It is the start of the new year, and some of you might have experienced the ;last child leaving the nest as their schooling lives concluded.So, the kids have moved out. The house is yours again. And contrary to what everyone keeps asking, you are not lost, broken or in need of fixing. You are standing at the threshold of one of the most exciting phases of your life, and it is time to claim it.This is not about coping with loss. This is about stepping into freedom you have not experienced in decades. After years of putting children first, scheduling your life around school runs and sport practices, and answering the question "what's for dinner" approximately seven thousand times, you finally get to ask yourself a different question: what do I actually want?Empty nest syndrome is real, and the adjustment takes time. But the narrative that paints this phase as something to survive rather than something to savour needs challenging. You have not lost your purpose. You have graduated from one incredibly demanding role and now get to decide what comes next. That is not a crisis. That is an opportunity.For women navigating this transition alongside menopause, the challenge intensifies. Hormonal upheaval combined with major life change can feel overwhelming. But here is what nobody tells you: once you get through it, many women report feeling more confident, clear headed and powerful than they have in years. The physical changes are real, but so is the mental clarity and reduced tolerance for nonsense that often arrives on the other side.The empty nest hits differently depending on your circumstances. Only children leave all at once, creating abrupt change. Multiple children create a gradual progression. Neither is easier or harder, just different. What matters is not how it happens but how you respond.Start by reclaiming your identity beyond motherhood. You are not just someone's mum. You never were, even when the role consumed most of your time and energy. The interests, dreams and ambitions you had before children did not disappear. They just got shelved. Now is the time to pull them back out and examine which ones still excite you.Think back to a time when you knew exactly who you were and what made you come alive. For many people, this is somewhere between ages ten and twelve, before the world started telling them who they should be. What did you love doing? What made hours disappear? What would you do all day if given the chance?Make a list. Everything counts. Reading. Writing. Drawing. Building things. Being outdoors. Solving problems. Making people laugh. Whatever lit you up then probably still holds clues to what will fulfil you now. You might not want to do exactly the same activities, but the essence of what drew you remains relevant.Now write down what you would do if nothing held you back. No budget constraints. No time limitations. No worries about what anyone else thinks. This is not about being realistic. This is about getting honest with yourself about what you actually want, not what you think you should want.The gap between childhood passions and impossible dreams often reveals your authentic path forward. Maybe you loved writing stories and dream of publishing a novel. Start writing. Maybe you loved making things and dream of opening a shop. Start making. The dream does not have to happen exactly as imagined to be worth pursuing. Action creates momentum, and momentum creates possibilities you cannot see from standing still.Reconnect with people who knew you before children defined your existence. Old friends remember versions of you that you may have forgotten. Reaching out can feel awkward, especially after years of lost contact, but most people respond positively. Everyone gets busy. Everyone loses touch. Admitting you miss someone and want to reconnect takes courage, but it opens doors.Suggest specific activities rather than vague promises to catch up sometime. Join a class together. Start a walking group. Revive an old hobby you both enjoyed. Concrete plans make reconnection easier and create regular touchpoints for rebuilding relationships.For coupled parents, the empty nest offers chances to remember why you got together in the first place. All those conversations interrupted by children needing things can now flow uninterrupted. Spontaneous plans become possible again. You can eat dinner at 9pm if you want. You can leave the house without coordinating multiple schedules. You can have loud conversations and intimate moments without worrying about who might walk in.This transition can strengthen relationships, but expecting immediate bliss ignores reality. You are both adjusting. Old patterns need renegotiating. Time together that once felt precious because it was rare now stretches endlessly ahead, and that can feel strange. Be patient with the process. Most couples report that after initial awkwardness, they rediscover each other in wonderful ways.Here is what you need to understand about external pressure: everyone has opinions about what you should do next, and none of them matter unless they align with what you actually want. People will ask what you plan to do with all your free time. They will suggest you get a job, start volunteering, take up golf, travel more, or any number of things they think you should do.You do not have more free time just because children left home. Managing a household requires the same effort regardless of how many people live there. If you love homemaking and finances allow it, keep doing it. You do not owe anyone an explanation for how you spend your days. Homemaking is legitimate work that creates value, and you are not less than anyone because you choose to focus on it.Working parents face different pressure. Now that children have left, surely you should pursue that promotion, take on more responsibility, push harder for advancement. Maybe you should. But only if you genuinely want to, not because someone else thinks your career should be your primary focus now.The same applies to retirement pressure. Some people face expectations to step back from work based purely on age, despite having no desire to retire. Others feel guilty for wanting to retire when they could keep working. Your career decisions belong to you. The only timeline that matters is yours.Reframe how you think about this phase. Your nest is not empty. It is evolving. You are not losing your children. They are becoming independent adults, which is exactly what you raised them to do. This is success, not failure. This is the natural progression of healthy family development.Think of your home as having an open door rather than an empty nest. People leave and return. Adult children visit. Partners of adult children become part of your family. Grandchildren may eventually arrive. The composition changes, but connection continues. Your relationship with your children is not ending. It is transforming into something different and potentially richer.This is your second act, your sequel, your next season. The first part of your story involved intensive hands on parenting. This part gets to be about whatever you decide it should be about. That is not a void to fill. That is creative freedom to design your life according to your preferences.You are enough exactly as you are, doing whatever you choose to do. Your worth is not tied to productivity, achievement or service to others. It exists simply because you exist. What brings you joy may look nothing like what fulfils other people, and that is completely fine.Some people will start businesses. Others will travel extensively. Some will write books or create art. Others will deepen their spiritual practices, volunteer for causes they care about, or finally master skills they have always wanted to learn. Some will do absolutely nothing that looks impressive from the outside and will be completely fulfilled doing it.The empty nest is a beginning. What it begins is entirely up to you. After decades of putting children first, you get to put yourself first without apology or guilt. You get to prioritise your dreams, your interests, your wellbeing. You get to be selfish in the best possible way.This is not the end of your relevance or usefulness. This is the beginning of a phase where you finally have the time, resources and life experience to pursue things that matter to you. You have spent years developing skills, building resilience and learning what works and what does not. Now you get to apply all of that hard won wisdom to creating the life you actually want.Stop waiting for permission. Stop looking for validation. Stop wondering if you are doing this phase right. There is no right way. There is only your way. Figure out what lights you up and do more of it. Figure out what drains you and do less of it. Protect your energy, claim your time, and build the life that makes you excited to wake up in the morning.The nest is not empty. You are still in it. And what you do with it from here is limited only by your imagination and willingness to take up space in your own life. This is your time. Take it.

That first day of school is a milestone parents have been anticipating and possibly dreading since their child was born. You've bought the uniform, covered the books, packed the lunchbox, and taken a thousand photos. But there's a whole lot about starting school that nobody mentions until you're in the thick of it. The emotional hit affects parents far more than kids in many cases. You might cry dropping your child off on that first day, and that's completely normal. Watching your baby walk into that classroom marks the end of an era. They're not babies anymore. They're becoming independent little people with their own lives separate from you. It's exciting and heartbreaking simultaneously. Some parents feel relief that their kids are in school and they can reclaim time, while others feel genuine grief. Both reactions are valid. Your child might not tell you anything about their school day. The classic "How was school?" question gets met with "Fine" or "I don't remember" from many kids. This is frustrating when you're desperate to know what happened during those hours away from you. Kids are often so overwhelmed by the day that they can't articulate it when they get home. Information dribbles out over the following days or weeks. You might not hear about the classroom hamster or the new best friend until weeks after the fact. Some kids are private about school and don't share much regardless of your questioning. Learning to accept this takes time. School exhaustion is real and hits hard those first few weeks. Kids who never napped might suddenly need afternoon sleeps. They might fall asleep in the car on the way home. Evening meltdowns over nothing become common because they've held it together all day at school and fall apart at home where they feel safe. This exhaustion lasts weeks while they adjust to full school days. Adjusting bedtimes earlier helps, even though it feels ridiculously early to put a five-year-old to bed at 7pm. Your child's friendship dramas become your dramas too. Who they sit with at lunch, who played with them at recess, who said something mean, and who wouldn't share the blocks suddenly consume your thoughts. Your heart breaks when they say nobody played with them, even though you know it's probably not entirely true. Friendships at this age are fluid. Best friends change weekly. Kids who play together one day might ignore each other the next. Resisting the urge to fix friendship problems teaches kids to navigate social situations independently, but it's hard watching them struggle. School means sickness. Lots of sickness. Kids starting school get every virus circulating through classrooms. Expect hand, foot and mouth disease, gastro, endless colds, conjunctivitis, and various respiratory infections throughout that first year. Your child's immune system is building defences, but the process is miserable for everyone. You'll use more sick leave than you planned. Your child will recover just in time to catch the next thing. This is normal, unfortunately, and it does improve after the first year. Parent politics exist and can be surprising. School drop-off and pick-up become social events where cliques form. Some parents are friendly and welcoming, others cliquey and exclusive. Birthday party invitation politics start immediately. Your child might not be invited to parties, or you might feel obligated to invite the whole class to your child's party even though you don't know half these kids. Navigating parent relationships while trying not to let any weirdness affect your child's friendships takes diplomacy. Homework starts in kindy or prep in many schools. It's often basic, like reading a book together or practicing writing their name. But establishing homework routines early matters because expectations increase every year. Finding time after school when kids are exhausted from a full day becomes a daily battle. Some education experts question whether homework for young kids has any benefit, but most schools assign it regardless. Fighting with your five-year-old about homework wasn't something you envisioned when picturing the school years. School costs far more than expected. Uniform, shoes, hat, bag, lunchbox, drink bottle, stationery, library bag, booklist items, excursion contributions, photograph packages, fundraising expectations, swimming lessons fees, art supplies, classroom contributions, and school fees if it's a private school add up shockingly fast. Then there are unexpected costs like replacing lost jumpers, buying new shoes when they wear out within weeks, replacing water bottles that disappear, and contributing to class gifts or events. The ongoing costs throughout the year often exceed initial outlays. Your child's behaviour might regress. Toilet accidents might start happening again, speech might become babyish, clinginess increases, or behaviour at home deteriorates even though school reports say they're perfect at school. Kids use all their energy holding it together at school and have nothing left for home behaviour. They're processing huge changes and sometimes regress to younger behaviours when overwhelmed. This is normal developmental response to major transitions. It passes, but those first months can be rough. You don't have to be perfect at this. You'll forget things, send wrong items in lunchboxes, miss notes sent home, forget casual clothes day, and feel like every other parent has it more together than you do. They don't. Everyone is making it up as they go along. Teachers are surprisingly understanding about parental mistakes because they've seen it all before. Your child probably won't be traumatised if you forget library day or send them in uniform on free dress day, despite the dramatic tears at the time. Starting school is a massive transition for families. It changes family dynamics, routines, and daily life. The learning curve is steep for everyone. Cut yourself slack during this adjustment period. Accept help when offered. Connect with other parents going through the same challenges. Remember that struggle during the first term doesn't predict the entire school experience. Most kids and families adapt within a few months and wonder how they ever filled days before school existed. But nobody warns you about that adjustment period, and it can blindside even the most prepared parents.

