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I suppose our mainstream media in Australia is an easy target. However, in recent times I’ve reached the point where I can no longer stand watching it. When I talk about mainstream media, I mean radio, television, and online news outlets. This frustration has been building for several years.

I’ve long held the view that many media organisations have become lazy and no longer bother reporting factual news. Almost everything is presented with a spin—one usually designed to provoke fear, retribution, or outrage, whipping audiences into a frenzy that resembles a pack of vigilantes.

I’ll give a few examples. There was a time when radio, television, and later online reporting was handled by senior journalists with years of experience. They would attend events, conduct proper investigative journalism, speak to relevant sources, and explain what happened, why it happened, and who was involved—delivering facts rather than theatre.

Over time, however, media organisations have evolved into something else entirely. Now we often see fresh-faced recruits—newly graduated male and female journalism students—thrust in front of cameras, particularly on commercial television. They are heavily styled, dressed in designer clothing, and made up to perfection, yet some struggle to pronounce the names of organisations, people, or even locations correctly.

These young reporters are sent live to crime scenes or tragedies and expected to perform like seasoned professionals. Even the once-reliable ABC has adopted this approach. Inexperienced journalists are now asked to analyse complex political developments from our parliaments or report from tragic scenes, such as the recent Bondi shootings, while being expected to deliver an accurate and coherent account of events.

It’s embarrassing—not only for these young reporters, but also for the networks responsible. Inevitably, the segment collapses and is handed back to the studio host, who must rescue the story and attempt to add some context as it goes live to air.

If you watch different television networks covering Brisbane and South East Queensland on the same day, you’ll often see three or four variations of the same story. Each version reflects a different editorial spin, depending on what management believes will generate the most outrage or engagement. To make matters worse, these networks repeatedly replay the same footage on a continuous loop while reporting the story, creating the illusion of new information where none exists.

For me, this has been a slippery slope. I gave up on commercial television and radio years ago. Another major turning point was the way networks promoted their news desk “stars” as the story, rather than focusing on the news itself. For years, these presenters have been marketed as trustworthy community icons. For goodness’ sake, they sit behind a desk and read from a teleprompter—hardly a praiseworthy act.

Like thousands of others, I’ve now abandoned mainstream media altogether, but occasionally I’ll tune in to surprise myself & to see if the scenario has changed. Not to be, unfortunately. Sadly, the one thing the ABC still does reasonably well is live reporting during extreme weather events and bushfire disasters. In those moments, they tend to provide factual, useful information. Meanwhile, commercial television and radio networks dispatch their so-called star presenters to report from luxury hotel balconies, usually miles from the storm or fire fronts.

Perhaps I’m behind the times. When we look at the state of media in America and the UK, maybe Australia is simply catching up to the sensationalised, editorial & personality-driven model that has existed overseas for years.

As far as I’m concerned, I now prefer to cherry-pick my news from a range of online sources—although, sadly, even these still require careful fact-checking.

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How we treat our environment. According to the dictionary, the word refers to “the surroundings or conditions in which a person, animal, or plant lives, operates, and survives,” as well as “the natural world, as a whole or in a specific geographical area, especially as affected by human activity.”

It’s a complex concept with equally complex implications. A century ago, much of the world’s population likely didn’t know — or perhaps didn’t care — what “the environment” meant. People simply lived on Earth and went about their daily lives. From the moment humans first appeared, we’ve been preoccupied with countless other pursuits: fighting among ourselves over absurd issues such as religion, politics, and the desire to seize what others possess. Humans have long been a destructive force, not only toward one another but toward everything else on the planet.

Despite our ability to evolve, explore, educate ourselves, build lots of stuff, and invent tools & implements that make life easier, we still struggle to grasp some of the most basic aspects of existence—such as respecting the Earth, protecting our environment, and living peacefully with one another. Any discussion about the environment inevitably leads to a web of interconnected issues, each overlapping and influencing the next.

The central question of this blog article is this: Why are we knowingly—almost deliberately—pushing our planet toward destruction? Scientists have warned us for decades that we are heading toward disaster, yet we continue down the same path. We trust experts in engineering, education, safety, and medicine, so why aren’t we listening to the experts who understand what is happening to our planet?

They are telling us exactly what we are doing wrong, yet we continue to ignore them. We are overpopulating the planet at an unsustainable rate, destroying forests that function as the Earth’s lungs, and burning carbon-emitting fuels at levels that are rapidly degrading the atmosphere.

At times, it seems as though we couldn’t push the planet closer to collapse even if we intentionally tried. We are doing nearly everything wrong, and our leaders across the world either don’t seem to care or struggle to prove that they do. It often feels as though they have little concern for the kind of world they are leaving to their own children and grandchildren.

Most people appear to assume that the severe damage we are inflicting on the planet is a problem for future generations — not an issue we must confront now.

The main destructive influences on the Earth’s environment are climate change & habitat destruction, which are primarily driven by human activities like pollution (air, water, and land), deforestation, fossil fuel consumption, and overexploitation of resources. These factors lead to severe consequences such as biodiversity loss, soil degradation, water contamination, and more extreme weather events. 

So how does all of this come together, and how do we begin addressing the challenges of protecting our planet’s ecosystems and keeping Earth livable for us, its human inhabitants? This is where the true complexity begins.

We live on a planet divided into many individual countries, each with an autocracy or elected representatives in democracies to govern, create laws, and shape policies that influence our daily lives. While these structures may appear controlling, some form of law and order is necessary to prevent chaos — a system that ensures people don’t act recklessly without considering the collective good.

Despite this, there are individuals who claim to value democracy yet hold the contradictory belief that their personal authority should override that of a democratically elected government. These people often identify as “sovereign citizens.” If everyone adopted such a mindset, society would descend into anarchy almost instantly.

Therefore, the most stable and sensible alternative is to rely on our governments, which attempt to oversee and manage societal issues as responsibly as possible. If we disagree with their policies or decisions, we have the ability — and the right — to vote them out at the next election.

So why does any of this matter when it comes to environmental issues? At this point in our world’s evolution, politicians of most systems — democratic or autocratic — want to appear environmentally conscious. Consider the Paris Agreement: a legally binding international treaty adopted in 2015 by 196 parties to combat climate change. Its central goal is to keep global warming well below 2°C — ideally 1.5°C — above pre-industrial levels by strengthening the global response to climate change. It requires countries to set their own climate action plans, known as Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs), and to work toward peaking emissions and achieving net-zero in the second half of the century.

All I can say is: good luck. We have virtually no chance of fully meeting those commitments. Our world is slowly but steadily deteriorating under the pressure of human-created causes — causes we all understand yet seem unwilling to address meaningfully. Nations around the globe want to appear as though they are trying, but in reality many are doing the bare minimum to give the illusion of commitment. Temperatures are rising, sea levels are climbing, ice caps and glaciers are melting, and weather patterns are changing, yet collectively we continue to bury our heads in the sand while scientists are shouting warnings about the planet’s condition.

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What steps should we take as stakeholders on our planet? Well, we could sit back and wait for Armageddon—as many of us are doing now—or we could, as individuals, begin forming meaningful habits that create a real, positive impact on the planet. Many people take the position of, “Why should I do anything when our politicians can’t even be bothered?” In my view, this is a gutless, apathetic attitude adopted by those who can’t be bothered and who continue their destructive habits. What kind of example is that? It seems like a poor attempt to avoid facing a serious problem that we are leaving for future generations.

The answers lie in actually getting off our arses and getting on with the job now—not tomorrow, next week, or next year. Now. Get rid of your gas-guzzling, internal-combustion-engine cars. Install solar power and home batteries to reduce demand on coal-fired power stations. Develop good recycling habits, reduce consumption, conserve energy and water, and support sustainable practices. This includes actions such as reducing, reusing, and recycling; choosing sustainable foods; driving less; and using less energy at home.

At the other end of the ledger, governments around the world must start practising what they preach. They need to close coal-fired power stations and invest heavily in low/zero carbon-emitting alternatives. These include renewable energy sources such as solar, wind, hydropower, and geothermal—and, dare I say it, perhaps even certain forms of nuclear power, which produce zero emissions.

Additionally, civic engagement—advocating for environmental policies, volunteering for cleanups, or donating to environmental organizations—can create a broader, lasting impact.

