Heading out ...

Yes, Susan, Central Station (aka Sydney Terminal) is still operating as a railway station. Indeed, I think I would put it on my list of icons (just had to fix the spelling there, as my diplopia caused me to type "lust"), not just for my city of Sydney, but also for my state of New South Wales. In the affection of the hoi poloi, I suspect it would rank second after the "coat-hanger". We do, though, have a penchant for demolishing fine old buildings such as this, eg the original Stock Exchange in Bridge Street, and of showing disrespect and changing them into hotels and eateries for the well-off folk, eg the GPO (General Post Office) in Martin Place. Every two weeks, I catch a train from Central up to Gosford, about 60kms, or 90 minutes. I visit my brother in an aged-care facility. This train shown here, was the 8:15am Intercity, yesterday, Sunday. I can also take the 7:45 am City-Rail train on a Saturday, depending of how my fortnight is structured. I love to travel by train. It is soothing, and I can people-watch 'til my heart's content.

CBD Streets - Martin Place

Standing at the "top" of Martin Place close to Macquarie Street, looking into the setting sun. The topography is obvious. The building in the centre background is on George Street. It used to be a bank, but is now a Burberry.

Martin Place runs east-west between George Street and Macquarie Street, and is located about half-way between Sydney Town Hall and Circular Quay. It was created, in 1892, from a narrow lane that only ran between George and Castlereagh Streets. In 1935, Martin Place was pushed through to Macquarie Street, involving the demolition of some remarkable (but shabby-chic) terraces. Martin Place has now been a (staged) pedestrian precinct since 1971. I say staged as it is sliced (north-south) by Pitt Street, Castlereagh Street, and Elizabeth Streets. The third incarnation of the GPO (General Post Office) was opened (facing the original laneway) in 1891. There is a hefty climb from George Street up to Macquarie Street, illustrating the fact that Sydney straddles ridges (Macquarie being one of them) and gullies (George being one of those). The GPO clock tower was removed in 1942 to avoid being targeted in an air-raid. It was not replaced until 1964. The clock booms the hour.

Martin Place used to be bordered by the most imposing stand of sandstone colonial buildings one could ever hope to see. However, they are disappearing at a rate of knots. The developers say they are being remodelled. Even the GPO is not the GPO, but a hotel that none of us can afford to stay in.

Laïcité - the separation of state and church

Martin Place, looking across Pitt Street

Australia is an irreligious nation. According to the 2011 Census, 61.1% of the people call themselves Christian (Catholic 25.3%, Anglican 17.1%, Uniting Church 5.0%, Presbyterian 2.8%, Eastern Orthodox 2.6%, Baptist 1.6%, Lutheran 1.2%, Pentecostal 1.1%, and other 4.5%), 7.2% of the population is affiliated with non-Christian religions (Buddhism 2.5%, Islam 2.2%, Hinduism 1.3%, Judaism 0.5%, and other 0.8%), and 22.3% of the population is non-religious. However much Australians talk about being religious, they do not walk the walk: a 2008 global Gallup poll, found nearly 70% of Australians stated religion as having no importance. According to a 2009 Nielsen survey, 84% of respondents agreed that religion and politics should be separate. Section 116 of the Constitution of Australia precludes the Commonwealth of Australia from making laws for establishing any religion, imposing any religious observance, or prohibiting the free exercise of any religion. Australia is a secular state. The French term Laïcité, pronounced " laisity", is the absence of religious involvement in government affairs, as well as the absence of government involvement in religious affairs. It is the principle of the separation of church and state, although in France it also means the equal treatment of all religions.

City Daily Photo bloggers post photographs on a theme on the first day of each month. On February 1, they will address this intriguing question: If you had to leave forever the city from which you usually post, what would you miss most? Find out more about the February 2015 Theme at the CDP portal.

Quirky perceptions

Instruct your brain to let your eyeballs roam, and very soon this escheresque shape will rotate at will, forwards and backwards. No caffeine. No cocaine. No cannabis. It is high up on a wall, overlooking the MLC Tower food court, just off Martin Place.

This is my contribution to the Monday Mural community.