Email tone makes the difference between getting what you need promptly and creating conflict or being ignored. Most of us dash off emails without considering how they'll be received, then wonder why responses are defensive or delayed. Understanding how tone works in written communication can transform your email effectiveness this year. The greeting matters more than people realise. "Hi Sarah" feels friendly and approachable. "Sarah," feels abrupt and possibly annoyed. No greeting at all feels rude, like you can't be bothered with basic courtesy. Matching your greeting to your relationship with the recipient and the email's purpose creates the right tone from the start. "Dear" sounds formal and distant unless you're in a very corporate environment. "Hey" works for colleagues you're friendly with but not for clients or senior managers. Getting the greeting right sets up everything that follows. The opening line establishes whether you're demanding or requesting. "I need you to send me that report" sounds entitled and commanding. "Could you please send me that report when you have a moment?" sounds respectful and acknowledges the other person's time. "I'm hoping to get that report by COB today if possible" explains your timeframe while leaving room for negotiation. How you phrase requests affects whether people want to help you or make you wait. Explaining context before making requests helps people understand why you're asking and why it matters. "I need this information for a client meeting tomorrow afternoon, which is why I'm asking for it today" provides context that makes your request more reasonable. People are more willing to prioritise your needs when they understand why something's urgent rather than assuming you're just impatient or disorganised. Avoiding all caps and excessive punctuation prevents your emails from reading as shouting. "I NEED THIS ASAP!!!" comes across as aggressive and panicky. "This is fairly urgent, so I'd appreciate your help as soon as possible" conveys urgency without seeming unhinged. Multiple question marks or exclamation marks make emails feel frantic or emotional. Punctuation is powerful in written communication where tone of voice doesn't exist. The passive-aggressive email is a workplace plague that achieves nothing positive. "As I mentioned in my previous email" implies the recipient should have already done something and you're annoyed they haven't. "Just following up" when you only sent the first email yesterday feels pushy. "Per my last email" has become internet shorthand for passive-aggressive corporate speak. If you need something that hasn't happened, clearly restate what you need and when rather than implying incompetence or unwillingness. Using "we" instead of "you" makes emails feel collaborative rather than accusatory. "We need to improve these processes" feels like a team problem to solve together. "You need to improve these processes" feels like blame. "We should think about how to handle this differently next time" invites discussion. "You should have handled this differently" sounds like criticism. Small word changes shift tone significantly. Acknowledging when requests are above and beyond normal expectations shows respect for people's time and workload. "I know this is outside your usual responsibilities, but I'm hoping you might be able to help" recognises you're asking a favour. "I realise this is a quick turnaround" acknowledges you're creating urgency for someone else. "I appreciate this might be difficult timing" shows awareness that your needs might conflict with their schedule. Acknowledgment doesn't guarantee compliance, but it makes people more willing to help. The tone you use with different recipients needs adjusting. Emails to your boss require more professionalism than those to colleagues at your level. Clients need more formality than internal staff. People you barely know need more explanation than people who understand context. Adjusting tone for audience seems obvious, yet many people use identical tone with everyone and wonder why some relationships feel awkward. Proofreading before sending prevents tone-destroying typos and unclear phrasing. Reading emails aloud helps identify unclear sections or accidental rudeness. That sarcastic comment that seemed funny in your head might not land in writing. That short sentence that wasn't meant to be abrupt might read as rude. Taking 30 seconds to reread emails before sending prevents problems you can't unsend later. Email timing affects how messages are received. Sending emails late at night or early morning implies you expect responses outside business hours, even if you don't. Using scheduled send for emails drafted outside work hours means they arrive during business hours and don't create after-hours pressure. Sending emails right before weekends or public holidays and expecting immediate responses annoys people. Thinking about when emails arrive helps manage expectations. The sign-off subtly reinforces your email's tone. "Thanks" or "Thank you" works for almost everything. "Cheers" feels casual and friendly but inappropriate in formal situations. "Regards" sounds stiff. "Best" or "All the best" hits middle ground between casual and formal. "Looking forward to hearing from you" gently reminds recipients a response is expected. Your sign-off is the last impression before your name, so choose based on the tone you want to leave. Using names throughout longer emails maintains personal connection. "I hope you're well, David" feels warmer than launching straight into business. "Thanks for your help with this, Emma" personalises appreciation. "Let me know if you have questions, Mark" sounds friendlier than just "Let me know if you have questions." Using names reminds recipients you're communicating with a person, not just firing off demands. Compliment sandwiches work for delivering criticism or negative feedback via email, though face-to-face conversations are better for serious issues. Starting with something positive, delivering the concern or criticism, then ending with something positive or constructive makes messages easier to receive. Pure criticism emails trigger defensiveness and shut down productive dialogue. Balanced emails that acknowledge both positives and areas for improvement feel fairer and generate better responses. Emoji use in professional emails is controversial and generationally divided. Younger workers see smiley faces and thumbs-up emoji as softening tone and adding warmth. Older workers sometimes see them as unprofessional. Reading your workplace culture and adjusting accordingly matters more than rigid rules. A smiley face after "Thanks!" can soften a request and make it feel friendlier rather than demanding. But emoji-filled emails to clients or senior executives might undermine your professional image. Context matters. Responding promptly, even just to acknowledge receipt, prevents people thinking you're ignoring them. "Thanks for your email. I'll get back to you properly by end of week" tells people their message was received and when to expect a full response. Not responding at all to requests leaves people wondering and often prompts follow-up emails that wouldn't be necessary with quick acknowledgment. The "assume positive intent" approach helps when receiving emails that seem rude. Text communication loses tone of voice, facial expressions, and body language that convey meaning. That short reply might not be rude, just quickly typed between meetings. That direct request might not be demanding, just efficiently worded. Assuming the sender meant well unless proven otherwise prevents escalating conflicts that don't actually exist. If an email genuinely upsets you, stepping away for an hour before responding prevents emotional replies you'll regret. When apologising via email, own mistakes clearly and specifically rather than offering vague apologies. "I'm sorry I missed the deadline. I mismanaged my time and should have asked for an extension earlier" takes responsibility. "I'm sorry if anyone was inconvenienced" is a non-apology that implies others are oversensitive. Clear acknowledgment of what went wrong and what you'll do differently shows accountability and prevents similar problems. The one-line email can read as abrupt even when not intended that way. "Yes." as a complete response to a question seems terse. "Yes, that works for me, thanks!" provides the same information with warmth. Single-word responses sometimes feel dismissive even when the sender meant nothing negative. Adding just a few words creates tone that prevents misunderstandings. Ending emails with clear next steps prevents confusion about what happens next. "I'll send the revised version by Wednesday" tells everyone what to expect. "Let me know which option you prefer and I'll proceed from there" clarifies you're waiting for input. "I'll follow up with you next week if I haven't heard back" sets expectations without sounding pushy. Clarity about next steps improves workflow and prevents those awkward situations where everyone's waiting for someone else to act. Your email tone reflects on your professionalism, emotional intelligence, and communication skills. Getting it right builds relationships, improves collaboration, and makes people want to work with you. Getting it wrong creates conflict, delays, and makes your working life harder than necessary. Taking time to consider tone before hitting send is effort that pays off in better working relationships and more effective communication throughout the year.

When we strip the unnecessary accoutrements of life away, what really matters is how we treat people, and if we have lived life in a way where we will be without regret. I am certain my lovely new friend John Clissold has achieved this; loved without prejudice, care without fear and lived life exactly the way he’s wanted. At 80 years young, or as he prefers, ‘67 and some summers’, John Clissold sits in his Hay home, the rainbow flag visible from the street when he first moved in, a symbol of a life f inally lived on his own terms. Born in Broken Hill in 1945, John’s early years followed a conventional path. His father was a metallurgist, his mother a school teacher. The family moved to Quorn, outside Port Augusta, before John moved to Adelaide for school. He spent over 40 years in the public service as an admin officer in the TAFE system, working across various campuses throughout Australia. “I had a fairly good life, I have no regrets,” John reflected. But beneath the surface of this seemingly ordinary existence, John was hiding a fundamental truth about himself. From the age of eight, John knew he was different. “I always knew I was different from other blokes, other people,” he said. But growing up in the 1950s and 60s, being openly gay wasn't just discouraged, it was dangerous. “You couldn't come out in the 60s. You'd get beaten up and probably killed,” John explained matter-of-factly. So, he did what society expected. He married, twice, and had children. He hid behind society’s expectations of what men do, living a life that wasn’t truly his own. It wasn’t until John was 57 years old that everything changed. After decades of living according to others’ expectations, he made the decision that would define the rest of his life; he came out. “I decided I wanted to be who I was,” John said simply, though the simplicity of those words belies the enormity of the decision. “I’d hidden behind society’s expectations of what men do.” He left his young wife and two young children; one wasn’t quite one year old. He left her the house, the car, everything. He went to the southeast for TAFE work and stayed there for three or four years before returning to Adelaide. When he told his mother he was getting divorced, her response was pragmatic, “Why this time?” “I’m coming out,” John told her. “Why didn't you tell me when you were growing up?” she asked. It was a question with a good answer. “Most kids think they’ll get rejected by their families,” John explained. “And there’s a lot of kids who do get rejected by their families and tossed out of home.” After coming out, John met Graham. “He was HIV positive, and he tried HIV drugs, which made him even sicker than he was originally,” John recalled. At a time when HIV/AIDS carried enormous stigma, when hospital staff wore full hazmat gear to attend to HIV patients, John's response to learning about Graham’s status was simple compassion. “I just took his face in my hands and said, ‘It doesn’t matter,’” John remembered. They’d always practised safe sex. What was the problem? “He said, ‘You don't mind?’ Graham’s relief was palpable.” John became involved with People Living with HIV/AIDS, volunteering at their community centre in Glenelg, helping to serve lunches and spending time with people at a time when society largely shunned them. Tragically, after seven years together, Graham died of a heart attack. John came home to find him dead on the f loor, a trauma that still resonates decades later. In 2012, John met Michael at what he calls the men’s club, the gay sauna in Adelaide. “He always said, ‘I know how you got me. You stuck your foot out and I couldn’t get past. I had to sit down,’” John said, laughing at the memory. They hit it off immediately and would be together until Michael’s death earlier this year. Remarkably, they never had an argument in all those years. “If I started, I’d just walk away,” John said. “I’d go, ‘This isn’t going to work, is it?’ So, we’d just sit down and we’d talk.” The connection went deeper than they initially realised. Michael’s mother had been born in Broken Hill, like John. They later met a philanthropist woman who had been born the day before John, also in Broken Hill. The threads of their lives had been intertwined long before they met. It was Michael and John’s travels that first brought them to Hay. “We used to travel through this town at least twice a year,” John recalled. They’d go from Adelaide across the plain to Griffith, stopping in the little town of Hay along the way. “The people in this town were very welcoming,” John said warmly. They loved the Rainbow on the Plains festival so much that they made a decision that would impact the community for years to come. Someone mentioned needing to buy tickets for festival events. “I thought it was all free,” John said. After discussing it with Michael, they decided to donate $2,000 to establish what they called the Gay Nomads Gift, funding specifically for young people aged 17 to 25 who didn't have the money to attend Rainbow on the Plains events. “Every year I top it up,” he said. It’s his way of supporting his people, as he calls them. In 2022, John and Michael got married, a celebration of their decade together. But it came after years of challenge. In 2017, Michael was diagnosed with non Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He went into remission, but the reprieve was temporary. In 2018, Michael was diagnosed with dementia, Alzheimer's disease. It ran through his family, his grandfather had it, his mum, his older sister, his brother. “And then he got it badly,” John said quietly. “I looked after him at home for as long as I could.” When a place became available at Resthaven, part of the Uniting Church’s care services, John made the difficult decision to move Michael there. He gradually went downhill. On May 3 this year, Michael died. “The only thing that scared me on our wedding day was Michael came outside and looked around and said, ‘What are all these people doing here?’ And I would have had to say, ‘Well, we’re getting married today.’ He might have said, ‘Well, no, I’m not,’ and walked back inside. That was the only thing that scared me on that day.” Despite the difficulties, or perhaps because of them, they grew closer in those last couple of years. “That’s what life’s all about," John reflected. “Finding somebody you love, and it’s not about sexuality or gender or anything like that, that’s your person. You are just together.” Today, Michael sits in an urn in John’s bedroom. “We still have a natter,” John said with a smile. After Michael’s death, John decided to do something for himself. At his fabulous party at the Services Club, people kept asking, “When are you buying a house? When are you coming back to live here?” So, he bought his house in Hay, “the best house in Hay,” as someone at the club told him. The welcome he’s received has been everything he hoped for and more. At the club, people come up to say how pleased they are to have him there. “The welcoming and the family-like quality that Rainbow on the Plains has developed out of nowhere is something magical,” John said. “In Adelaide, I must have had 20 good friends. "Here, I’ve got maybe 20 good friends, and they all want me here. This is where I want to be.” John’s involvement with the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, the drag nun order that participates in Rainbow on the Plains, began after Graham’s death and has become an integral part of his identity in Hay. His first parade was memorable for multiple reasons. At the end of that first parade, all the sisters jumped into the pool. “The only problem with a habit, a nun’s habit, is that there’s so much material. And when you go in the water, it gets a lot heavier and it goes right over the top of your head as well. “I’m flapping in the pool thinking, “Bugger, I’ve got my phone in my pocket.” Ever practical, John has already planned his burial. He wants a natural burial, standing up. “It saves on space,” he said with characteristic pragmatism. “You just need a posthole digger.” He’s discussed it with someone on the council, who’s going to put it to the committee. If they can’t accommodate his wishes in Hay's natural burial ground, he’ll buy an acre off a farmer and be buried on their land. “I want to die at home, with my friends around me. Maybe my family will come from Adelaide. We’ll have a fabulous time. I’ll pay for you all to go out for a meal.” When asked what message he’d like to share, John doesn't hesitate. “Be who you want to be. Live how you want to live. “If your parents or your friends don’t like the way you are, it’s not your problem. It’s their problem.” It’s advice born from decades of hiding, followed by decades of freedom. At 80, John has the clarity that comes from having lived both ways, according to others’ expectations and according to his own truth. His relationship with his ex-wife has evolved over the years. “She and I are good friends now,” John said. She’s told him she was too young and too narrow-minded back then. “She said, ‘I didn’t realise that gay people can be married but still have separate lives. We could have done that and we could have co parented our children’.” It’s an observation that speaks to how much society has changed, and how much further there still is to go. John’s house in Hay, with its 51 solar panels and plans for a native garden out front, is more than just a house. It’s a statement. The rainbow flag flying outside isn't just decoration, it's a declaration that after 57 years of hiding, John Clissold is finally, fully, unapologetically himself. “Gay people need more affirmation than we actually get,” John reflected. It’s why the Gay Nomads Gift matters so much to him. It’s why he’s open about his story. It’s why he lives authentically, visibly, in a small country town. “If anybody who reads this needs help, come and talk to me,” John offered. “I live in Hay.” It’s a simple invitation, but it carries the weight of a lifetime of experience; the struggles, the losses, the loves, and ultimately, the hard-won freedom to simply be himself. At 80 years young, John Clissold has finally found home. And in finding it, he’s helping others find theirs too.