If you think this is all too hard, stop reading now. If you fall into that category, simply continue with your current lifestyle habits, because you appear unwilling to change and incapable of caring for anyone but yourself. Sorry to be blunt, but that’s the reality of the situation we face on this planet.

There is far more we must do to pull ourselves back from this seemingly self-destructive course, and we must do it for the sake of future generations. Many people—climate-change deniers, skeptics, and those who refuse to understand what’s happening—either cannot grasp the urgency or choose not to because of ignorance or vested interests. Some will probably remain in denial even when their own hair is catching on fire. The consequences are unmistakable. But we need to get the ball rolling now, before it is too late.

As I finished compiling this article today, the Australian Federal Labor Government announced a historic agreement with the Greens to pass major reforms to national environmental laws. The question now is whether these reforms will bring meaningful change or simply result in weak legislation—laws that fail to protect ecosystems or prevent pollution due to poor enforcement, inadequate funding, and loopholes that prioritize short-term economic gains over long-term sustainability.

How effective these reforms will be remains to be seen.

Catherine Mary Corcoran, born 20 November 1876, died 5 February 1965.

It’s common to perceive grandparents as always being old because they have always held that role in relation to us. However, this perception is simply a natural result of the generational gap. They, too, were once young, full of hope, enthusiasm, dreams, and aspirations long before becoming grandparents.

This story is about my grandmother, Nana Catherine Bermingham. I’ve mentioned her in some of my other blog stories about my ancestors, and in doing so, I feel I may have been a little harsh on her.

While compiling this story, I’ve taken a few liberties. I try to stick closely to the facts when writing these articles, but in this instance, I’ve decided to connect a few of the dots myself.

As the eldest daughter and second-oldest child, Kate, as she was always known, would have taken on a fair amount of responsibility in helping to raise her younger siblings. The Corcorans lost two children in infancy, as did many early settler families.

The family were devout Irish Catholics, and all the children were brought up with strong religious values.

Kate’s father, Nicholas Corcoran, an Irish immigrant, was a farmer and grazier who also bred champion Clydesdale horses. Her mother, Johanna Bradbury, was the daughter of a ticket-of-leave convict and an Irish workhouse orphan girl.

As for Kate, I only ever knew her as a very old lady. She was seventy-eight when I was born and passed away at eighty-nine, in 1965. My memories of her are of an elderly, bedridden woman in the final years of her life. I remember visiting her in Boonah often; on one occasion, shortly before her death, she was brought out of her bedroom to join us for Christmas dinner. I was ten when she died.

As mentioned, I feel I may have judged her too harshly in some of my previous ancestry pieces. In many ways, what I hope to do here is set the record straight.

Catherine Mary Corcoran was the first daughter in a family of eleven children to Nicholas and Johanna Corcoran. They lived on their family farm in the Fassifern Valley, a few hours west of Brisbane, nestled at the base of the Great Dividing Range.

When I look at photos of Kate in her later years, I see her as I remember her — a tough, old woman who, though always kind to us, rarely seemed to have much to smile about. As a child, I often wondered why she showed such a hardened exterior. Now, having delved deeper into her life, I’ve begun to understand the mental and physical challenges that likely shaped her into the person she became.

Using the earliest original photograph I have of her (at the head of the article) is one that I’ve digitally enhanced using AI. I see a young woman with the hopeful expression typical of her time. She was an attractive girl with the same dreams and expectations most young women had back then. Raised in a loving home in the beautiful Fassifern Valley, she would have received a basic early education, enjoyed life on the family farm, and had a well-balanced childhood. In much the same way as modern-day girls contemplate their futures & who their partners may be, I’m sure she dreamed of marrying a local farmer, merchant, or tradesman, and of raising her own family in circumstances similar to her own upbringing.

As fate would have it, she attracted the attention of a handsome local lad—a successful young carpenter who had recently completed his trade apprenticeship. He was also an excellent sportsman, well-known as a talented cricketer in the district, and an early member of the local West Moreton Volunteer Regiment in Boonah. His name was Edward “Ned” Bermingham. He was considered quite the catch—a handsome, athletic Irish Catholic lad who met all of Kate’s parents’ expectations for a future husband. I’m sure Nicholas and Johanna Corcoran were delighted when their eldest daughter fell in love with this local young tradesman.

However, things took an unexpected turn when Kate became pregnant in 1903. The couple had a hastily arranged marriage later that year, but it didn’t dim their optimism. Kate and Ned still had the world at their feet and eagerly looked forward to the birth of their first child.

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On 24 June 1904, the couple’s first baby son, Edward Joseph Bermingham, was born. He was soon followed in 1906 by another son — my father, John (Jack) Francis Bermingham. Then came Kevin Patrick in 1908, Johannah Mary in 1910, Peter Nicholas in 1912, and Michael Bowen Bermingham in 1915.

In 1910, the couple had purchased the Dugandan Joinery Works from Charles Vincent, the master tradesman with whom Ned had completed his apprenticeship.

Over the next few years, Ned’s carpentry and joinery business was booming. Life was good.

However, as the family grew, a troubling reality became apparent: three of the boys — Kevin, Peter, and Michael — were affected by an intellectual disability. The boys grew up in a loving home, but it soon became clear that they would always need ongoing support. Raising one child with such challenges in a family of six kids would be hard; raising two would be difficult; raising three would be overwhelming. Fortunately, there was plenty of extended family in Boonah and the Fassifern Valley to offer help and support.

Looking at Kate, I see a vibrant young woman on her wedding day—yet only a few years later, she and Ned faced the heartbreaking challenge of raising three sons with intellectual disabilities. Such circumstances would have profoundly changed their lives. Ned was known for his cheerful and easygoing nature. He played district-level cricket, was an accomplished marksman, and later became deeply involved in local horse racing, serving as secretary and treasurer of the Boonah Turf Club for many years—all while managing a successful business.

Having three sons with special needs must have been devastating for both Kate and Ned. In the few surviving family photographs, you can see the change in Kate — from the beautiful young bride to a weary woman hardened by years of struggle and sorrow. I believe Ned threw himself into his work and sporting pursuits as an escape from the harsh realities of home life, leaving Kate to shoulder most of the responsibility for raising the boys.

If life wasn’t already tough enough, the Dugandan Flats—where they lived—were flooded many times during the severe floods that struck in the first half of the twentieth century.

In their younger years, family life may have seemed fairly normal, but as the boys grew older and stronger, life inevitably became much harder. With both parents aging, controlling them would have been increasingly difficult. Kevin, Peter, and Michael often spent extended periods on the Corcoran farm in the Fassifern Valley, where they enjoyed greater freedom and understanding.

From all family accounts, they were never a threat to anyone — simply innocent souls unable to care for themselves independently. Today, with proper assistance, their lives would have been very different. Back then, they were well cared for by their immediate and extended family, who loved them dearly and did their best to support them.

If life had not already dealt Ned and Kate a cruel hand, tragedy struck again when their firstborn son, Edward Joseph Bermingham, was killed in a farm accident at just 18 years old in 1922.

By the mid-1930s, the family dynamic had changed dramatically. The boys were now adults, their parents were in middle age, and Kate’s parents, Nicholas and Johanna Corcoran, had both passed away. My father, Jack, and his sister Molly were pursuing their own careers. Jack had married and had a son, John, but the marriage ended, leaving him with custody of the child. While Jack worked across Queensland as a telephone linesman, his young son was cared for by Kate and Ned, with help from the many Corcoran aunts and uncles.

In 1944, Ned passed away at the age of sixty-six, leaving Kate alone to care for their three sons, who by then were grown men aged thirty-six, thirty-two, and twenty-nine, respectively. They often grew frustrated with their own limitations, while Kate—now nearing seventy—found it increasingly difficult to look after them. My brother John often remarked, “Those boys were hard work.”

In truth, she carried an enormous burden — raising three dependent sons largely on her own. Her motherly instincts ensured that she never stopped loving them, but the toll on her physical and emotional health was immense.

At times, Kate must have wondered what she had done in her God’s eyes to deserve the life she was given. She was a devout Catholic, whereas with Ned, lets just say that he seemed to hold a weaker belief structure. His religious practice appeared more a matter of duty—attending church simply because it was expected of him. Her suffering and frustrations often overflowed into her treatment of her husband, her other two children — Jack and Molly — and her grandson John.