More latte-sipping lefties

Meandering in behind Martin Place, although I am early and the lanes have recently been hosed, the aroma of fine-roasted flat-white already floats toward me. Yes, please. And poached eggs on multi-grain.

Heritage lift - take your mobile

A little while back, I expressed my delight in being a luddite, and showed you the entrance to No.2 Martin Place, now occupied by Pasapaley Pearls. This building started life as the banking chamber for The Australasian Bank, which has now circuitously morphed into the ANZ Bank.

If, instead of nipping into the George Street entrance, one enters via the Martin Place entrance shown in my final photograph today, one discovers this most delightful old lift, on which a most discrete sign says: 'Heritage lift - please ensure you have a mobile'. The building was constructed during 1902 - 1904, and the lift is original.

This land, on the east side of George Street opposite the original Barracks Square, had been built upon from the early days of the colony. Originally the Bank of Australasia’s site was on two distinct titles. The two titles were converted to a single title at the beginning of 1904. The building was designed by Edward E Raht, an architect from New York (but born in Austria) who arrived in Australia in July 1891.

The street facades are constructed of "Bowral trachyte" from Mount Gibraltar microsyenite quarry in the southern highlands of NSW. The work was carried out by Loveridge and Hudson who were important masonry contractors with skilled banker masons as well as their own trachyte quarries. The two large basement levels extend 5 metres under Martin Place and are lit by deep wells on all three facades, with pavement lights.

I am indebted to the NSW Office of Environment & Heritage for many of these details.

Sydney's GPO - once a facade always a facade

Here be the George Street facade of the General Post Office (GPO) whose address is No. 1 Martin Place. However, it is no longer the GPO, although there is a post office still within the building. It has been gutted and turned into a swanky hotel. You know the drill: inside all brushed aluminium, Scandinavian Ashe, and frosted glass, whilst the outside remains sandstone and marble. Good, solid, dependable stuff that indicates 'this lady's not for turning'.

And it has ever been so. What you see here is the second GPO to have graced this central CBD site. The first GPO was given a facade to hide the squalor of what was behind. A facade of a facade.

Sydney's first PO was established on 25th April 1809 on Hospital Wharf on the west of Sydney Cove, and was run by Isaac Nichols. Upon his death in 1819, George Panton became the Postmaster - as well as being the coroner. When he died in 1829, the role was taken by James Raymond who was known as the Postmaster-General. By then they had moved into part of an old police station on the site of the current GPO. By 1845 the post office had taken over the entire building and a classical portico was attached in 1848 to up the esteem of the service in the eyes of the community. Over time, the stench from the polluted Tank Stream, and from nearby stables had the workforce and the public up in arms, and the original GPO was demolished in 1863. The new GPO was opened in 1874.

The architect was James Barnet. More on him in my Taphophile Tragics post next Tuesday. Suffice it to say that he cowed to few people. He was instrumental in the highly decorative facade. Here is a taste of the George Street frontage. As well as the very French effect I showed yesterday, here is the kangaroo and the emu in shackles leading straight to the lion atop a crown. Remember, this is in 1874, and Australia was not federated as a Commonwealth until 1901. This is eerily like the Australian Coat-of-Arms.

Sydney's GPO - an exploration

Known as 'Little Brother' this clock replaced the original Angelo Tornaghi designed clock in 1878. They both preceded the more well-known Clock Tower. 'Little Brother' protrudes over George Street, and this photograph was taken from Barrack Street. This incarnation of the GPO was designed by James Barnet.

Although Barnet was smitten, the original clock dial was difficult to see from street level, and the populace despised it. Its replacement has three dials, each six feet in diameter. This George Street clock became the chief time-piece in the central city until the construction of the Clock Tower (Big Brother) in 1891.

Self-confessed 'luddite'

"Paspaley Pearls' on the corner of Martin Place and George Street

It is not that I am against progress, I just prefer to live in the past. Brushed aluminium, Scandinavian ashe, and etched glass are all well and good, but give me granite and sandstone any old day.

According to Wiki, the Luddites were a social movement of 19th-century English textile artisans who protested against the changes produced by the Industrial Revolution, that replaced them with less skilled, low wage labour, and which they felt were leaving them without work and changing their way of life.