About 12pm on Tuesday January 6, 2026, police attached to Barrier Police District observed a white Holden station wagon travelling at excessive speed on Namatjira Avenue in Coomealla. Police attempted to stop the vehicle however it failed to do so and a pursuit was initiated. This pursuit was terminated due to safety concerns.A short time later, police attached to Barrier Highway Patrol observed the same vehicle near Robinvale in Victoria travelling back into New South Wales. Police attempted to stop it, however a second pursuit was initiated. Police observed the vehicle travelling at excess speeds through the township of Euston. During this pursuit, police observed an occupant of the vehicle allegedly throw an object out of the vehicle and towards the pursuing police vehicle.Police continued to pursue the vehicle west on the Sturt Highway and at times observed it to dangerously overtake other road users at excessively high speeds. Police observed the vehicle to turn off of the Sturt Highway and enter a vineyard before losing control and crashing. Police arrested the female driver and two female passengers before conveying them to Dareton police station.The driver was charged with:* Police pursuit - not stop - drive at speed;* Police pursuit - not stop - drive dangerously;* Goods in personal custody suspect being stolen (m/v);* Class A m/v exceed speed >45km/h;* Drive vehicle under influence of drugs;* Unlawfully possess number plates;* Possess vehicle part with altered/defaced etc part number;* Never licensed person drive vehicle on road;* Goods in personal custody suspected being stolen (not m/v).Police charged both passengers in relation to an outstanding warrant as well as property-related offences. Police charged one passenger for the offence of "Intentionally throw object at vehicle/vessel risk safety".The driver and both passengers were bail refused by police to appear before Bail Division court on Wednesday 7th January 2026. The driver was bail refused by the court until Tuesday 13th January 2026 to next appear before Wentworth Local Court.

We recently reached out to the community, asking if anyone remembered when the Bank Street mural was painted and we received a wide variety of dates. It was Linda Wright who finally pointed us in the direction of the 1984 Riverine Grazier archives. The mural was painted as part of the Festival of the Plains celebrations which took place in Hay in September 1984. The Festival played out across 10 event filled days, during which the mural evolved. “The mural, which has already been commenced on the wall of Miller Huthwaites, will have its Open Day, on Monday. “All residents, young and old, are invited to help paint the theme which will concentrate on early transportation. “It is expected this will take the full Festival week to complete.” The Riverine Grazier, September 19, 1984. The Bank Street mural is now part of the Foodworks supermarket exterior. The mural scene includes a drover’s dream, and a number of scenes from Hay’s history – river shipping, Cobb and Co coaching days, the Merino industry and Chinese market gardens. The western panel was given over to local children, who contributed to the mural with what the Grazier described as “free expression.” As a year four student of St Mary’s I remember walking along Pine Street in two lines, to take our place along the wall, adding a couple of paint strokes alongside school mates, before we were moved along so the next child could have a go. The Grazier featured a photograph on the front page on September 19, in the lead up to the Festival. It showed Kate Gibson, Pat Harben, Norm Connor and Maggie Clark at the mural, with paint brushes and contributes them as the first to put paint on the wall. The Festival started with a street procession led by Hay Citizen’s Band, and fun day at Hay Park. Hay Lions Club’s giant lion head parade float won first prize, and after workshops with local schools, painted clowns of all ages and stilt walkers filled the park. Dave Swan, Murray Dunn and Sharon Weymouth won the gumboot throwing competition and Ken Munn and Sean Simpson were equal winners of the nail driving competition. Leanne Congdon and Jenny Williams shared the win in the women’s section. At a grand function at the Service Club Daph Myers – representing the Old Stalwarts Committee - was crowned the Personality of the Plains. Other entrants were Liz O’Donnell (now Matthews) representing Hay Golf Club, Russell Vivian (Rotary Club) and Grant Mitchell (Youth Club). Hay Races, the One Tree Bush Picnic Races, three days of Tennis, a golf competition, a prawn and chicken night at the Golf Club and a mardi gras at the civic centre (now Hay Library) all added to the jam-packed schedule of events. Shop windows in Lachlan Street were decorated for the festivities, and Long’s Butchery (now Macker’s Meats) took first prize. Their window boasted “galah stew, fresh goanna and rabbit and quail steaks.” The Bank Street mural led the way for a series of pubic artworks that have since transformed Lachlan Street: Murals under Hay Bridge - Located under the Hay Bridge beside the Murrumbidgee River, the bridge pylons were painted by inmates of Ivanhoe’s Warakirri Centre in 2005. Bushy Bend sculptures - The walking track follows the curves of the Murrumbidgee River and features large public sculptures by artists John Wood and John Woodward. The interpretations were installed in 2012. The Spot mural – arguably one of Hay’s most photographed corners, Steph Cattanach had the distinctive mural painted in 2018 by sign writer Greg Chandler. At the time, Steph operated the unique Spot Gallery and creative art space, where Saltbush Stretch is now located. Water Street water towers - Using the town’s Water Tanks as a backdrop, artists Matt Adante and Bill Campbell created a lasting memorial to the contribution of the people of Hay to the World Wars. Completed in December 2020 the towering murals feature service personnel Lieutenant Lorna Margaret Whyte, Private Victor George Murray, Corporal Clifford Leslie Farlow, Private William ‘George’ Cannon and Private Norman Charles Flack. Mrs McGrath sculptures – John Wood returned to Hay in the middle of 2022 for the official opening of Mrs McGrath’s metal sculptures. Located on the forecourt in Whitcombe Place in the centre of town the legend of the bridge operator and her pet sheep are forever memorialised – Mrs McGrath and her sheep would lead mobs across the Hay Bridge for a small fee in the 1920s and 30s. Laudromat mural – Hay’s newest Lachlan Street artwork is painted on the side of Meg’s Laundry Lounge. It was designed by local artist Rebecca Woods, who led a team of volunteers, who completed the colourful line of laundry painting over Easter 2025.

As we approach January 26, the Back Country Bulletin is proud to spotlight the remarkable Australians heading to the Back Country. From world-class athletes to high-altitude mountaineers, the 2026 Australia Day Ambassadors bring a wealth of inspiration to our local ceremonies in Hay, Balranald, Carrathool, and Central Darling.Here is your guide to who is visiting our region:-Balranald Shire Council: Ms. Isabella (Bella) BainBalranald is set to welcome a powerhouse of innovation and resilience. Isabella Bain is the 2025 NSW/ACT Young Achiever of the Year and a world-class athlete.Who she is: A multi-talented designer, STEM advocate, and co-founder of Ambient and Co, known for award-winning light installations at festivals like Vivid Sydney.Achievements: Beyond her professional success in human-centred design at IBM and Macquarie Group, Bella is a five-time World Champion in Dragon Boating.The Inspiring Bit: Diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS) in recent years, she has become a vocal advocate for accessibility and inclusion.Carrathool Shire Council: Mr. Sam Bramham OAMThe celebrations at Rankins Springs Hall will be headlined by one of Australia’s most charismatic Paralympians, Sam Bramham.Who he is: A legendary Australian Paralympic swimmer and media personality.Achievements: Sam made a splash on the world stage at the 2004 Athens and 2008 Beijing Games, ultimately claiming two Gold, two Silver, and one Bronze medal. He broke the world record for the 100m Butterfly and was awarded the Order of Australia Medal (OAM) for his services to sport.The Inspiring Bit: Known for his larrikin spirit and motivational storytelling, Sam is a master at teaching others how to turn disability into an ability through humour and grit.Central Darling Shire Council: Mr. Andrew Lock OAMIn the far west, Central Darling will be visited by a man who has quite literally stood on top of the world. Andrew Lock is Australia’s most accomplished high-altitude mountaineer.Who he is: An elite climber and the first Australian to scale all 14 of the world’s 8,000-metre peaks (the highest mountains on Earth).Achievements: Andrew’s feat is so rare that more people have been into space than have accomplished what he has. He has survived avalanches, extreme frostbite, and the mountainous Death Zone to document the world's most brutal environments.The Inspiring Bit: Awarded the OAM for his contribution to mountaineering, Andrew brings a message of extreme perseverance and risk management..Hay Shire Council: Mr. Ron DelezioThe addition of Ron Delezio will deliver a level of national inspiration to the ceremony at the Hay Gaol.Who he is: A dedicated father, humanitarian, and co-founder of the Day of Difference Foundation. He is perhaps best known to the public as the father of Sophie Delezio, whose survival following two horrific accidents captured the heart of the nation.Achievements: Since founding the Day of Difference Foundation in 2004, Ron has helped raise over $14 million to support critically injured children and their families. His work has funded vital medical equipment and research into paediatric clinical care across Australia.The Inspiring Bit: Ron is a former NSW Citizen of the Year and Australian Father of the Year. He speaks candidly about resilience, overcoming depression, and the power of "going that little bit further" when life presents unimaginable challenges.