In John’s words, “As a religious bigot, she ruined the lives of Dad, Molly, and nearly me with her religious fanaticism.”

I truly believe she felt that God and her faith had somehow abandoned her. Though she never lost her rigid religious convictions, it’s hard to blame her for having those thoughts. For that once beautiful, optimistic young woman to endure such relentless hardship and tragedy, she coped in the only way she knew — by clinging to her faith, because no one else was there to help her. She lived in an unending cycle of care — twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred sixty-five days a year — forced to keep going for the sake of her sons. It’s no wonder she looked utterly exhausted as she grew older.

With her husband dead and her own strength fading, she eventually had to make the heartbreaking decision to place the boys in an asylum, hoping they would receive proper care.

After Ned’s death, Kate suffered from severe depression, grieving the loss of her husband while struggling with the guilt of institutionalizing her sons. Evidence also suggests that she became involved with the QCWA (Queensland Country Women’s Association) during this time, likely as an effort to get out and break the cycle of depression she was trapped in. Though I am not a religious person, I can understand why she turned so deeply to her faith throughout her life. None of us can truly comprehend the suffering she endured while raising her three intellectually disabled sons—and losing another—during such a difficult era.

It’s important to remember that, at that point in history, assisted mental health care was virtually nonexistent for individuals — especially for families with children living with disabilities. People had to make do with what they had; in other words, they simply had to keep going. Failure wasn’t an option. For those who couldn’t cope, the only alternative was often the bleak, overcrowded asylums that operated at the time.

It is somewhat ironic that the once young woman who had started her family all those years ago had grown frail and mentally deteriorated, now requiring the very help she had so selflessly given to others throughout her life. Fortunately, her daughter, my aunt Molly, stepped up to fill the void and care for her mother during her final years.

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As I’ve uncovered more about our family ancestry, I’ve come to understand the life-changing events that shaped Kate and Ned’s lives as they began their family. As children, we often saw our elderly relatives—whom we perceived as grumpy, dowdy, and unsmiling—and formed opinions about them without knowing the full story behind the hardships they faced throughout their lives.

The reality of Kate & Ned’s lives mirrored that of many other Australian families in the early to mid twentieth century who had children with mental or physical disabilities. The vast majority faced their adversities with courage, as they simply had no other choice. They suffered in silence.

Today, medical science has advanced to the point where couples can undergo various pre-natal tests to detect serious health issues in an unborn baby — and they are given choices that simply didn’t exist in Kate and Ned’s time. Back then, they faced whatever came their way with no warning, no modern support systems, and no medical guidance.

You’ve got to hand it to the old girl—and I say this with respect—she held firmly to her faith until the very end of her life. The local Catholic priest visited her every week to give her Mass at her bedside. Many others would have abandoned such steadfast beliefs long before then, especially after enduring all the hardships she faced throughout her life.

I’m certain that her son, Jack—my father—and her daughter, Molly, had become somewhat lapsed in their faith. If not entirely, then at least in the depth of their convictions later in life, partly because of their mother’s uncompromising hardcore devotion to her Catholic beliefs.

It’s worth noting—and this observation may be entirely coincidental—that Kate’s mother, Johanna Corcoran (née Bradbury), was as much of a devoted “God-botherer” as Kate herself, if not more so. Johanna was a deeply committed Catholic, and her mother, Catherine Bradbury (nee Ryan), was equally devout, attending her local church in Toowoomba every day.

In contrast, my research into the male side of the family suggests that the men were far less zealous in their Catholicism. My father, Kate’s son Jack, along with his father Ned and Ned’s father Peter Bermingham, all appeared to practice their faith with much less intensity. As I mentioned, this may simply be a coincidence—that the men in the family line tended to be less devout than their wives.

One thing I know for certain is that I now hold immense respect for my grandmother, Kate Bermingham. As my brother John said on more than one occasion – “She was a woman who had a lot to put up with.”

Full disclosure……I have taken the liberty of using AI to enhance the very few photographs in existence of Kate & Ned. When AI is used, it can sometimes over-enhance photos & images. Make of them what you will.

View the following article on Kate’s husband Ned, & my father, Jack here https://porsche91722.com/2023/02/22/peter-bermingham/

The chapter on the lives of the three boys – Kevin, Peter & Michael is here https://porsche91722.com/2025/01/13/the-story-of-kevin-peter-michael-our-family-missing-persons/

There are also many other stories on my family ancestry & other topics here https://porsche91722.com/category/uncategorized/

Maybe the real question is not what’s happening to our country, but what’s happening to our people. The country itself hasn’t changed. We still have a sunburnt land — a country of sweeping plains, rugged mountain ranges, and droughts and flooding rains. I’ve been compelled to write this article because of the scenes we’re witnessing across Australia lately. What follows is something I never imagined I would find myself contemplating.

I have proudly flown the Australian flag on a flagpole in my front yard for nearly forty years. To me, our flag is a symbol of the Australian way of life. Although I don’t necessarily agree with the Union Jack remaining on it, it is still part of our flag — and as such, I have always flown it with pride. People interpret different meanings when someone displays the flag. For me, it has always been a personal symbol — a quiet expression of love for my country, not an act of showy patriotism. Unlike the often over-the-top displays seen from Americans, I never wanted to flaunt it. In fact, my flagpole stands where it can’t easily be seen from the street. It isn’t about showing off — it’s about what the flag means to me personally.

Yet now, I find myself seriously considering taking it down.

What has driven me to this point are the appalling antics of a group claiming to be “Australian patriots.” These people march through our cities draped in our flag, pretending to defend it, while dragging it through the streets. They claim to love Australia, but their actions show only ignorance and disrespect. Their demonstrations — supposedly in opposition to immigration — are nothing more than excuses for aggression and hate.

While I firmly believe in freedom of speech and the right to express opinions, it sickens me to see our flag mistreated by people who are associated with fascism and racism. True Australians don’t need to parade their patriotism by trampling on the very symbol that represents us all.

I don’t care who you are or what cause you claim to support — when you start throwing missiles at our democratically elected leaders, police and fellow citizens, you’ve crossed the line. Ironically, these same people claim to be “fighting for our freedoms.”

Australia is a relatively young nation — not yet 250 years since colonial settlement began. Every one of us, apart from our Indigenous peoples, is either an immigrant or descended from immigrants. We are one of the world’s proudest multicultural societies, representing almost every nation on Earth.

Whatever point these protesters are trying to make is entirely lost on me. There may be a sliver of legitimacy in discussing immigration rates in light of the current housing crisis, but the reality is that 99% of recent immigrants are employed, hardworking, and valuable members of our communities. Many of those marching against immigration are likely living off the same public funds they accuse others of abusing. Their rhetoric against the Indian community — and others — is dishonest and disgraceful. In truth, most immigrants are deeply proud to call Australia home. They study, work hard, pay taxes, and contribute far more than they take — even if their cricket loyalties differ when Australia plays India. 😀

My love for this country has never faded. What truly angers me is seeing our flag’s image tarnished by these people. Every nation faces challenges — economic, social, or political — but these protesters seem oblivious to that fact. Migration has always been part of our national story. My own ancestors fled Germany and Ireland close to two centuries ago to escape persecution and conflict. I’d wager many of these so-called patriots have similar family histories — they just choose to ignore that fact.

So, what’s the answer to this — hopefully temporary — issue? Let’s pause and restore some accountability. For starters, anyone who wears a face covering to a protest should be removed from the discussion immediately. Those who throw rocks, metal, or any kind of missile should face real consequences. Next, name them publicly. If they are so proud to wrap themselves in the flag, let’s see who they really are. If their beliefs are genuine, let them debate openly — calmly and respectfully — instead of hiding behind violence.

I love our country and what the vast majority of Australians believe it stands for. We’ve fought wars under our flag — some later shown to be conflicts we perhaps should never have entered — but regardless, we marched under our flag to defend our convictions and our democracy. I still believe everyone has the right to free speech, even when we disagree with their rhetoric. In fact, I believe those who disrespect our flag and all it represents should still have the right to express their views publicly — but under one condition: I’m happy to attach my name to any statement I make publicly, so why shouldn’t they do the same? Those who loudly proclaim their patriotism while hiding behind anonymity and face masks, venting their racist hatred and disrespectfully draping themselves with our flag, should have the courage to stand behind their words, openly and peacefully. But let’s know, and see who you are.

