taken by humans as they traversed this earth and the changes they have brought.
I believe that to care for this country we need to begin by observing and experiencing the land at our doorstep. It is only by walking and using all our senses that we begin to discover the intricate, fragile patterns of desert lands, that hold so many stories both ancient and more recent.’
– Ann Evers
Ann lives in an old stone cottage on the edge of Broken Hill, surrounded by her own much loved native and cottage garden.
The memory of this exhibition will stay with me a long time.
We went out to Silverton of course – such an historic, now almost deserted settlement. I think it’s the Mad Max museum that attracts most visitors. I love reading the plaques at each building, to get a sense of the history of the place. It is hard country, and you have to wonder at the bravery of the people who came to live out here. Back in the days of settlement it was the ore out of the ground that brought them to Broken Hill – the silver, lead and zinc. It became one of Australia’s wealthiest cities. Today the boom is over and what brings income to the town is tourism.
Out near Silverton is a Sculpture park. Set up on a hill with a three hundred and sixty degree view of the surrounding desert, it is a precinct that hushes your thinking for a while. As you walk amongst them, they dominate, but in a gentle way.
We were away five days, which was just enough time to experience this very unique part of our country. Each trip is something to tuck away in another little pocket of our lives.
We had another gathering of our poets’ yesterday. I was going to put up the two poems I shared, but this day is almost over. Perhaps I’ll post them here before my next main blog.
Take care,
Warmly,
Sue
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