The region lost two well-known identities in the Stud Merino industry last month following the deaths of Ken McCrabb (Avenel, Wanganella) and Craig Heath (formerly Willandra, Jerilderie). Mr McCrabb passed away on Christmas Eve at Deniliquin Hospital, aged 88. He was a noted Merino breeder and classer and with his wife, Mary, founded Avenel Merino Stud and Avenpart Kelpie Stud. They also established the Avenel Quarter Horse Stud. Despite ill health, he attended the 47th annual on-property Avenel Ram Sale in September last year, and in May was honoured for dedicated service as firefighter at the NSW Rural fire Service’s Mid-Murray Zone presentation ceremony. Following a private cremation, a memorial service is to be held on Monday, January 19.Mr McCrabb is survived by his wife Mary, sons Colin and Peter and their families. Craig Heath entered the Riverina Stud Merino scene when he married Caroline Wells, daughter of Ross and Irene Wells of Willandra in 1988. The child of wool growers, Mr Heath managed several prestigious grazing properties before becoming an integral part of the Wells’ Willandra Merino Stud. Mr Heath was killed in a tragic farming accident in western Victoria on December 14, 2025. He is survived by his wife Marion, sons Ashley and Angus and their families. The Ivanhoe community is also mourning the passing of well-known figure Mr Barry Danson. Mr Danson was a captain of the transport industry in far western NSW, founding and running Danson Earthmoving with wife Barbara and brother Graham, more than five decades ago. The business launched by working for Central Darling Shire with an Acco Bogie 12- Yard Tipper. A life-long lover of machinery, Mr Danson faithfully restored numerous historic vehicles, including a 1935-45 Caterpillar Crawler, a rare yet powerful Super 90 tractor and several Mack trucks. He was also a past president of the Ivanhoe RSL Club. Mr Danson passed away suddenly at his home on New Year’s Day. He is survived by his wife and brother, and daughter Rochelle and family.

I thought as we reach the first week of January 2025, we could look back on one of my favourite interviews of January 2025. Motherhood, and parenthood, is the hardest but most worthwhile undertaking in a person’s life. To navigate both the good and difficult times can be a challenge, but a treasure. Sadly, so many mothers and parents often go it alone, the trials and tribulations to overcome, grinning through gritted teeth and getting through silently. In a perfect world we would have extra hands, companionship of someone who knows exactly what you are going through, and someone to lean on. I believe Michael and Tarryn Hyde, and Katie Deaton and Josh Wilson have that perfect world, or as close to it as anyone will get. Katie and Tarryn both gave birth to twins; Tarryn and Michael’s Myra and Evelyn are 12 months old, and Katie and Josh’s twin daughter Florence and son Sterling are coming onto five months. Katie and Tarryn had always had a friendship, speaking often. “They wished twins on me,” Katie laughed. “They had Myra and Evelyn and after that we went to a wedding and ran into each other. “They told us we should have another baby, we should have twins, and I laughed, writing it off.” “Around Christmas, Katie messaged me and said, ‘What’s better than one baby, two and an engagement ring,’ it was so wonderful,” Tarryn said. When Katie gave birth to her twins, it was really useful to have Tarryn to ask for advice; how to pick up twins at one time, amongst other things. Before you know it, Katie and the children were around at the Hydes all the time, and they formed their little village. “I felt as though I has been out of the game for so long, as my two sons are older, it was so good to have Tarryn for support and advice,” Katie said. “It is so easy for us to be twin mum friends, we both have two; we understand what it is like,” Tarryn said. “We understand all the different issues like time management, and what to prioritise.” “It is the best thing in the world, we would not change a thing,” said Michael. These friends and little families enjoy the highs and lows of parenting twins in tandem. Navigating returning to work for Tarryn and Katie was made so much easier; Katie is with the children while Tarryn works, and Tarryn returns the favour when Katie is working. Brock, Michael and Tarryn’s three-year old son, is head over heels with his little sisters. Michael and Tarryn are justifiably proud of him and his wonderful nature, especially as the past 12 months or so have been a big adjustment for him. “Over the last 12 months Brock has gone from being the only grandchild to being one of four grandchildren,” Michael said smiling. As any parent knows, going from only child to big brother can also be a big change in lifestyle for any young child. Theodore and Lincoln, 5 and 7, Katie and Joshua’s older sons, are enamoured with their twin siblings, and are active big brothers. “They wanted to have a little brother or sister,” Katie said. “They were so excited; I think the only thing that took a little adapting for them was there were two babies.” Both mothers say they both feel a little stretched at time, ensuring all children get attention and love, but as any parent can confirm, parents always worry they won’t have enough to go around. In this little village it is abundantly clear there is not a child who doesn’t know how loved or cared for they are. “Every aspect of life with twins is definitely different,” said Michael. “If you are bathing one child you just take them into the bathroom and get it done. “Whereas with twins you have to be well coordinated, and be aware of things, such as wrangling two children at once, with a wet bathroom floor. “Everything is well thought out and has a set routine.” They are always working in tandem. If Michael is bathing the children, Tarryn is packing the dishwasher, cleaning bottles or getting other essential tasks done and vice versa. When Katie is there, she will look after the babies, Michael will sort out the older children’s bedtime preparation and routine while Tarryn is getting the tasks done. “It is chaotic but it works,” they said. “When you are on your own, four is a lot, but when we are working as a team, seven is so much easier.” As Hay is so remote, when a trip away for shopping or appointments is necessary, one parent will stay at home and be with the children while another makes the trip away. To see these little families, self-described as their little village, together, is actual magic. The children benefit from different skills, interests and nurturing. “When I cook, I like to do it myself, I have no patience when it comes to cooking with children,” Katie laughed. “Tarryn will say, let’s bake a cake or cook something and I am really happy they do that together.” “I love cooking. One time we made pasta and there was flour from top to bottom but you could see on Lincoln’s face he was having the time of his life, it was great,” Tarryn said. Michael is very hands-on and good with the older children, involving them in many parts of daily life, including getting them all outside to feed the chickens. “Theo cooked sausages on the barbecue with Michael the other day, he asked if he could cook too,” said Katie. Katie is quite adaptable, as is Tarryn, both hands-on mums and quick to step in and take care of whatever needs to be done, or whatever baby needs attention at any particular moment. As Katie’s partner Josh is away working a good deal of the time, Katie is somewhat of a solo parent during the week. When Josh comes home on the weekends, he is just like Michael, very hands-on. It is an attribute which Katie values and admires, noting he is just like her late father, who was always doting and highly involved in her life. “He has the same qualities, and was what I always hoped for in a partner,” she said. “He hates fishing, but will suck it up and do it regularly as Lincoln really loves fishing. “If we need to go somewhere, there have been times where we have left all four of the twins home with Josh, for eight or nine hours and he has been in his element.” “Absolutely,” Tarryn agreed. “I came home the last time and he was so chill and relaxed, I said you really make this look easy.” “It is chaotic but it works,” they said. “When you are on your own, four is a lot, but when we are working as a team, seven is so much easier.” The little village has bought a quad pram, to make transportation easier for their tandem twins. None of the parents mind the hectic nature of life, and they all make it look like a breeze. Times can be difficult though, as any parent could attest. “The last couple of months have been hard, someone always seems to be sick, we have all taken a turn,” said Tarryn. “I have had pneumonia recently, and Michael was quite sick, and it was wonderful to have Katie around to pick up the pieces.” Life with twins definitely has its challenges.“There is no twin trolley at the supermarkets in town,” Tarryn said. “This can make shopping with twins and a toddler hard. ‘I usually aim to meet Michael at the supermarket, and he will carry around Brock and I will navigate the twins or vice versa. “Or I will walk down with the pram, fill it up and go, but you don’t have a lot of storage space in a pram.” Tarryn participated in twin classes before Myra and Evelyn were born, and also connected with a twin mother’s group in Wagga. However, staying connected had its challenges from three hours away. “Michael’s parents and family are so wonderful but they all work, and have busy lives and businesses to run,” Taryn said. “There are very little resources in town to accommodate twins, which is natural considering it is a small remote rural town.” Also, going to a playgroup is something both Katie and Tarryn can find difficult, but manage when they can. “Sometimes it is much easier to walk wherever you need to go,” they said. “Once you get the children into the car, the pram in the car, in this time one or more babies may have become unsettled and need soothing, it is quicker to get everyone in the pram and go.” The preparation which goes into day-to day life is significant. The parents have 26 bottles each, stock up on formula, buying four tins at a time. Tins of formula last two days if that, and a box of nappies and a box of wipes have about the same shelf life. Washing is perpetually coming out of their ears, and shopping bills are quite hefty. “To eat normal food, nutritious food, the grocery shop is costly,” said Tarryn. “Blueberries, strawberries and good food is necessary but you notice the difference.” It is so clear the joy and fulfilment greatly outweigh the challenges. It is indescribably endearing to see these wonderfully capable parents and little village come together to raise their gorgeous children. A happy and well-rounded first years of a child’s life can not only have a pivotal impact on who they are, but a positive shot at early motherhood/parenthood can shape the lives of the parents as well. Congratulations to you all, you should be really proud of this life you have created, and the amazing friendship.