We live in a democracy. Australia is one of the few nations with compulsory voting — a system some dislike, but one I see as a privilege. Many around the world would give anything for the right to vote. Look at how Americans elect their president: through a non-compulsory, convoluted process that often discourages participation. By contrast, we have a straightforward and fair system that delivers clear results quickly.

I’ve always believed that if you choose not to vote, you lose the right to complain about the outcome. If you can’t be bothered to have your say, then don’t whinge afterward — you had your chance.

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And finally, back to the flag. The favourite slogan of these protesters is: “If you don’t like our country, leave.” The irony is rich — because if anyone doesn’t truly like what Australia stands for, it’s them. Perhaps they should be the ones to go find those “greener pastures” they seem to imagine exist elsewhere.

This isn’t a topic I particularly wanted to post about, but it’s an issue that has become an out-of-control epidemic—not only here in Queensland but across our entire country. It is not only a violent crime but also a national shame. The situation has reached a point where, if every perpetrator of aggravated domestic assault were found guilty and sentenced accordingly, we would likely need several new prisons to house them.

These offenders must be kept off the streets and away from their families, who too often endure the ongoing cycle of violence these individuals repeatedly inflict. The sad reality is that when many of these psychopaths (because that is what they are), who harm their partners and children, are eventually convicted of their serial crimes and are finally sent to prison, they are often placed alongside other repeat offenders, where they end up comparing notes and finding sympathetic shoulders to cry on.

All too often, they continue on in their lives or leave prison if they have been caught & convicted, with an even bigger chip on their shoulder, blaming their partners for their predicament and seeking retribution against the very people they have harmed—those whom, in their own deluded minds, they hold responsible for their imprisonment.

I regularly read media reports and social media posts from people complaining that police aren’t responding quickly enough to other crimes—such as property break-ins, minor car accidents, vehicle theft, or road offences like speeding and drink- or drug-driving.

However, there are legitimate reasons why police sometimes can’t attend these incidents as promptly as people expect.

Since domestic violence records began being kept, we as a society have reached a disturbing reality: in Queensland alone, police receive a domestic violence report every three minutes. Yes, you read that correctly—every three minutes.

Take a moment to consider the 000 operators who handle these distressing calls, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. They must pass each call to police (& sadly, paramedics), who have to prioritize these life-threatening situations over less urgent matters. Of course, if your home has been broken into and your possessions stolen, you naturally want the police to respond immediately. But officers must often choose between investigating a burglary or rushing to protect someone who is being attacked by a violent partner—a decision that can mean the difference between life and death.

This isn’t to say that police dismiss other crimes or delay attending them indefinitely. Rather, saving a woman or child from serious harm must—and does—take precedence.

So, the next time you wonder why the police aren’t patrolling a dangerous stretch of road for reckless drivers who could cause a vehicle incident, or issuing fines for minor offenses, take a moment to consider this: those same officers are probably responding to a domestic violence incident, working desperately to prevent another tragedy.

It’s a sad reality that most of us probably know a family member, workmate, neighbor, friend, or acquaintance who has been, or currently is, a perpetrator or a victim. Yet, many people choose to turn away and look in the other direction.

Domestic Violence has many different forms – Physical, Emotional, Financial, Sexual, Social, Verbal, Spiritual, Elder or Child abuse.

Ask yourself this question: would you be prepared to intervene and perhaps save someone’s life or prevent serious injury, or would you simply look the other way?

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Our family, on both sides, comes from the Boonah–Fassifern district. We often visited our grandparents on both Dad’s and Mum’s sides, along with uncles, aunties, cousins, and many other extended family members. All our ancestors, going back to our great-great-grandparents, had strong ties to the Fassifern Valley. Most of the originals settled in the district as farmers after immigrating from Ireland and Germany in the 1800s.

As a young child, I often felt as though we were related to half the population of the district. Since both Dad and Mum grew up in the Fassifern Valley, they also had many friends and acquaintances of their own. We were constantly being introduced to people I had never met before — “This is Uncle so-and-so,” or “your cousin so-and-so,” or “Great Auntie so-and-so.”

As a kid, it was nearly impossible to remember everyone on that ever-growing list of relatives, who they all were, and where they fit into the family tree.

However, this blog article focuses on another part of the history of the Fassifern Valley – the railway and how it contributed to, and became a significant part of, the development of the Boonah/Fassifern district.

This stretch of railway holds many memories for me, as I often travelled along it with my father when we visited Boonah. I was only about five years old the first time I rode the old railmotors to Boonah.

The line was first opened in 1882 to Harrisville, and later extended to Boonah and Dugandan, with the extension completed on 12 September 1887.

My grandfather, Edward Bermingham, was one of the earliest travelers on the branch line.

In late 1887, at the age of nine, young Ned traveled by train from his parents’ farm on the South Pine River, on Brisbane’s northern outskirts, to Boonah. He went to live with his older half-brother, Senior Constable John Bowen Dunn & his wife Martha. John Dunn had just been appointed as the town’s first police officer. Notably, the establishment of Boonah’s police station and the arrival of its first resident officer coincided with the opening of the railway.

Our family members certainly had a fascinating connection to rail travel. My parents actually first met on a train trip back to Boonah in about 1947. They were both traveling home on a railmotor to see their respective families, who, as it turned out, lived about 300 mtrs apart, in Macquarie St, Boonah. When they were married a year & a half later, the couple immediately boarded a train to North Queensland for their honeymoon.

Many of my ancestors—some of the original settlers in the district—with family names such as Corcoran, Muller, Kruger, Kubler, Lobegeiger and Bermingham, often travelled to & from the district by the trains. They were primarily farming families, and as such, relied heavily on the freight services of the railway to transport their produce and livestock to market.

The Fassifern railway, therefore, holds both deep connections and a sense of nostalgia—not only for me but for our entire extended family. Through our ancestral ties, we share a lasting bond with the Fassifern district and the town of Boonah.

Let’s travel the line station by station, imagining how it might have felt from 1887 through the district’s development years and right up until 1964, when the line was closed. During this period, passenger railmotors operated daily, while mixed goods trains continued to serve the farming communities along the route.

IPSWICH (0 km)

The line begins at Ipswich, the bustling railway hub west of Brisbane. Passengers board amid the clatter of steam engines, shunting wagons, and the smell of coal smoke. The Fassifern branch departs in a southwesterly direction.

LITTLE IPSWICH (1 km) – An industrial hub and suburban stop, the station served the district’s growing population. Workers and schoolchildren relied on it daily. The area first developed as a crucial transport hub and supply point for the Darling Downs and beyond.

CHURCHILL (3 km) – The area developed around the 1873 Ipswich Showgrounds, and a soap and candle factory was established in 1866. With the opening of the Fassifern railway in 1882, the establishment of a post office in 1892, housing development followed, and the founding of Churchill State School in 1923. The suburb expanded rapidly during the post-WW1 years and continued to grow throughout the early 20th century.

At its heart was a small railway platform in a working-class suburb of Ipswich, primarily used by locals commuting to town, local industry or traveling to nearby farms.

LOAMSIDE (6 km) – Named for the fertile loamy soils of the district. Trains often picked up produce here — vegetables, hay, and dairy cream cans & cotton in the early days.

HAMPSTEAD (9 km) – A minor siding, mainly for agricultural traffic. Local farms relied on the train for transporting small goods. Coal was also transported into Ipswich from a nearby colliery in the 1920’s.

PURGA (15 km) – One of the earliest farming districts outside Ipswich, with strong connections to a nearby Aboriginal mission. Dairy and crops were the main traffic here.

GOOLMAN (18 km) – A rural stop at the foot of the Goolman Range. Timber and firewood were loaded here, while travellers enjoyed their first glimpse of the Scenic Rim hills.

HILLSIDE (19 km) Locality station, occasional stops if passengers are on board. In the early years of the railway, cotton & maize were grown & freighted on the trains, with grazing later being more prevalent.

ROCKTON Locality near Peak Crossing

PEAK CROSSING (22 km) – was a lively farming centre with cattle and cream traffic, and also had a large sawmill serviced by the railways in the early days. The town clustered around the station, complete with hotels and shops.

