Saturday 10th October – Brisbane Open House


I got up early, and felt basically the same as I’ve felt the last few days, except that I have to go out today so I took 500mg of paracetamol and 30mg of codeine. I then found that I could talk! Sure, it hurt a lot and didn’t sound like a living person, but it’s a huge step-up from the past week when I’ve varied between being able to make painful grunting noises, through to no noises at all.

Translational Research Institute

Feeling mighty impressed with my new-found talking skills, and a little bit like a drug abuser, I drove—with Bronwen—to the Translational Research Institute at the Princess Alexandra Hospital, where after some rushing about, we managed to meet up with Bronwen’s parents and the tour group just as they were leaving (quite literally—they had just left when we got there, and we still had to put our security armbands on). The building is quite fancy and everyone said good things about it. As far as I can tell, nothing escaped, no one was bitten by anything, and no one turned into a superhero.

A fancy fountain at the Translational Research InstituteThe main biggest thing at the Translational Research InstituteUs, in a liftThe Translational Research InstituteFancy lightsPeople at the Translational Research Institute look at Brisbane through rose coloured glassOne of the working areas at the Translational Research InstituteThe Translational Research InstituteNed stuck in a small hole at the Translational Research InstituteOur group asking questionsA lecture theatre at the Translational Research InstituteSomeone went a bit crazy with the lightsBecause empty spaces are empty unless you fill them with thingsThe front of the Translational Research InstituteThe Translational Research InstituteA PA duckThe PA pre-injuring children

Spring Hill Reservoirs

After the unfortunate lack of superheros we dropped past Woolworths where I bought an iced coffee for breakfast (and because milk is good for my throat, as well as for strong healthy bones, Australian farmers, and baby cows) and then drove into the city, where we went to the Spring Hill Reservoirs. They were interesting—but I had been hoping for something a bit more underground and forbidden.

The Old WindmillSpring Hill ReservoirsBronwen in Spring Hill ReservoirsPhotographers in Spring Hill ReservoirsSpring Hill ReservoirsThe outside of Spring Hill Reservoirs

IndigoJungle Interior Styling Garden Studio

After the reservoirs we drove to IndigoJungle Interior Styling Garden Studio in Ashgrove, where we were let in on a little secret—all the bookings-required places “sell out” almost immediately, because crappy people go “oh maybe I might want to go” and book them—but often less than half the people actually turn up, so chances are you can go to any of the booked things and fit into a spare spot when people don’t turn up. Anyway, IndigoJungle’s studio was quite interesting—it was literally “just a shed”—but a very fancy and cleverly designed one.

A table at IndigoJungle Interior Styling Garden StudioIndigoJungle Interior Styling Garden StudioBronwen chatting to the owner of the IndigoJungle Interior Styling Garden StudioIndigoJungle Interior Styling Garden Studio from the outside

Dornoch Terrace House

After “the shed” we drove to Torbreck in Highgate Hill—where I’ve always wanted to get into the observation deck—to test out this “let’s just turn up at fully booked out places” thing, but unfortunately they’d finished for the day and it had turned back into a normal house. However, just down the road there were a huge number of people squeezing into a tiny staircase, so we walked down there and had a look at Dornoch Terrace House instead. It was quite interesting in a strange, quirky kind of way—a good example of what happens if you let architects build their own houses.

Dornoch Terrace House features many non-regulation-width staircasesDornoch Terrace House showing off another of its non-regulation width staircasesDornoch Terrace House also features non-regulation width walkwaysThe crowd being told about the purchase and build of Dornoch Terrace HouseBronwen demonstrating one of the many things I am sure council did not approveDornoch Terrace House

Archerfield Airport

It now being quite late, we rushed—via a Coles to buy a lamington for Ned’s throat—to Archerfield Airport, where we found that everything was sort of closed. The RACQ Careflight hangar was locked, despite it being supposed to be open until four, and there was only one remaining bus tour of the airfield—though when we got on it not everyone fit, so they halved the time (which the guide apologised for repeatedly) and gave us a quick tour and ran another one after for the remaining people.

Archerfield AirportAirside at Archerfield AirportEMQ rescue helicopter at Archerfield AirportA runway at Archerfield Airport

Saddened by our lack of superheroes and careflight helicopters—but very excited with our new ability to talk—we drove home.


I had soup and garlic bread for dinner—obviously.