Jeremiah ‘Jayo’ Rivers was a talented AFL player, who moved from the Northern Territory to Balranald, to play with the Balranald Roos. After making friends in town, Jayo, a fellow NT-based footy mate, a local Balranald man and four men from Victoria left Balranald on a hunting trip. It was Saturday, October 16, 2021, so Covid 19 border restrictions were in place, which the hunting party say was why their stories became confused. In two vehicles, the group of seven headed to Wilcannia, where one man sought treatment at the hospital in the early hours of October 17. Jayo was recorded in CCTV in White Cliffs just before 11am the same morning, limping, in bare feet. It is estimated the group quietly entered Queensland through the isolated Wompah Gate around 4am on October 18, after cutting the lock on the chained border. The group say they set up camp at Wippo Creek, and the last photograph of Jayo was taken around 8.30am that day. According to the evidence given by his travelling companions at his 2023 coronial inquest, Jayo walked away from the camp, either chasing a pig, or to look for somewhere to take a swim. It was Monday. Wippo Creek is about 40 kilometres from the tiny out back town of Noccundra – population 16. On Monday evening two of the men drove to Noccundra and purchased meals for the group, but did not report Jayo as missing. On Tuesday morning, October 19, the two men returned to Noccundra to fuel their vehicle and it was then that they first mentioned Jayo as missing, to local police. The pair did not share that they were part of a larger group, and the second vehicle departed separately. Once the alarm was raised, Police launched an extensive land, air, and water search from for eight days, using vehicles, planes, and even a gyrocopter. As well as the official efforts, Jayo’s family arrived from Western Australia and the Northern Territory, and searched the harsh terrain for months. In May 2024, Queensland Police restarted a 16-day search north west of Noccundra, based on new but undisclosed information. Despite all these searches, no trace of Jayo, has ever been found. In October 2024, Coroner Donald MacKenzie ruled that Jayo was likely dead and probably met with foul play, but his heartbroken family still has no answers. Victorian man Scott Neven was on a pig hunting trip in October 2002, when he was last seen 40 kilometres from Ivanhoe. Broken Hill police say the 31-year-old Victorian was in a car with two friends when a fight erupted. The witnesses told police that Scott got out of the vehicle, crawled under a fence and ran off into the paddock. He has not been seen since Friday 11, October 2002. An inquest held in July 2006 by the Deputy State Coroner found that Mr Neven died on or about 12 October 2002. As no trace of Mr Neven has been found since, the Coroner could not make any findings over the precise place, date, manner or cause of death. The Coroner did rule that Mr Neven met with foul play. In 2025, the NSW Government offered $100,000 reward for information into the disappearance of Scott Neven, and for information leading to the arrest of Mr Neven's killer. On Tuesday January 2, 2001, Clifford Parker, left "Hazelwood Station" located on the Sturt Highway near Balranald. Clifford took with him a small grey and blue backpack and a swag marked "Hazelwood" on it. It is believed Clifford took his dogs with him, but neither Clifford nor his dogs have been seen since this date. If you have any information into the disappearance of Jeremiah Rivers, Scott Neven or Clifford Parker please contact Crime Stoppers 1800 333 000. The Riverine Grazier would also like to hear from anyone who knew any of these men, and is open to anonymous contact [email protected]

Margaret Pack was born in approximately 1885. Her mother, Maria Yew, passed away at age 35 on September 24, 1895. Margaret was thought to have Cantonese, Scottish and some French heritage. Margaret and Ah Pack settled in Hay. Ah Pack’s older brother had come into Melbourne from China. He loved the new country so he ventured back to China to bring Ah and their brothers to Australia together. The brothers travelled towards Balranald in search of work. Ah found work as a gardener on a station. His brother continued on in his search for work and sadly, the brothers never saw each other again. Years later a member of the Pack clan would report that Ah Pack’s brother was settled up on the NSW North Coast and had family there.Ah also grew vegetables to supplement his gardeners’ wages, and sold fresh grown vegetables to nearby stations. Ah and Margaret had 18 children, Florrie, Eileen, Harold, Lindsay, Grace, Olive, Amy, Joyce, Anzac, Hazel, Percy, Jacky, Kathleen, Ruth, Alec, Isabel and Iris, and Eric. This was not common for the times, and one of their neighbours in Hay had a similarly sized family.Iris and Isabel were twins, but the remainder were single births. Anzac was born on Anzac Day in 1915. Joyce was born in 1913. Olive married an Englishman Tom Hey, and settled in Hay.Jackie became an infantryman in the Second World War and was featured in the paper. Many of the children had a strong affinity with the land, with Anzac growing cotton near Narrandera, Jackie and Lindsay also ending up on the land. Life would have been tough through the depression, two world wars and the harshness and vagaries of the outback Australian weather. The youngest child Eric died aged seven months, on January 2, 1928.Alec was one of the last remaining of the children, and remined in Hay until just before his passing. Alec worked as a shearer for 35 years, the best times of his life. Alec would work at the station for the Rees family for many years and learn a lot from all the things he got to do at Daisy Plains. Rees paid him well, bought him clothes and provided meat for his family, and Alec was a valuable and loyal worker, thankful for the opportunities.As well as working for the Rees, Alec also travelled around as a shearer, starting as a younger man under the wing of his brother Anzac. He became very accomplished in his own right and at his peak could get through more than 200 full size sheep in a single day. Hard work, shearing paid well for the times. He was often up at 5:30AM eating a quick lamb chop and a slice of bread as he walked from the workers hut to the shearing shed. Working all morning then a short break from the shearing for a minimal lunch before settling in to finish the day's work around 5PM. Dinner was the main meal of the day, with workers eating well to prepare for the next day. Alec recalled ten hungry shearers eating five legs of mutton between them.Both Ah Pack and Margaret died when the youngest children were still quite small. Alec's only memory of his mother was her sitting in a chair at home and he as a toddler pulling himself to his feet using his mother’s seated knee for balance. His last memory of his father was when he was sick and in his sixties at home. Alec and Jacky were quarrelling over matches and both received punishment from Ah Peck to stop their argument.Margaret passed at 43 years of age on June 22, 1928. Ah Pack passed two years later aged 65 on 24th November 1930. There is a small headstone memorial in Hay Cemetery for Margaret.Ah Pack was not mentioned by name, but as Margarets husband, and also their youngest son Eric, who died as an infant. Henry and JoyceHenry Huie James was born in 1907 in Canton province. He ventured to Melbourne in the 1920s at 20 on a merchant boat, jumped ship and met up with his brother. He had a Chinese name, Huie, and no English comprehension. Henry and his brother separated after leaving Melbourne and never reunited. Henry saved money and bought a motor bike. He created a book in Chinese characters that he used to teach himself English. He had the special brushes needed for the proper formation of the characters and could write Chinese characters well. He was very literate in Chinese and had attained a good education.Henry did not talk much about his earlier life, most likely out of concern that his illegal immigration would come to light, with even Joyce not knowing much about his early years.Joyce Roseana You Pack lived in Hay and helped care for her younger siblings. With a strong sense of duty Joyce was a member of the Salvation Army and active in the local community.The Hay area went through a period of growth from the 1850s onwards. There was a small Chinese community centred around Sturt Place in Hay, close to the Pack residence that was believed to have come to Hay seeking opportunities after the initial gold rush was over.In Hay, Henry met Joyce Pack, one of eleven daughters, in one of the large Pack clans in Hay. When talking to Alec he said that Joyce was one of the best of the children.Henry and Joyce were married, and settled on a small property on the outskirts of South Hay. The house was to the south end of the multi-acre lot with north end of the property backing onto the Murrumbidgee River. Henry was able to show his business skills and adaptability by creating a successful market garden at the site. The access to plentiful water would have helped but he was able to change from being a tailor to being a farmer. He grew vegetables which were taken into Lachlan St the main street of Hay to sell, and business proved to be vastly successful. Allan, their first child was born on March 14, 1937, lived on the property in Hay and began school there. Allan would ride his bike from South Hay to the school across the river. After a time, Henry and Joyce decided to relocate to Sydney for Allan’s education. They moved to 75 George Street terrace in Sydney's Main Street, renting a house from the Maritime Services Board. Henry would later try to buy the property but that never happened, but it remained the family home until his retirement in the 70’s.In Sydney another son, Roger Henry James was born in 1947. Devastatingly, he died from meningitis at eight months old. In 1948, their daughter Roslyn was born.Henry had started a laundry and dry-cleaning business upon arrival in Sydney. Having had a knowledge of clothing from his earlier life would have helped but he was able to cater to the business community in Sydney with his new enterprise. Business men would bring in their laundry where it was then professionally done and nicely packaged up for them to take home. Henry’s business was featured in Pix magazine, which was as popular then as People magazine is today. Joyce and Henry remained in George Street for many years, enjoying life with the large extended family they created. Henry retired 1974. He and Joyce moved from their George St terrace to an apartment in Top Ryde, within walking distance from the Top Ryde shopping Centre. Henry was eligible to get a pension but did not pursue one, as he was in the country illegally and was concerned about deportation.  Henry had never disclosed much of this with Joyce, despite their years together. Regardless of this, he voted, paid taxes and enlisted in the Royal Australian Navy at the end of the Second World War. Allan eventually Finally, Allan contacted someone he knew in immigration, who organised a private naturalisation ceremony, and thus Henry was an official citizen. Joyce and Henry both died in 1980. Joyce from a stroke. Henry found life a struggle after Joyce's passing, and passed himself several months later. They along with Roger Henry are buried at Botany cemetery in the Church of England section.

In the scorching heart of far western New South Wales, where summer temperatures routinely exceed 40 degrees celsius, the residents of White Cliffs have mastered the art of beating the heat in the most unconventional way imaginable. They live underground. Around 100 dugout homes remain in use throughout this remote opal mining town, carved into ancient hillsides by miners who, in the 1890s, discovered that the earth itself offered the perfect escape from the relentless outback sun. Today, these subterranean dwellings maintain a constant, comfortable 22 degrees year round, naturally insulated from both the harsh summer heat and the occasional winter chill. The town's population of just 150 people has created something truly unique in Australian settlement. Unlike anywhere else in the country, the majority of White Cliffs residents have chosen to make their homes beneath the surface, transforming old mining shafts and tunnels into comfortable, modern living spaces that would astound any first time visitor. Cree Marshall and Lindsay White offer tours of their beautifully carved underground residence, located beside the Red Earth Opal Cafe. For ten dollars, visitors can step into a world that seems almost impossible, wandering through progressively renovated rooms that the couple has transformed into a remarkable subterranean dwelling. The home showcases what's possible when creativity meets necessity, with carved archways, comfortable living spaces, and all the amenities of any modern home, simply located beneath several metres of solid rock. The 100 million year old sandstone conglomerate in which these homes are carved carries two significant advantages that made White Cliffs' unique living arrangement possible. First, the rock is remarkably stable. In over a century of underground dwelling, no one has ever died from a mine collapse in White Cliffs. Second, the sandstone is relatively easy to dig, allowing miners and residents to excavate living spaces without industrial equipment. The White Cliffs Underground Motel represents the largest example of this architectural phenomenon. With 48 subterranean rooms, it stands as the biggest dugout motel in the world. Located on a mesa locally known as Poor Man's Hill, so named for its lack of opal, the motel has welcomed travellers since 1989. Guests descend into a maze of passageways that lead to comfortable rooms, all maintaining that perfect 22 degree temperature regardless of conditions above ground. The motel features a unique stairway to heaven, a passage that leads guests up to a star gazing room on the surface. Here, visitors can witness the brilliant night sky and enjoy vast sunsets and sunrises that paint the outback landscape in extraordinary colours, far removed from any urban light pollution. From above ground, White Cliffs appears almost otherworldly. The landscape is littered with around 50,000 disused diggings, creating a moonscape terrain of white dirt mounds that encircle old mine shafts. This distinctive topography, combined with the lack of ordinary buildings, gives the town the appearance of an alien settlement that has landed on the desert plains. The underground lifestyle extends beyond mere accommodation. The town has carved out community spaces, workshops, and even display areas for the precious opals that brought miners to this remote corner of Australia in the first place. Some dugouts house opal showrooms where miners sell the gems they've extracted from the earth around them, continuing a tradition that began in the late 1880s. For those considering whether underground living could work in modern Australia, White Cliffs provides a compelling answer. Residents report lower energy costs, no need for air conditioning or heating, and a lifestyle that, while unconventional, offers genuine comfort and sustainability. The constant temperature means no fluctuating power bills, no reliance on external cooling or heating systems, and a living space that remains comfortable through the most extreme weather conditions. White Cliffs stands as a testament to human adaptability and ingenuity. In one of Australia's harshest environments, a community has thrived by embracing what the landscape offered rather than fighting against it. Their underground homes represent not just shelter, but a unique Australian architectural heritage that deserves recognition and preservation.