HARRISVILLE (28 km) – One of the key towns on the line, with a large station yard, goods shed, and stockyards. Cotton was an early crop here, later replaced by dairying and vegetables. Harrisville was the first terminus when the line opened in 1882.

WILSONS PLAINS (33 km) – A small rural siding serving local farms, mostly for cream, hay, and small goods. Named after the first owners of the Mt Flinders station property.

RADFORD (36 km) – A modest station for the surrounding settlement, handling mainly timber and cream traffic.

MUNBILLA (38 km) – Munbilla was a junction station from 1887, when the Mount Edwards branch line diverged here. Munbilla became an important hub for livestock and goods traffic. An extension branch line was opened to Kalbar on 17 April 1917 & then extended further to Mt Edwards & opened on 7 October 1922.

MUNBILLA JUNCTION – MT EDWARDS BRANCH LINE – Kalbar – Morwincha – Aratula – Mt Edwards

WARAPERTA (43 km) – about 7 km up from the junction with the Dugandan line. Small settlement serving the local farms

KALBAR (47 km) – Formerly Englesburg. The rail extension to Kalbar was originally constructed to serve the Fassifern Valley, but was also intended to form part of the Via Recta (Latin for “straight route”) rail project, which was planned to cross the Main Range to Maryvale and ultimately reach Wallangarra on the Queensland border, linking with the interstate standard-gauge New South Wales line.

Queensland Railways intended the Munbilla junction to Mt Edwards section of the line to be built with heavier infrastructure—stronger track and higher-capacity bridges—to handle more frequent and heavier freight traffic. This was in anticipation of the Via Recta project, which aimed to maximize Queensland’s capacity for hauling goods in competition with New South Wales.

Side note – However, the somewhat short-sighted approach of governments and authorities at the time (and, arguably, still today) meant that the earlier, lighter-duty track rails and bridges—along with the acute turning radii from Ipswich through Munbilla Junction to Boonah, marked by steep gradients, tight curves, and lightweight creek-crossing bridges—would have required extensive upgrades to meet the standards of the Via Recta project. Many of the culverts, bridges and sections of the rail corridor leading into Munbilla from Ipswich would even have needed complete re-engineering & possible relocation.

When the construction started on the line, commencing from Ipswich, the earthworks had been carried out on only a minimal scale, with most bridges little more than culverts or simple flood openings. Tight-radius deviations were the norm, while significant earthworks were virtually absent after the first three miles of construction. Instead, the roadbed largely followed the natural rolling contours of the countryside to reduce costs. Small embankments and flood openings carried the rails across gullies, keeping expenses to a minimum but compromising long-term durability. I can certainly vouch for that description of the construction. When I travelled the line from about 1959, through to its closure, the old red railmotors were certainly doing a lot of rocking & rolling along the train line to & from Boonah.

In the end, the Via Recta project was never completed and ultimately abandoned.

Kalbar itself was in the heart of a significant agricultural district, known for its produce, beef, and dairy farming.

FASSIFERN VALLEY (53 km) – a small locality station further up into the valley. My ancestors—the Mullers, Krugers, and Kublers—owned farms surrounding this rail station. The Fassifern Valley boasted some of the richest soil in South East Queensland, where the district cultivated a diverse range of vegetable crops in its fertile land.

WARUMKARIE (50 km) – a small locality station further up into the valley.

The farmers and residents of Boonah and the Fassifern Valley were in urgent need of a reliable transport network to deliver their produce to the markets of Ipswich and Brisbane. By contrast, the Lockyer Valley and the towns west of Toowoomba had already gained a significant advantage, with the main western rail line connecting them to the capital, two decades earlier.

The construction of the Fassifern line helped local farmers regain competitiveness by enabling them to supply dairy, livestock, vegetables, and grain from the valley’s fertile soil to Ipswich and Brisbane more quickly and reliably, while ensuring their products remained fresh.

MORWINCHA (55 km) – Rural locality serving the farming community in the area.

ARATULA (58 km) – At the base of the main range, serving mainly the grazing properties in the community. The construction of the railway line was a major factor in the development of Aratula, fostering agriculture and settlement in the Scenic Rim region

MT EDWARDS (64 km) – Terminus. The station was envisioned as part of a route to Warwick but the project was halted by the Great Depression, changes in government, and opposition from Toowoomba.

It was an intriguing period in Australia’s transport history—a time marked by overlapping events that would shape the nation’s future & the decision to go ahead with Via Recta. Entering the 1920s, Australia was still in recovery mode, following the end of WW1, suffering labor shortages & was on the brink of a severe worldwide economic depression. There was intense lobbying from Toowoomba, with local interests determined to secure the major freight connection through their region.

Fast forward to 2025, and the Inland Rail project is well underway. Designed to connect Melbourne, Sydney, and Brisbane through an extensive regional freight network, the project aims to streamline the transfer of goods between the three eastern capital ports. The final Queensland section, extending from the Darling Downs over the range into Brisbane, is now in the final stages of planning.

A century ago, the proposed Via Recta route included the stations of Mt Edwards and Maryvale—just 30 kilometers apart as the crow flies. Yet, as so often happens, government inefficiency, political disputes (particularly with Toowoomba, situated further north), and the onset of the Great Depression ultimately doomed the project.

Now, a hundred years later, the multi-billion-dollar Inland Rail corridor is roughly two-thirds of the way to Queensland. Could the Via Recta section of that original interstate rail proposal have become part of Inland Rail if it had been completed a century ago? Perhaps! Particularly, if there was already an existing corridor of rail track in place to build upon and expand. Over the past hundred years, advances in rail technology—more powerful locomotives, higher speeds, two-kilometer-long double-stack container trains, heavier track capacities, improved rolling stock, straighter rail corridors, advanced tunnel-boring machinery, reduced manpower requirements, and sophisticated signaling systems—have revolutionized the industry.

The way governments at all levels—local, state, and federal—operate could mean that, if not for the issues of the time, the Via Recta project might have developed into something much larger, rather than being consigned to the pages of history.

Instead, the Inland Rail will traverse the range through a new tunnel from Toowoomba, then continue cross-country from Calvert to Kagaru. It will cross the Boonah–Ipswich Road near Peak Crossing before following the existing upgraded standard-gauge line through to Acacia Ridge and onward to the Port of Brisbane.

Still, one can’t help but wonder how different things might have been had the project come to fruition all those years ago.

Apologies for veering into Inland Rail territory, but the Via Recta project was a fascinating and controversial tale, one that, if realized, might have dramatically transformed and reshaped Australia’s rail transport network & made a significant difference to life as we know it in the Fassifern Valley.

In some ways, we truly dodged a bullet. Thankfully, those massive freight trains won’t be thundering through our beautiful Fassifern Valley anytime soon.

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We’ll reconnect to our journey to Boonah/Dugandan from Munbilla Station.

BOONAH/DUGANDAN LINE – FROM MUNBILLA JUNCTION

ANTHONY (41 km) – A small farming siding where the train might stop briefly to collect milk cans or set down passengers. In the early days of the railway line, after leaving Anthony, the train would pass a mile beyond this point, across gum and ironbark ridges, before entering the Dugandan Scrub—a vast expanse of dense brigalow brush stretching over low hills and valleys for miles in every direction. It was a splendid tract of rich agricultural land, every acre selected, much of it cleared and cultivated.

BLANTYRE (43 km) – Another rural stop, surrounded by rolling countryside with maize fields and dairy herds visible from the carriage windows.

ROADVALE (46 km) – A busier village station with a platform and shelter. Roadvale supported a township with shops and churches, and the station handled daily produce.

KULGAN (48 km) – A tiny halt serving surrounding farms, mainly for cream and produce.

TEVIOTVILLE (50 km) – Close to Teviot Brook, this siding served local farmers. Not a township, but important for produce shipments.

HOYA (51 km) – A very small stop for the farming district north of Boonah, primarily for milk and cream traffic.

BOONAH (52 km) – The main town of the district. By the early 1900s, Boonah had surpassed Harrisville in importance. Its larger station yard handled timber, livestock, grain, vegetables, and cream. Passengers alighted here to shop, attend markets, or travel further into the mountains.