Frequently, mechanised looms were destroyed in a quaint process referred to as "collective bargaining by riot".

In modern usage, a 'Luddite' is one overwhelmed by the new, by the modern, by the ever-changing, who seeks refuge in the tried and true, who reveres the test of time, who dwells in that fascinating land known as the past, or even, the 'passed'.

The short facade of the QVB facing Market Street

The big wet eases

After four days of relentless, torrential rain, at last today an easing and just a sliver of blue skies. However, early this morning I navigated my way across to the northern side of the harbour to continue lessons with my preferred French tutor.


On the way back, late morning, it was still dreadful. The top image is walking up Martin Place, the middle image is debris in Mosman and, the final image waiting for a bus in Carrington Street, outside Wynyard train station.

Then & Now - Martin Place, the solemn end

Located, as it is, on a glistening harbour and founded, as it was, by convicts, Sydney is a fairly hedonistic place with a populace so laid back as to be nearly comatose. However, there is one section of this city that is solemn and takes my breath with every step.


Martin Place acquired its status in the 1880s when our civic fathers built the third version of the colony's General Post Office (GPO). Sir James Martin had been the State Premier three times and then became the Chief Justice. At that point Martin Place only had the 'solemn' end, the section from Pitt to Castlereagh being called Moore St (named after Sir Charles Moore, the Lord Mayor) and the section from Castlereagh to Macquarie still occupied by offices and tenements.

The solemn bit came with the installation of the Cenotaph on Anzac Day 1927. The road became a pedestrian plaza in 1971.

Friday Flaneur (4) - Munching music

An earnest folk-singer, in cavernous Martin Place, competes with a “burger with-the-lot”, for the attention of lunch time strollers. Better were she a plate juggling sword swallower, than guitar player.

Flaneur (n). A person who strolls the city in order to appreciate it.

Are YOU a flaneur - a la Baudelaire or Sontag?

Let there be light

Before electric lighting became common around 1900, light was provided free of charge by the sun, and at night by candle, lamp, or other flame. Anything which could extend the reach of the sun's free and safe light to interior spaces would make that space more useful and valuable. Prism glass is architectural glass used to redirect sunlight to interior spaces through refraction and reflection.

Left: Martin Place; Right: Mark Foys

Banks of prism glass came to be known as vault lights, aka sidewalk lights or pavement lights. They're those glass chunks set into old pavements to let light into vaults and basements below. Prisms were used instead of flat glass to disperse the light, diffusing it over a large area; plain flat glass would simply form a bright spot on the floor below, not providing much useful general lighting.

Left: George St portico of GPO; Right: diagram from Glassian

They're usually purple, but aqua and clear are known. Purple glass was originally clear; manganese added as a decolourizer slowly turns purple after years of UV exposure from sunlight. In the UK. pavement lights were originally set in iron frames, often marked with the name of the foundry rather than the glassmaker. Later replacements are set in concrete and steel which is the style common in the USA.


In Sydney, I have identified installations from:

B C Plummer $ Co., Sydney
Leopold Barnett & Co. Ltd
Hayward Brothers, UK
St Pancras Ironwork Co., London

Go see for yourself. They are scattered up the eastern side of George St, along the northern side of Martin Place between George & Pitt, along Mark Foys Elizabeth Street frontage, and along the northern side of Oxford Street. They are probably elsewhere, too. Their use declined as electric light became cheaper and better, and by the 1930s were on their way out. Now, they are endangered relics.


I am indebted to The Glassian site for the technical text of this post.

Friday Flaneur (1) - An introduction

Being introduced to the term "flaneur" earlier this week, I have taken it to my bosom. The derived meaning by Baudelaire is most apt to my style of blogging and each Friday I will post with this in mind. My rule will be three images only (no more, no fewer), each on the same situation. To accompany this, up to 30 words of text. Herewith, my first Friday Flaneur illustrating "a person who walks the city in order to experience it".

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Sitting together on the bench, silently communicating their affection, they watched as busy people bustled through Martin Place to the beat of a closing summer.