Walk into Royal Adelaide Hospital's emergency department on any given day and you'll find a chaotic but functioning system. The wait might be 30 minutes. There are specialists on site. Advanced diagnostic equipment hums in the background. Ambulances queue at the door. Now picture Wilcannia. The Multipurpose Service there technically provides 24-hour emergency care. But as of November 2025, if you present between 7pm and 7am, you must first call ahead. Staff will decide whether to come in. The doors aren't always open.This is the reality of Australia's two-tiered emergency care system, and it's crucial to understand from the outset that our dedicated doctors, nurses, and healthcare workers are not the problem. They are the heroes holding a fractured system together through sheer determination and professionalism. What's failing isn't the quality of our medical professionals but the system that asks them to do the impossible with inadequate resources, chronic understaffing, and policy settings that haven't kept pace with demand. Every statistic about wait times and bed shortages represents healthcare workers fighting against overwhelming odds to provide care they know Australians deserve.If you've felt like emergency department waits are getting longer in cities, you're not imagining it. The data confirms what millions of Australians already know from painful personal experience. In 2024-25, there were 9.1 million emergency presentations to public hospitals across Australia. Half of all patients were seen within 18 minutes, which sounds reasonable until you realise that overall, only 67 per cent of patients were seen within the recommended time for their triage category. Perhaps most troubling is that for patients requiring admission to hospital, wait times have exploded. The time in which 90 per cent of these patients complete their emergency department visit has increased by over 6.5 hours in recent years, from 11 hours and 43 minutes in 2018-19 to a staggering 18 hours and 23 minutes in 2022-23. Let that sink in: nearly a full day in an emergency department before being admitted to a hospital bed.While city hospitals grapple with overcrowding, rural Australia faces a fundamentally different problem. Emergency departments barely function or don't exist at all in many communities. Wilcannia's situation exemplifies the crisis. The temporary change to after-hours access, requiring patients to call ahead between 7pm and 7am, will remain in place until at least 31 January 2026. NSW Health frames this as ensuring patients receive safe care during the summer holiday period. The reality is simpler and more stark: there aren't enough staff to keep the doors open around the clock. And Wilcannia isn't alone. Across rural and remote Australia, more than 400 hospital-based emergency care facilities serve communities, managing over one third of Australia's emergency presentations. But staffing shortages are catastrophic, as high as 85 per cent for specialist trainee roles, 66 per cent for junior medical officer positions, and 22 per cent for senior decision-making roles in rural and remote emergency departments.Small rural towns suffer the most. Research from the University of Wollongong found that the greatest workforce shortfalls aren't in the most remote areas but in small rural towns. These communities have three times fewer doctors per capita than metropolitan areas, and twice as few nurses and allied health workers. The nurses and doctors who do work in these communities are performing miracles daily, often managing complex cases without the backup and resources their metropolitan colleagues take for granted. They're making clinical decisions in isolation, covering multiple roles simultaneously, and working extended hours because there's simply no one else to share the load.Emergency departments operate on a five-category triage system that determines how quickly you need to be seen. Resuscitation means immediate care for life-threatening conditions, and almost all these patients are seen instantly. Emergency category means care within 10 minutes for imminently life-threatening conditions, though only 64 per cent are seen on time. Urgent means within 30 minutes for potentially life-threatening situations. Semi-urgent means within 60 minutes for conditions requiring medical attention but not immediately life-threatening. Non-urgent means within 120 minutes for minor illnesses or injuries. The system works well for the most critical cases. The problem is for everyone else, and everyone else constitutes the vast majority of presentations.But in rural areas, this sophisticated triage system often becomes meaningless. Over 60 per cent of small rural hospitals have only on-call doctors, not staff physically present in the facility. Nurses frequently must assess and manage patients without onsite medical backup, making split-second decisions that would have a team of specialists consulting in a metropolitan hospital. These rural nurses demonstrate extraordinary clinical judgement and courage, but they shouldn't have to work in such isolation. Radiology and pathology services may only be available during business hours, if at all, meaning even routine investigations can't be performed when emergencies happen overnight.The workforce crisis manifests differently depending on where you live. In metropolitan hospitals, the challenge is managing volume. Liverpool Emergency Department in Sydney receives more than 90,000 presentations annually. Despite impressive recent improvements, halving average treatment time for emergency patients from 18 to 9 minutes, the sheer numbers create relentless pressure on staff who are already working at capacity. These healthcare workers are achieving remarkable results not because the system supports them adequately but because they refuse to let patients down despite overwhelming circumstances.In rural areas, it's about basic coverage. Australian rural emergency care facilities don't always have 24-hour medical cover, emergency specialist involvement, or onsite diagnostic resources that are mandated for accredited emergency departments in cities. Rural generalists and international medical graduates form the predominant medical workforce, and there simply aren't enough of them. The Australian College for Emergency Medicine's data shows that emergency medical staff in regional areas manage a greater volume of presentations per full-time doctor compared to their metropolitan peers. In large metropolitan hospitals, the ratio is one doctor to 1,062 patient visits. In small and medium regional hospitals, it's one to 1,736. Those rural doctors are seeing nearly two thirds more patients each, and they're doing so with fewer resources and less specialist backup.One of the biggest threats to emergency department function is bed block, when patients stay in hospital beyond their expected discharge date because appropriate care isn't available elsewhere. In NSW alone, 1,151 patients were stuck waiting in hospitals for federally funded aged care or NDIS support in the September quarter of 2025, an increase of 54 per cent over the previous year. Dr Peter Allely, president of the Australian College of Emergency Medicine, minces no words about the consequences for metropolitan EDs: when every bed in emergency is occupied by patients who should already be on a ward, the next person who needs urgent care can't be seen safely. This isn't a failure of hospital staff but of the broader health and aged care system that leaves hospitals holding responsibility for patients who need different care settings.For rural hospitals, bed block creates a different crisis. Small facilities lack the capacity to hold multiple patients awaiting transfer or discharge. A single patient blocking a bed can effectively shut down emergency capacity for an entire region. Rural patients are more likely to have extended stays in emergency departments awaiting inpatient care than those in metro hospitals, leading to poorer outcomes through no fault of the dedicated staff caring for them.In metropolitan areas, if one emergency department is overwhelmed, ambulances can divert to another facility 15 to 20 minutes away. This mobility doesn't exist in rural Australia. From Wilcannia, the nearest alternative emergency department is in Menindee, 36 kilometres away. The next closest is Broken Hill, 216 kilometres distant. For someone experiencing a medical emergency at 2am, those distances can mean the difference between life and death. Many rural residents are forced to travel vast distances to access diagnostic services, specialist care, and treatment. This requires leaving behind family and community support networks, along with substantial time and expense for travel and accommodation.Behind the statistics is a bitter political dispute between federal and state governments over who's responsible for the crisis, while the healthcare workers caught in the middle continue providing care regardless of which government is technically responsible for funding it. State health ministers point to the surge in Commonwealth bed block, patients waiting for federally funded aged care or NDIS support. NSW Health Minister Ryan Park has been blunt about the serious consequences for our state hospitals, from wards to surgeries that can't be conducted to people waiting for beds in the emergency department. Federal Health Minister Mark Butler counters that urgent care clinics are making a difference and that the government is working towards a comprehensive National Health Reform Agreement. Dr Allely's perspective cuts through the political positioning: state and federal governments need to come together to get to the core of the problem. Meanwhile, rural hospitals and their communities are largely absent from this debate. The problems facing Wilcannia or similar small towns don't fit neatly into urban-centric political discussions about bed block and ambulance ramping.The federal government's flagship response has been rolling out Medicare Urgent Care Clinics, now 87 nationwide with 50 more planned. These bulk-billed facilities handle urgent but non-life-threatening conditions, and more than 1.2 million Australians have used them. The government touts their success in reducing emergency department pressure, but the evidence is nuanced and the model is almost entirely urban-focused. While one million urgent care clinic visits sounds impressive, context matters. There were 9 million emergency department presentations in 2023-24. Even if every visit prevented an ED presentation, which isn't necessarily the case, it represents only about 11 per cent of total demand. More critically, urgent care clinics offer little to rural Australians. The model requires sufficient population density to be viable and competes with general practices for the same scarce pool of GPs and nurses. The Mount Gambier urgent care clinic recently went into liquidation amid staff shortages, a cautionary tale for rural areas already struggling with workforce.Despite system-wide pressure, some metropolitan hospitals have achieved remarkable improvements through the dedication and innovation of their staff combined with targeted support. In NSW, Liverpool ED halved average treatment time for emergency patients from 18 to 9 minutes over the past year through the extraordinary efforts of their team. Westmead ED reduced similar times by over a third. Nepean ED increased the percentage of patients transferred from paramedics to ED staff on time from 65.1 to 82.2 per cent. These successes show what's possible when healthcare workers receive adequate resources and support. NSW has invested $31.4 million in Hospital in the Home programmes, allowing over 3,500 additional patients annually to be cared for at home rather than occupying beds. The $15.1 million Ambulance Matrix provides real-time hospital data to paramedics for better patient distribution. Such sophisticated systems are impossible to replicate in places like Wilcannia, where the challenge isn't optimising patient flow but simply having staff available.Underneath all policy debates lies a fundamental problem: workforce shortages affecting all of Australian healthcare. By 2025, Australia faces a shortage of 100,000 nurses. Small rural towns have the lowest number of nurses and allied health care workers per capita. The maldistribution worsens with remoteness, and healthcare worker shortages are notably more severe in regional Australia, where 21 occupations are exclusively in shortage. The government has announced additional funding to train more GPs and nurses, but training takes years. Today's shortages reflect decisions made or not made a decade ago. Meanwhile, universities like Wollongong are making a difference. UOW medical graduates are 50 per cent more likely to work in regional or rural areas than graduates from other medical schools, with nearly a third working in rural areas within 10 years of graduating. But even this success story can't bridge the massive gap fast enough.Wilcannia's after-hours model, call first and staff might come, represents a middle ground between full service and complete closure. But across Australia and globally, the trend towards rural emergency department closures is accelerating. The viability of many rural hospitals is uncertain. There's a serious threat to rural after-hours, urgent, and emergency care due to lack of investment and critical health resources. Some facilities have been forced to make the impossible choice: provide unsafe care with inadequate staffing or limit services and leave communities exposed. Healthcare services in rural and regional areas across Australia are facing ongoing challenges in health worker recruitment, as Wilcannia's temporary change to after-hours access explicitly acknowledges.Both Australia and New Zealand's public health systems are funded and delivered on the basis of universal access to healthcare, regardless of location. In practice, this principle has not delivered equity. Rural residents have poorer health and shorter lives than those in urban areas. The data shows stark health inequities according to geographic location. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, who make up a significant proportion of many rural communities, face compounded disadvantages. Rural communities have considerably higher rates of emergency department utilisation and hospitalisation than urban peers, not because they're choosing emergency care over primary care but because emergency departments are often the only healthcare available, particularly after hours.For metropolitan residents, the advice is familiar. Use alternatives when appropriate, considering your GP, urgent care clinics, or telehealth for non-emergencies. Understand that triage means long waits often indicate others need care more urgently, the system working as intended. Be prepared by bringing medications, medical history, and something to occupy your time. For rural residents, the advice rings hollow. Alternative services often don't exist. The nearest GP might be 100 kilometres away. Telehealth requires reliable internet, far from universal in rural areas. And being prepared for a wait assumes the emergency department is actually staffed when you arrive.Multiple approaches are needed, recognising that metropolitan and rural challenges differ fundamentally. For metropolitan areas, we need expanded hospital capacity with more beds and staff, improved patient flow through Hospital in the Home programmes, better discharge planning to prevent bed block, coordinated federal and state responsibilities on aged care and NDIS, and continued innovative programmes that have shown results. For rural areas, we need sustainable funding models that recognise the economics of rural healthcare, targeted workforce recruitment and retention incentives, investment in rural medical training with explicit rural placement outcomes, technology solutions like telehealth backed by reliable infrastructure, community-based models that leverage local strengths, and recognition that rural facilities need different standards appropriate to their context. The Australian College for Emergency Medicine has launched a Rural Health Action Plan providing strategic vision for strengthening emergency medicine in rural areas, focusing on workforce, research, collaboration, and service provision.Australia's emergency departments are simultaneously performing heroics and struggling under unprecedented strain, but the nature of that struggle varies dramatically by location. Our medical professionals in metropolitan hospitals are working overtime, treating more patients than ever, achieving impressive results for the most critically ill through sheer determination and skill. Many have reduced wait times through innovative programmes and extraordinary dedication. Yet system-wide pressures continue to intensify, not because these healthcare workers aren't working hard enough but because the system itself is fundamentally under-resourced.Rural hospitals face an existential crisis. It's not about optimising patient flow or reducing ambulance ramping. It's about having staff present. It's about keeping doors open. It's about maintaining any emergency capability at all. The nurses and doctors who choose to work in rural Australia deserve our deepest respect and gratitude. They're providing care in circumstances that would break many people, often with minimal support and recognition.As NSW Health Minister Ryan Park cautioned while acknowledging metropolitan improvements, I don't want us to get ahead of ourselves because these figures, while encouraging, will fluctuate. Our EDs continue to grapple with record pressure and demand, and we mustn't forget that. For rural Australians, the pressure isn't just record-setting but potentially life-threatening. When the nearest alternative emergency department is over 200 kilometres away and your local facility requires calling ahead to see if staff are available, record pressure understates the severity.The fundamental question facing Australia's health system isn't whether it can survive. It's whether we're willing to give it the resources, workforce, and policy coordination it needs to thrive, and whether we're willing to recognise that rural Australia requires fundamentally different solutions than metropolitan areas. Until federal and state governments move beyond jurisdictional blame games, until rural healthcare gets the targeted investment it desperately needs, and until we acknowledge that universal healthcare access means different things in different places, the crisis will continue. Our healthcare workers will keep showing up, keep providing exceptional care, and keep holding the system together. The question is whether we care enough to give them the support they need before more rural emergency departments follow Wilcannia's path from 24-hour service to call-ahead only to closure.If you're experiencing a life-threatening emergency, always call 000. For urgent but non-life-threatening conditions in metropolitan areas, consider contacting your GP, an urgent care clinic, or telehealth services. For rural residents, check your local hospital's current operating hours and after-hours protocols, as these may have changed.