DUGANDAN (54 km) — Terminus – The line ended at Dugandan, near the Dugandan Hotel. It had goods sheds, sawmills, and stockyards, keeping the station busy. From here, bullock drays and coaches carried goods further south toward Mt Alford and Maroon.

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🌄 The Journey in Summary

From the bustle of Ipswich, through fertile farmland and quiet rural sidings, past dairies and cream cans waiting on platforms, to the thriving towns of Harrisville, Boonah, and finally Dugandan — this line was a lifeline for farmers and communities in the Fassifern Valley until its closure in 1964.

The trains were usually mixed, carrying both passengers and freight, and speeds were slow — often under 30 km/h. Along the way, travellers would see:

• Rolling farmland with cotton, maize, and dairying paddocks.
• Small German farming settlements.
• Teviot Brook and the surrounding Scenic Rim mountains.

By the time you reached Dugandan, the Dugandan Hotel was only a short walk away, welcoming thirsty travellers with a well-earned drink. 🍺

From my perspective as a child travelling to Boonah with my parents, we often went by train — especially Dad and I. Visiting relatives meant travelling from our home in suburban southside Brisbane to Boonah, and it certainly wasn’t a trip you made if you were in a hurry. Current trip distance – 90km. Usually done in just over an hour.

I can still remember Dad and I leaving home around 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning, catching a cab to Corinda Station, then boarding the suburban train to Ipswich, stopping at every station along the way. The old Boonah railmotor would depart Ipswich at about 10 a.m. The journey to Boonah usually took around three hours, with frequent stops to drop off and pick up passengers.

It was a more relaxed era in Queensland’s history, when people seemed far more laid back about life in general — and even more so the further you travelled out of Brisbane and into the country. Although a timetable existed, there was no strict enforcement to ensure the railmotor ran on time.

Being a Boonah local, Dad knew many of the other passengers. At Harrisville, the railmotor often stopped long enough for Dad and the driver to duck over to the pub for a beer and a pie. Nobody on the train seemed concerned about the extended stop — in fact, a few passengers often joined them. Life really was easier going back then.

To give you an idea of how casual things were, I recall one Sunday afternoon when Dad and I were travelling home from Boonah. Somewhere between Peak Crossing and Ipswich, where the line runs close to the Ipswich–Boonah road, Dad spotted one of the Boonah locals — the town electrician — driving towards Ipswich in his Holden panel van. Because Dad knew him well (he had also worked as an electrician and telephone linesman in his younger days around Boonah and southeast Queensland), he leaned out of the carriage window, waved, and called out.

To my amazement, the driver of the railmotor asked if Dad wanted him to stop so we could continue the journey with his friend. And so he did. The train stopped in the middle of nowhere, we got off, and caught a lift to Brisbane in the back of Dad’s mate’s van. I couldn’t imagine Queensland Rail staff doing anything like that today.

On another couple of occasions, we missed the Sunday afternoon Boonah–Ipswich railmotor and had to catch the later mixed goods train that departed around 4 p.m. That trip dragged on until nearly 11 p.m., stopping constantly to shunt and load goods along the way. Dad and I rode in the guard’s van at the back of the train — long, slow trips I’ll never forget, although the rail journeys were always interesting & exciting for a kid.

The rail line and its train services were finally closed in 1964, a casualty of progress. In its early years, it offered a far more reliable option than the rough roads of the time, which were often impassable for days due to bad weather, with horses and carts easily getting bogged.

Many of the earlier inhabitants of Boonah travelled there originally on the trains, my ancestors being some of them.

The local farmers relied on the trains to get their produce and livestock to markets. The many local businesses & sawmills utilized the railway to shift goods to & from Boonah to the Brisbane ports for export & to destinations further afield across the state.

Post WW2 & through to the 1960s, however, roads had greatly improved, and road transport proved much faster. Refrigerated road transport could deliver produce direct to markets in Brisbane and Ipswich more quickly, ensuring freshness for consumers. Dairy products such as milk, cream, butter, and cheese, which have short shelf lives, could also be transported directly to processing plants with greater efficiency. Levels of freight started to decrease by the 1950s.

Many older residents of the Fassifern Valley still reminisce about the rail line, and I have done exactly the same in this article. I often read accounts from people mourning the loss of trains across Queensland’s & Australia’s rail networks from decades past. The romance and adventure of historic train travel linger long after the journey ends, unlike modern trains, which lack the same charm and sense of adventure.

The reality is that while these historic services played a vital role in developing and expanding the regions they served, they eventually became obsolete.

Rail lines throughout Queensland—such as the original Southport/Tweed Heads line, the Beaudesert line, the Brisbane Valley line, Hervey Bay, Killarney, and many others—could not compete with faster, more modern forms of transport. Rail required considerable manpower and multiple stages of trans-shipping to move produce from farm to consumer. Goods typically went from the farm gate—by horse and buggy in the early years, later by truck—to the nearest rail station. From there, they were loaded onto wagons, taken by train to a major hub such as Ipswich or Roma Street in Brisbane, and transferred again to other trains bound for the final destinations, across Queensland’s decentralized rail network.

In contrast, modern refrigerated transport collected produce directly from the farm and delivered it straight to the market or retailer. Passenger services also suffered. The old red railmotors & wooden passenger carriages were outdated, barely changing in four decades of use, and the track alignments themselves had seen little improvement. As mentioned earlier, a trip from Brisbane’s southside to Boonah took nearly five hours by rail, compared to just one hour by road today.

There is no doubt that Queensland Rail has improved significantly since the mid-twentieth-century branch closures, particularly with the introduction of freight containerisation and refrigeration. Modern rail alignments, track geometry & route optimisation have also drastically changed for the better. However, these changes came too late to reverse the decline. Privatisation has also influenced the operation of the state rail network—sometimes for the better, and sometimes not.

When it comes to passenger travel, modern city, urban, and regional rail remains a vital component of urban development. Its efficiency, high capacity, and environmental benefits—particularly when electrified and integrated into a wider transport network—make it indispensable. However, its success depends on strong infrastructure, high utilization rates, and meeting commuter expectations for reliability and frequency. Unfortunately, most of the lines that were closed in the past will not be reconsidered, as they no longer meet these current criteria for viability.

By 1964, when the Boonah/Fassifern line and many others were closed, successive governments had failed to address the growing needs of local populations. Personally, I loved the old train line and still treasure childhood memories of riding the railmotors and steam trains. Yet, these belong to a bygone era, inevitably overtaken by progress.

It is important to consider the historical context. Queensland, declared a state in 1859, was financially constrained from the start. The narrow gauge rail network was built on a shoestring budget, earning it the nickname “the pony railway.” By the mid-twentieth century, with little investment in upgrades, many branch lines had reached the end of the line—both figuratively and literally.

The days of the Fassifern branch railway had come to an end.

In compiling this story on the Fassifern rail line, I have been able to access many photographs & records from several different sources, which I would like to acknowledge below.

RAILWAY ARCHAEOLOGY IPSWICH

Lee-ann Keefer, for access to her father – Eric Marggraf’s collection

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had the privilege of witnessing—and being part of—a major production in the making. The big release day is just around the corner.

The event? Our granddaughter’s fourth birthday party.

Now, one could be forgiven for thinking that while this occasion is a big deal to the guest of honour, her mother, and her grandmother—who are handling all the preparations—I, as the grandfather, am simply sitting back, watching the elaborate setup unfold as though it were a full-scale Hollywood production.

And truly, that’s not far from the truth.

I’m continually amazed as I watch these two seasoned event planners set everything in motion. Both are professionals who do not do this sort of thing for a living, but they approach the task with a level of precision that would put many large-scale productions to shame. It’s remarkable to witness how smoothly it all comes together.

So, what makes this children’s party feel like such a grand production? I’ve been to countless events over the years—for our own children and for other families—but I’ve never seen this level of detailed planning and execution for a party of this kind.

Let me give you a sense of what’s involved.

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🎯 The Venue

Originally, the local council quoted a fee of around $600 to reserve a specific area of a local park. Our two “producers” weren’t having any of that. Veterans of cost-effective planning, they devised a different approach. The plan? Show up early at a nearby park, stake out a spot close to the barbecue area, playground equipment, and toilet block, and claim a covered picnic table before anyone else does.

It’s a bold strategy, not without risk—other party planners might have the same idea—but of course, there’s a backup. They’ve got a small marquee tent ready to deploy if the picnic table plan falls through. It’s all covered.

