It’s time for another public confession. Because clearly, I am not on track to have a stellar public health career given how much strange personal oversharing that I do. The latest thing that I want to admit to you is that sometimes, when working on or looking through the list of COVID-19 exposure venues, I start getting inspired. Knowing that a place is associated with COVID-19 should be a deterrent for normal people. But clearly, I’m a bit of an odd one.

One place on that list that I went to recently (but luckily, on the weekend before it became an exposure site) was the giant Salvo’s Store in Tempe, affectionately known to locals as the “Tempe Tip”. For those of you not from our part of the world, Salvo’s Stores are thrift stores (we call them op shops in our Aussie dialect) run by the Salvation Army. The really big ones are mind-boggling in terms of the sheer quantity of second-hand items. There was one near my university that was basically my source of costumes for performing in six years of med school sketch comedy shows. The Tempe Tip is situated in the bit of no-man’s land (actually, traditional Kameygal land … let’s not accidentally repeat that terra nullius atrocity) just outside the boundaries of the international airport here in Sydney. (Yes, I do rather gravitate towards airports, don’t I?) Of course, the colloquial name comes from the fact that people dump all kinds of unwanted items there. But it also commemorates a rubbish tip that did exist nearby and caught on fire. When I went, the store looked a little bit under-stocked. I am also one of the least patient op shoppers ever. But despite all that, I did manage to find what I came for: something warm and woolly for the cold months ahead. I do wonder, though, what impact the lockdown might have on op shops and the charities that they help fund. Given that pretty much all clothing retail is online now, it would mean that people are mostly buying new rather than second-hand. But would people be cleaning out their wardrobes more during lockdown, and end up donating more when everything opens back up again? I guess we’ll wait and see. The depressing thing is that it’s looking increasingly likely that this wait will be at least another couple of months.

Another place on the list is a cafe (I won’t name the business here, but you can look it up online on the NSW Health website if you really want) in Mittagong, a town in the Southern Highlands region, not far from Sydney. Since the beginning of last year, I’ve passed through the area a few times on my way to and from Canberra. I’ve always been amused at the term “Southern Highlands”. In general, Aussies like to make fun of themselves, so I don’t know why we don’t frequently mention the fact that our country is topographically like a pancake. Mittagong sits proudly at an elevation of 635m above sea level, as one of the slightly browner, more burnt pancake bits.

Mittagong sits on the traditional land of the Gundangara people. Unfortunately, we don’t hear much about them because firstly, we’re incredibly Sydney-centric, even in our coverage of Indigenous history. And secondly, because the Gundangara were so decimated by colonial persecution and imported diseases that they didn’t have a chance to be more prominent. I’m glad that the name of the town does bear witness to this past, even though the exact documentation is so poor that there are a few theories floating around about what “Mittagong” actually meant. Their land was appropriated quite quickly for commercial purposes once iron ore was discovered close by. There was also mining of oil shale, which was used to make kerosene (I had no idea) in the nearby town of Joadja. This became uneconomical and the shale mine closed in 1903. The place was abandoned to become a ghost town. It sounds pretty creepy. And the pictures look that way too. I’d like to visit one day, but not with anyone with a penchant for pranks, because I might really scream. And because there won’t be anyone else around to hear me, I’d scream some more.

But let’s try to make sure that I can sleep tonight. It’s getting pretty busy in public health at the moment, and I need to make sure that I can stay alert at work. Here’s a picture of the state heritage-listed buildings of the Mittagong railway station. It was only constructed in 1867. We probably have a slightly different working definition of “heritage” than that of our northern hemisphere friends. (Yes, we do have some significant Aboriginal sites on the list too, but I feel like there could be a lot more.) Other things that Mittagong had been famous for over the last 150 years included being the commercial refrigerated milk depot for Sydney, with the founding of the NSW Fresh Food & Ice Company in 1875. There’s also the Frensham School, a prestigious private girls’ school boasting a list of alumnae with impressive accolades that I don’t even dare to daydream about.

Anyhow, I think this is where I’ll leave this post for now. It feels a bit forced at the moment to write. We’re busy and short-staffed at work, and I’ve been trying to juggle a few different roles. That kind of energy has seeped into my personal life, where I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on creative things like blogging. Or even just on mindless things like listening to music. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to listen to even one song from beginning to end, without changing to another track halfway. My inadvertently poetic Chinese mother calls it “being a dragonfly”. It brings to mind carefree summer days where the brain melt is actually deliberate.