When Ray Charles Eade walked into the office, there was something familiar about his face. It wasn't until he mentioned his sister Dawn Matthews that the pieces fell into place. The youngest of 11 children, Ray carries the unmistakable features of his family, particularly resembling his mother and his sister Dawn. At 75 years old, Ray has plenty of stories to tell, and he’s generous with them. His life began in rather dramatic fashion, born on a sulky travelling to the maternity home in Lachlan Street in June 1950. His mother couldn't wait any longer, and Ray made his entrance to the world on the buckboard of the horse-drawn carriage. It's the kind of beginning that seems to have set the tone for an adventurous life. Growing up as the baby of such a large family had its challenges. By the time Ray came along, his mother had run out of names. In a wonderfully practical solution, she named him after household appliances; Ray from the Rayburn wood stove and Charles from the Charles Hope fridge. It’s an origin story Ray shares with good humour and warmth. The Eade family lived at Willow Tree Farm on the Thorne Road, about four or five kilometres out of Hay. Life on the farm was busy, particularly for Ray's father, who had three mail runs throughout the district from the early 60s until 1970. The Gunbar run, the West Burrabogie or Balranald run, and the Jerilderie run kept his father occupied five days a week. Young Ray often helped on these runs, particularly around the Gunbar route, which featured an exhausting 168 gates. He joked that he never wants to see another gate in his life. The family moved in 1965 when Ray’s father sold Willow Tree Farm and purchased a property on the Booligal Road. Ray was about 15 at the time. His first job came with Hay Shire, earning forty dollars a week, or one dollar an hour. With his wages, he bought his first car from Harold Wilder's Motors, a 1958 Morris 1000 for one hundred dollars. That little car served him well for years, delivering an impressive fifty miles to the gallon. At seventeen, in 1967, Ray headed north to Daisy Plains, about eighty miles from Hay and thirty miles north of Booligal. He worked there for three years until tragedy struck when his brother Neville had a significant accident with a slasher in early 1970. Ray was pulled from his job at Daisy Plains to help run the family farm in the irrigation area. He never received a cent for his work, and later that year, in October, his father died of a heart attack at age 61. Ray was just 20 years old. After his father’s death, the family farm was sold. Ray and his brother Robin briefly ran the Undercut Butchery in Hay, purchased from Jeff and Betty Pocock. But butchery wasn’t Ray’s calling. He wanted to travel, and soon found work at Dunlop Station at Louth on the Darling River. Dunlop Station was enormous; one million acres with 91 stands in the shearing shed and up to 60,000 sheep. Ray became the main contract musterer for the entire property. Some paddocks were 30,000 acres, and Ray would head out with five horses, five dogs, a truck and a horse float to his camp in the middle of the property, where he’d sleep in the horse float. He worked alone, never wearing a watch, relying instead on landmarks and the position of the sun. His dogs were specially trained to jump up on the back of his horse and to respond to different whistle commands rather than voice. It was demanding, isolated work, but Ray loved it. It was at Louth that Ray met the love of his life. Among three eligible young women in town, he chose one who would become his wife. They married and shared 42 wonderful years together before she died ten and a half years ago. The loss devastated him. Even now, Ray visits the cemetery every month, taking flowers to her grave. The couple had three children, Robert, now 51, Lesley, 45, and Susan, 41. After marrying, they moved to Narrabri, where Ray worked for Auscott, the cotton company, for seven or eight years. They lived in Narrabri for 18 years before moving to Wellington, where Ray has now been for 34 years. Throughout this time, he worked for various farmers, doing cattle work, sheep work and tractor work. Ray’s mother Alice lived to the grand age of 97 and a half, passing away in 2016. Whenever Ray and his wife visited, she would have cakes and biscuits freshly baked, delighted that her baby was coming home with the grandchildren. Ray still misses both his parents deeply. Music runs through the Eade family. Ray’s father was talented on the banjo and button accordion, whilst his mother played piano. Ray inherited this gift and still plays multiple instruments today, all by ear without reading music. The family gatherings at Christmas were f illed with music and laughter, with sometimes 50 people at the farm. Ray’s father also served in the Second World War, joining up twice. After being injured the first time and recovering at the Wagga base, he rejoined and served in the 16th garrison at the prisoner of war camp in Hay as a sergeant cook. Like many of his generation, Ray’s father didn’t talk much about his wartime experiences. The Eade family has deep roots in the district. Ray’s great great grandparents, George and Maryanne, walked thousands of kilometres from their property at Lilydale, north of Booligal, after migrating from England. There’s a harrowing story in the family history about one desperately hungry night when George, devastated but thinking of the only perceived option in a very hard time, suggested leaving their eldest child under a bush to die. Maryanne couldn’t bear it and, whilst George slept, went back for the baby. The next morning they milked their horse, an old mare that had lost its foal, to keep baby John alive. That child was Ray’s grandfather. The Eade name has a long history, with family crests dating back to 911. The family held a major reunion in 1988 at the Hay Showground, where 600 people with the Eade name, or married to an Eade, attended. Ray’s daughter Susan, just a few months old at the time, was one of the youngest there. Growing up in Hay, Ray attended school from the age of four, though his first day didn’t go well. Overwhelmed by the attention, he ran away and hid in berry bushes near the showground for two or three hours before his older sister Barbara found him. His father gave him a good belting for that escapade. Life in the irrigation area was different then. The giggle hall, a big community hall for irrigation area families, was a social hub where families would gather for cups of tea whilst children ran around the floor. Ray remembers catching yabbies in the irrigation channels for two shillings a bucket, which fishermen from town would collect. The channels are all gone now, replaced by underground pipelines, and Ray joked that you can’t go yabbying anymore. School days included getting two shillings to spend. Ray would buy a shilling’s worth of chips “Lately I keep being drawn back to Hay, thinking about coming home. “There’s something about Hay which always calls me; it is always home to me.” had a wonderful time. His children encourage him to return to Hay, to revisit his roots. from the Garden of Roses Cafe, a bottle of drink for sixpence, return the bottle for threepence back, and after school, spend the remaining threepence on a big single ice cream from Hill’s Corner. The Eade and Baird families, both living on Baird’s Lane, had an unspoken rule; no one in Hay was allowed to speak badly about the other family. If anyone did, they faced consequences. It was a mark of respect and community solidarity that Ray remembers fondly. Ray grew up playing with the Baird boys - Mervyn, Brian, Graham, Ray and Robin. Ray’s father was highly respected in the community, achieving the rank of Grand Primo in the Buffalo Lodge and receiving the chain of honour, the highest award possible. Ray now has this chain, which must be passed down through male descendants with the surname Eade.Though the family scattered after his father's death in 1970, with that glue that held them together gone, Ray maintains that he had a good childhood and no regrets. When asked if he enjoyed growing up in Hay, his answer is immediate and enthusiastic, immensely. Despite spending much of his working life elsewhere, from the vast paddocks of Dunlop Station to his decades in Wellington, Hay remains the place where it all began. And judging by the warmth and detail with which he recounts his stories, it’s clear that those early years on the farm, with his 10 siblings, hardworking parents, and tight knit community, shaped the man he became; resilient, good-humoured, and full of stories worth telling.