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📝 The Guest List and Invitations

The guest list includes her kindergarten friends, their parents, and several relatives and family friends. Invitations have been sent, and RSVPs are rolling in. Every guest has been carefully considered.

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🎉 The Details: Games, Bags, and Bites

Naturally, a party for four-year-olds needs the right mix of entertainment and treats. There are games to organize, party bags to pack, and enough fun to keep the kids engaged.

The timing is set: post-lunch, from 1:30 PM to 4:00 PM. Of course, you still have to feed them. The menu includes finger food, drinks for kids and adults, a selection of snacks for the parents, dietary considerations, and—of course—the all-important birthday cake.

Tables and chairs are being arranged, with guests encouraged to bring their own seating. All supplies, especially party bag items, are being purchased and packed in advance. Our good friends at Temu have played their part in this. Food preparation is also happening ahead of time to reduce the risk of any last-minute chaos.

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🌧️ The Unpredictable Variable: Weather

And then there’s the wild card—Mother Nature. All the preparation in the world can’t guarantee perfect weather. Should the skies turn sour, even the best-laid plans could unravel. But we’re staying optimistic and keeping our fingers crossed.

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Over the past few years, I’ve witnessed these incredible productions a few times now, and each has been a resounding success—etched into our family history as joyous and unforgettable occasions.

These two women—my wife (the proud grandma) and our granddaughter’s mum—plan these events like seasoned event planners. Nothing is overlooked, and everything comes together with flawless precision.

We’re all looking forward to what promises to be another fantastic celebration.

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Post event – The big day went ahead flawlessly. Lot’s of food, probably too much! The children all had a ball. The games were a major success, especially the bag races. We even got the parents involved in one, which they all enjoyed. Our beautiful girl had a whale of a time. And the true mark of success after filling all the kids up with junkfood ( there was plenty of healthy options although like most kids they all go for the sweet treats first) there were a few exhausted kids tantrams, they all went home totally exhausted & full of tasty treats with a gift bag each.

What constitutes good service these days? It should be a fundamental part of any organisation that intends to stay in business or expand. Yet it’s painfully clear that some business owners and managers have little understanding of what good service or fair trading truly entails.

I’ve always believed in treating clients with the same respect and quality of service that I would want for myself. At the end of the day, we’re all consumers.

Most companies likely intend to provide good service, but execution often fails for various reasons. Poor wages and substandard working conditions discourage employees from going the extra mile—especially when they’re treated poorly by management. There’s a growing attitude among some managers that staff are easily replaceable. That theory holds only until experienced employees have had enough of poor treatment and start looking elsewhere.

Many staff members are willing to accept difficult conditions, especially in competitive industries. However, when a company chooses to cut corners internally—slashing work conditions instead of seeking growth opportunities—it often signals the beginning of its decline.

Retaining good staff should be a priority for forward-thinking organisations. Consumers prefer familiar faces; they trust and build rapport with the people they interact with regularly. Often, we never meet the business owners or supervisors—we interact with the frontline staff, whether in person or over the phone. Mistakes happen: incorrect pricing, supply chain failures, or accounting errors. But when an experienced employee handles the issue professionally and with care, we’re more inclined to remain loyal.

Good staff resolve customer issues fairly—sometimes in favor of the client, sometimes the business. They possess strong product knowledge, a genuine concern for their clients, and a sense of loyalty and pride in working for a company that values them. So why do some companies treat their employees so poorly, then wonder why staff don’t return that loyalty? This disconnect highlights the abundance of poor management in today’s workplace. Many managers stay hidden in offices, disconnected from frontline operations and, more importantly, from the customers.

It’s no surprise that more people prefer shopping online these days. From a consumer’s perspective, it’s a no-brainer. Why go to the trouble of visiting a store to buy clothes, appliances, or electronics when you can shop online more conveniently, view product specifications, obtain genuine feedback (both positive & negative), and avoid the hassle of limited stock? These days, it’s easier to only visit retail stores to use them as a showroom if I need to inspect a specific product before purchasing it online.

After criticising retail shop fronts more broadly, it’s refreshing to see how a professionally run, nationwide corporate chain can operate both properly and efficiently. It’s a pity the Big Two in the grocery sector couldn’t learn something from this.

National hardware chain, Bunnings Warehouse, appears to be one of the few retail outlets in Australia that truly understands what its customers want. The company has clearly studied its niche in the retail market and established itself as a reliable and genuinely enjoyable place to shop & importantly, has online shopping as an option.

Bunnings has not been without controversy. The company has faced criticism from product suppliers who have taken issue with its business practices, particularly regarding negotiations with manufacturers. While some of these concerns are justified, especially with shifting expectations around supplier relationships, many critics seem resistant to changes in trading arrangements, particularly those accelerated by the post-COVID economy.

Years ago, Bunnings identified a gap in the home handyman and hardware market. Consumers were frustrated with retailers that stocked only a limited range of essential items. In response, Bunnings positioned itself as a comprehensive one-stop shop, offering everything from DIY hardware and plumbing supplies to a wide selection of timber, tools, pumps, yard care & gardening, plant nursery & a multitude of home handiman items for both DIY enthusiasts and professional tradespeople.

Bunnings appears to employ a wide cross-section of staff across various age groups—from young adults, including university students, to middle-aged men and women, and even older, possibly semi-retired individuals. I can’t recall ever having a poor experience with any of their staff at any store. In my experience, they’ve all been more than willing to offer helpful advice and guide customers toward the right purchases.

Their large, accessible car parks, cafes & coffee shops, DIY workshops, kids Easter & Christmas functions & school holidays craft projects, and convenient store locations further enhance the overall shopping experience.

Perhaps most endearingly, Bunnings has made a cultural contribution to Australia by popularising the iconic “Bunnings snag”—a humble sausage sizzle that has become a beloved part of the national food culture.

Bunnings sausage sizzles are a popular tradition across Australia, often featuring large crowds of people, especially on weekends. These events are a way for community groups to raise funds, and are an important part of the Bunnings experience for many customers.

Without wanting to appear as an apologist for Bunnings’ corporate practices, it’s fair to say the company is often targeted due to the tall poppy syndrome. As a large multinational, it operates its stores efficiently and serves a broad range of customers, from home handymen to professional tradespeople.

Bunnings has become a national icon in Australia and remains one of the few bricks-and-mortar retailers that almost everyone genuinely enjoys shopping at.

It’s interesting to note that the vast majority of shopfront retailers could benefit from taking a leaf out of Bunnings’ playbook. By adjusting their retail operations to align more closely with the practices of a successful operator like Bunnings, they might find greater success in keeping customers satisfied—and, just as importantly, encouraging them to return.

While this latest blog article may sound like an advertisement for Bunnings, that certainly isn’t the intention. However, it does make me acutely aware that there are very few other retail outlets that immediately come to mind which consistently go the extra mile for their customers the way Bunnings does.

It’s somewhat disappointing that there aren’t more comparable organisations I can point to as benchmarks.

We’ve just had our federal election in Australia this past weekend, with Anthony Albanese’s Labor Party being re-elected for the next term of three years. I added this piece to my blog last year https://porsche91722.com/2024/11/30/australia-what-do-you-want-from-your-government/

Although most election campaigns descend into slanging matches, this one was particularly vicious from The LNP, with name-calling and smear tactics starting early. Their leader, Peter Dutton, was especially combative, spreading what he claimed was information, but in reality, much of it was misinformation. Let’s be honest—these weren’t just half-truths or misleading claims; many of the policies put forward were outright lies and poorly conceived, with no chance of gaining traction among voters.

Dutton, for reasons known only to himself and his inner circle, advanced several ill-advised policies seemingly designed to pander to the party’s base. Proposals such as establishing nuclear power stations and aligning himself with Donald Trump did little to broaden his appeal. His attempt to present himself as a “strongman” only solidified his image as a loudmouth bully—an image shaped during his time as Home Affairs Minister in Scott Morrison’s government. The voters saw through his rhetoric, rejected both his leadership and his party, and effectively removed him from the Australian political landscape. He was soundly beaten by the Labor candidate Ali France in his outer Brisbane electorate. His inability to connect with female voters was another significant factor in his downfall. The LNP’s outdated attitudes toward gender equality, its continuous subservience to the ultra-right-wing media, and its resistance to giving women an equal voice have all contributed to its growing irrelevance among younger voters.

Further compounding this was the party’s decision to oppose reconciliation efforts with First Nations Australians. Dutton’s & the LNP’s strategies might have resonated fifty, twenty, or even ten years ago, but in this election—the first where Millennials and Gen Z outnumbered Baby Boomers—those old, regressive policies simply failed to resonate. Dutton and his colleagues were flogging a dead horse, clinging to outdated ideas that no longer reflect the values of modern Australia.

With Australia dominated by two major political parties, many Australians have long sought a genuine alternative. The Greens were once expected to fill that void. I’ve previously supported them—giving them my second preference behind Labor and directly voting for them in the Senate. Historically, the Greens held strong environmental values and policies aligned with their name. However, they seem to have lost their way in recent years.

In an effort to broaden their platform beyond environmentalism, the Greens have adopted obstructionist tactics—such as opposing housing reform, which have alienated many supporters. Rather than offering constructive solutions to Australia’s housing crisis, they’ve been perceived as blocking progress. They gave support to fringe & often radical protest groups, like the CFMEU. In trying to make themselves more relevant to the Australian voting public, the Greens’ decision to spotlight the Palestinian movement and broader Middle East issues as a central political concern in Australia has further alienated them from their original grassroots base rooted in environmental activism. For many Australians, including myself, the best way to describe our perspective on the Palestinian issue is that while we support progress and positive change in that region, it feels distant and disconnected from the pressing challenges we face at home. By voting against Labor’s housing reforms after they had passed the lower house, the Greens effectively stifled momentum to alleviate the housing market pressure. This approach has cost them support at the ballot box. Although the Greens’ overall voter numbers nationwide did not change significantly compared to the last election, their support across individual electorates declined noticeably. This shift resulted in several of their former parliamentary members losing their seats.

In this election, I placed them further down my list of preferences. I still consider myself a strong supporter of green policies and hope the new Labor government will take stronger action on curbing carbon emissions & making some headway into improving our drastic housing market situation in Australia. A revitalized, focused Greens party could still play a critical role in shaping environmental policy—but only if they return to their core mission and rebuild trust with their original supporters.

Another interesting observation from the election result is the response from polling organisations, whose predictions varied significantly throughout the campaign. Media outlets—depending on their left- or right-leaning editorial stance—seemed to selectively highlight polling data that aligned with their own narratives. The outcome, however, was that none of these polls came close to predicting Labor’s landslide victory. Despite claiming a margin of error of plus or minus 5%, their projections were far off the mark.

So, where to from here?

I’m glad that Labor won, based on the policies that they presented, but for the sake of good governance, the country also needs an effective opposition—one with strong policy platforms that can hold the sitting government accountable. A healthy democracy depends on the presence of diverse, well-argued perspectives, not just from the ruling party, but from a capable and constructive opposition as well.

Unfortunately, the previous LNP opposition failed to meet this standard. Rather than offering thoughtful alternatives or engaging in reasoned debate, they seemed more interested in obstructing everything the Labor government put forward. Their proposals lacked credibility and vision, making it clear they weren’t focused on contributing meaningfully to the policy conversation. To many Australians, the Liberal-National Party (LNP) appears to be heavily influenced by ultra-conservative media conglomerates such as those owned by Rupert Murdoch, which often serve to amplify their political agenda. The LNP has long enjoyed the support of far-right and conservative business interests that prioritize their own agendas over the broader national good.

When comparing party leaders, Anthony Albanese came across as a genuine figure with the interests of Australians at heart.

In contrast, Peter Dutton, with his forced, creepy, insincere smile, resembled more of a Trump-style imitator.

Leadership is everything, and Australians made it clear they preferred someone authentic—someone offering realistic and achievable election promises, rather than indulging in outlandish, American-style political hostility.

In my view, the National Party—the “N” in LNP—which primarily represents regional farming and mining communities, should seriously consider breaking away from the Liberals. In this election, the Liberal Party—the “L” in LNP—which has traditionally positioned itself as the party of urban elites, lost the majority of its metropolitan seats in the Federal Parliament, underscoring a growing disconnect with urban Australia.

In the immediate post-election analysis, as they reflect on “what went wrong,” the Liberals remain stubbornly attached to the belief that their policies were sound and that voters simply misunderstood them. This kind of arrogance was precisely what cost them the election—and they still seem unable to grasp that fact.

However, both Libs & Nats understand that without this relationship, neither holds enough political weight or credibility to be truly influential on their own.

So, we are left with this unholy alliance in opposition, which, from a National Party perspective, only appears to be doing themselves more harm than good.

A strong and effective opposition is essential to good governance—and, ultimately, to a healthier and more accountable democracy. However, one constant in politics is that, regardless of which party is in power, greed, corruption, jealousy, and the pursuit of power inevitably lead to self-destruction.

Every year on Australia Day, January 26, we present awards to individuals who have accomplished remarkable things in service to our country. For some time now, I’ve wondered how these awards are judged. Apparently, the process involves nomination and review.

I don’t want to sound negative about these awards, as I’m sure many recipients are truly deserving. However, I’ve long held the view that some of these beneficiaries—particularly figures from the worlds of sport, entertainment, and politics—may not be the most appropriate recipients of national achievement awards. Many of these individuals are already highly paid and have gained notoriety through their talents, often amassing significant wealth in the process. While it’s true that some have contributed generously to charitable causes, it still raises the question: are the right people truly being recognised?

Although there are certainly deserving individuals acknowledged for their service to many different causes across Australia, we rarely see recognition given to the people who quietly and consistently make a difference—our doctors, nurses, emergency room workers, and medical researchers who save lives daily. Where are the honours for our first responders—paramedics, firefighters, and police officers? What about those who have committed themselves for decades to helping people with disabilities or mental health challenges? Instead, it often seems the spotlight falls on sports stars and entertainers—individuals who already have their own award nights to celebrate industry achievements.

Perhaps the reason for this imbalance is that the vast majority of those working in emergency services and community care never seek accolades. They do their jobs with quiet pride, motivated by the satisfaction of helping others, not by the pursuit of awards.

Frankly, I find it a bit absurd when the media highlights the mental health struggles and stress faced by celebrities and athletes. Really? It must be so difficult earning millions to perform in front of a camera or play a sport you love. And yet, the media often labels these individuals as “heroes.” Try working in an emergency department at a large metropolitan or regional hospital & see what pressure really is. It isn’t a gig that you can stress out of & go home when you are under pressure. Every day, you have people’s lives & survival in your hands. You often don’t get a second chance if you stuff up & make a mistake. There’s no ten minutes in the sin bin or a stint on the sidelines to regather your thoughts & composure before you come back & do it again.

Meanwhile, our real heroes work every day without applause—our military personnel, paramedics, police officers, and hospital staff. They confront danger, trauma, pain, and death daily, yet they continue to show up, shift after shift. Paramedics & hospital staff regularly face violent assaults from some patients whom they are attempting to help. These dedicated and highly trained health care professionals don’t get paid massive wages and don’t ask for praise or awards. Yet, we still hand out hollow honours to those whose most notable achievement might be winning a race, starring in a film, or playing for Australia.

Give me a break.

………Edit June 2025- At the recent King’s Birthday Honours List, former Prime Minister Scott Morrison was appointed a Companion of the Order of Australia (AC) for eminent service to the people and parliament of Australia, particularly for leading the national pandemic response.

I nearly fell off my chair when I read this.

As anyone living in Australia knows, Morrison is arguably the last person who deserves recognition for his role during the COVID-19 pandemic. Australia’s success in navigating the crisis was due almost entirely to the actions of individual state governments—across all political lines—who held their nerve and made tough decisions despite weak federal leadership.

It was the state governments, along with their teams of expert healthcare professionals, who steered the country through the pandemic. While much of the world descended into chaos, these state-level responses kept Australians safe. In contrast, the Morrison government appeared determined to steer the country toward disaster through poor communication, delayed action, and inconsistent messaging.

That period in Australia’s history was incredibly difficult, and it could have been far worse had the states not stood firm against Morrison’s lackluster leadership. To award him for “eminent service” during this time is baffling—and, to many Australians, deeply frustrating.