For the first time in Australian history, the census will include questions on sexual orientation and gender identity. Here's what changed, what stayed the same, and why it took a political firestorm to get here.When Australians complete their census forms in August 2026, they'll encounter something unprecedented: questions about sexual orientation and gender identity. It's a change that advocates have fought for over years, politicians have wrestled with for months, and one that promises to finally make visible communities that have long been invisible in national statistics. But the road to this historic inclusion has been anything but smooth.The story of these questions is a masterclass in political backflips and public pressure. Initially, the federal government resisted expanding gender and sexuality categories in the 2026 Census, citing concerns about sparking divisive debate. The decision drew immediate and fierce backlash from LGBTQIA+ groups, researchers, experts, and even members within the Labor Party itself. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese's position seemed to shift almost daily, one day committing to the change, the next walking it back. The Opposition Leader Peter Dutton questioned the Prime Minister's reliability, noting he appeared to be all over the shop on the issue.Eventually, after weeks of criticism and further engagement with the Australian Bureau of Statistics and community groups, the government reversed course. Assistant Treasury Minister Andrew Leigh confirmed the inclusion, stating that we value every Australian, regardless of their faith, race, gender or LGBTIQ+ status. The political drama revealed how contentious data collection itself has become, even when that data serves the fundamental purpose of understanding who Australians are and what they need.For Australians aged 16 and over, the 2026 Census will include two new questions. The gender identity question asks how a person currently identifies or expresses their gender, which may be different from sex at birth. The question includes tick-box options and a free-text field, along with a prefer not to answer option. The sexual orientation question asks about sexual identity and attraction, how an individual thinks of their own sexuality, the term they identify with, and their romantic or sexual attraction to others. It also includes response options and a don't know option for those uncertain or responding on behalf of others. These questions are voluntary, and the ABS has been clear that people will have the option not to answer.Notably absent is a question on variations of sex characteristics, commonly referred to as intersex status. Despite being considered by the ABS, extensive testing found that the question was too complex for the census format. Testing revealed limited understanding of the differences between questions on sex, gender, and sexual orientation. The challenges were particularly evident with people from different cultural and linguistic backgrounds. Expert opinion from members of the ABS's LGBTIQ+ Expert Advisory Committee indicated that further simplification would risk misinterpretation and increase misreporting. The ABS ultimately determined it could not collect high-quality data on this topic through the census. Anna Brown from advocacy group Equality Australia expressed disappointment, noting it's incredibly disappointing that intersex Australians remain excluded from comprehensive data collection. The ABS has committed to working with the intersex community to explore better ways of gathering this information through other surveys.The 2026 Census includes several other updates beyond gender and sexuality. The question on sex will now specifically ask about sex recorded at birth rather than just sex, to differentiate it from the new gender question. The online form initially presents Male and Female, with a link revealing a third option: Another term. Respondents can now report up to four ancestries instead of being limited to fewer options. Questions will reference bicycles including e-bikes to reflect contemporary travel modes. Non-gendered terms will be introduced for household relationships to be more inclusive. The census will now include questions on liver disease. The question on number of children a woman has given birth to will return to being collected only once per decade and won't appear in 2026.The inclusion of sexual orientation and gender questions isn't just symbolic but has profound practical implications. Currently, there's extremely limited information on Australia's LGBTQIA+ population. Previous attempts to estimate community size relied on indirect methods, like examining relationship status and the sex of partners in households. This approach completely misses people who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or use different terms and aren't in a household with a same-sex partner. Without comprehensive data, governments struggle to plan appropriate health services for LGBTQIA+ communities, develop targeted mental health support programmes, allocate funding for social services, understand disparities in housing, employment, or education, and track progress on equality and inclusion initiatives.As Georgia Chapman, the ABS's 2026 Census content director, noted, the Census provides some of Australia's most valuable statistics, and it's important that it reflects our contemporary society and captures emerging data needs. The statisticians, researchers, and public servants who have worked on developing these questions deserve recognition for their professionalism and dedication. The ABS staff navigated an incredibly complex task, balancing the need for accurate data with concerns about privacy, cultural sensitivity, and the practical realities of how Australians complete the census. They conducted extensive testing and consultation, refined questions based on feedback, and developed methodologies that respect both the need for information and individual autonomy.The ABS didn't arrive at these questions lightly. The testing programme included focus groups, short web surveys, and over 260 interviews conducted through September 2024. Research was conducted with 169 participants through focus groups and in-depth interviews, plus a sample survey of over 2,000 participants chosen to represent the Australian community. Key findings from testing showed broad understanding of the distinction between sex and gender, that the prefer not to answer response option and refinements to wording reduced concerns, strong understanding of sexual orientation questions, and similar comfort levels answering the sexual orientation question as the existing income question. Importantly, testing found that refinements to questions and the inclusion of opt-out options largely addressed concerns about the sensitive nature of the questions.One ongoing concern is privacy, particularly around answering questions with other household members present. The ABS acknowledges this as a legitimate consideration, especially for young people or those in situations where they're not out to family members. The inclusion of prefer not to answer options provides an escape hatch, though advocates note this isn't a perfect solution. Some LGBTQIA+ individuals may feel pressured to either lie or decline to answer if completing the census with family present.Unlike some census formats, one householder typically completes the Australian census on behalf of everyone in the household. This created design challenges for questions on gender and sexual orientation, as respondents might not know this information about other household members. The testing process and question design attempted to account for these scenarios, with options for don't know or prefer not to answer when responding on behalf of others. The challenge of household-level completion versus individual privacy reflects the broader tension between statistical efficiency and personal autonomy that the ABS navigated thoughtfully.The 2026 Census occurs at a moment when data collection itself has become politically contentious. The government's initial resistance and subsequent reversal highlighted tensions between data needs, political calculations, and community advocacy. Reverend Jo Inkpin, a transgender activist and Uniting Church Minister, captured the frustration many felt when she noted that by excluding people, they've created division themselves. The compromise reached, including sexual orientation and gender but not variations of sex characteristics, reflects both progress and ongoing limitations. For many in the LGBTQIA+ community, it's a significant step forward while simultaneously falling short of full inclusion.The final questions for the 2026 Census will be published on the ABS website in late 2025, following a large-scale test in August 2025. This test will ensure the questions achieve the best possible outcomes before being rolled out to the entire nation. The actual census will take place in August 2026, with every Australian household expected to participate. The data collected won't be available immediately but will be released progressively over the months following the census, providing government agencies, researchers, service providers, and communities with unprecedented insight into Australia's diversity.Whether the 2026 Census truly counts all Australians remains a matter of perspective. For many in the LGBTQIA+ community, the inclusion of sexual orientation and gender questions represents a historic milestone, formal recognition in the nation's most comprehensive statistical snapshot. For intersex Australians and their advocates, the census continues to render them invisible, despite promises of alternative data collection methods through other ABS surveys. What's undeniable is that the 2026 Census will provide unprecedented insight into the diversity of Australian society. For the first time, policymakers, researchers, and service providers will have comprehensive data on sexual orientation and gender identity across the entire population.The data collected will inform decisions on everything from healthcare planning to anti-discrimination measures, from housing policy to education programmes. It will shape how Australia understands itself and plans for its future for years to come. Perhaps most importantly, for LGBTQIA+ Australians who have long felt invisible in official statistics, the 2026 Census offers something powerful: the simple recognition that they exist, they count, and they matter. The statisticians, advocates, community members, and public servants who made this possible deserve our appreciation for their persistence, professionalism, and commitment to ensuring every Australian is seen in the nation's most important statistical exercise.The 2026 Census will be conducted in August 2026. All questions related to sexual orientation and gender identity are voluntary, with prefer not to answer options available.

So, you're sitting in a comfortable treatment room in Hay, finally getting that nagging shoulder pain looked at, when your myotherapist starts telling you about the time she managed 40 retail staff across seven shops, or her years working on cruise ships sailing through Alaska. This isn't your typical small-town career path, but then again, Liz Fattore has never been one to follow the typical path. The youngest of six children, Liz was born and raised right here in Hay, where she's recently returned after adventures that took her from the bustling streets of London to the red dust of Western Australia's mining towns. Now she's back where it all began, bringing with her a wealth of experience and a myotherapy practice that's helping locals manage everything from sports injuries to the complex challenges of conditions like fibromyalgia. "I loved my sport, that's what kept me at school," Liz laughed. "My daughter told me the other day that I still have a record at Hay High School, which is pretty special." There's a touch of pride in her voice, tempered by that characteristic Hay humility that never quite lets you boast too much about your achievements. It's ironic, she reflects, that despite her sporting prowess, her daughters have taken a different path. Life works in mysterious ways, she muses; where she was all about the physical, they're more academically inclined. At 19, Liz packed her bags and headed for England to work as an au pair. "I was very fortunate to get flown over there," she recalled. But what started as a young woman's adventure quickly turned into something more substantial. "After my au pair contract finished, I got into fashion retail," she said. Her sister had run a retail shop in Hay years earlier, and Liz drew on that experience as she found her feet in London's competitive retail world. "I did really well in selling, and the boss sent me to manage another store when the manager went on holiday." Success bred more success. "I did extremely well, and he offered me a permanent position. Then I opened up retail shops for him, showcasing mixed European brands," Liz said. Her natural ability to connect with people, honed perhaps by growing up in a community where everyone knows everyone, served her well in the anonymous bustle of London retail. The corporate world took notice. A company in Australia that held shares in her London employer sent a manager to observe operations. "I didn't know he was there, but I made him buy things to reach my target," Liz laughed. "He offered me a position to come back to Australia and open discount shops here." Back in Australia, Liz threw herself into a high-powered corporate lifestyle that would have been unimaginable to her teenage self, playing sport on Hay's dusty ovals. "I had a very city life, living in Sydney and f lying to Melbourne one week, Perth the following week." Managing 40 retail staff across seven shops demanded skills she'd never known she possessed. The girl who'd once been more interested in scoring goals than studying found herself navigating the complex world of retail management, staff rosters, and corporate targets. But after years of airport lounges and hotel rooms, something was missing. "Then I wanted to be free and single again, so I went to work on cruise ships," she said with a smile. For two years, Liz worked aboard P&O cruise ships, travelling throughout Europe and America, including the dramatic landscapes of Alaska. It was the kind of experience that feeds the soul but doesn't necessarily provide the grounding that eventually calls you home. "When I came back, I managed a restaurant here with my sister, at Shear Outback," she said. After years of corporate life and international travel, working alongside her sister provided something she hadn't realised she'd been missing. "We did an Italian restaurant together, which was grounding for me, and gave my sister a chance to show her passion for food," Liz recalled. The warmth in Liz's voice when she talks about her sister is unmistakable. "She's amazing - you go to her house and she has two ovens. She can look at anything and create a dish without even knowing the recipe." It's plainly obvious when hearing Liz speak about her sister how highly she regards her. "It was a great time, working with her. We had weddings there, and there's the history of the Shear Outback. We made money and were glad we had that opportunity. “Then I met my husband - it was all timing and destiny." Liz’s husband is a FIFO worker. He brought stability to Liz's adventurous life. Both their daughters, Elliana and Dania, were born in Wagga Wagga, and as the couple settled into family life, Liz began looking for a new direction. "Before I had children, I needed something to do. Do you remember Johnny and Nola Redenbach? Nola's daughter Katie was doing massage and suggested I try it. I loved sport, so it came naturally," she said. Katie's influence proved pivotal. "She influenced me, and it's true what they say about school friends; you have them for the rest of your life." What started as something to fill time while raising young children gradually evolved into a serious career path. "I started with massage and then got into myotherapy. As a therapist, you need to upgrade and keep your qualifications current. If you can't provide a receipt, it means you're not up to date with qualifications," Liz said. The commitment was substantial. Liz found herself travelling to Albury-Wodonga monthly, leaving her little ones behind to study myotherapy with Katie. It was an investment that would prove invaluable in the years to come. Myotherapy, Liz explains, occupies a unique space in the healthcare spectrum. "It's between a remedial massage therapist and a physiotherapist. We can help with rehabilitation, do dry needling and cupping - it's more of a physical treatment,” she said. "If you have a shoulder issue, we can treat it like a physio, but we can't diagnose. That's where we refer you to a physio for a proper diagnosis, then rehabilitation." we can work on The technical aspects of her work clearly energise her. "Myotherapy is amazing for conditions like f ibromyalgia. With dry needling, you're not pushing and hurting muscles that don't like to be touched,” she said. “Needling helps release tension without manual pressure. It can calm the nervous system too. People with MS have muscles that tighten, and dry needling helps those muscles relax without significant manipulation." Work opportunities took the family to Karratha in Western Australia, where Tim's logistics career flourished and the girls experienced a different side of Australia. "You'd wake up at 6 o'clock just to go to the horse yard, and within 15 minutes you'd be sweating," Liz laughs, remembering the intense heat of the Pilbara region. But Karratha offered unexpected gifts. "I loved it because it gave my kids the opportunity to understand Aboriginal culture. The people there were amazing. We learnt their customs, their protocols, how they survive." Her work in apprenticeship support opened her eyes to cultural practices she'd never encountered. "When I did apprenticeship support work, I learnt things like when they go to a funeral, you can't leave until the main person leaves - so you could be off work for weeks." For daughter Dania, these exchanges became deeply personal. cultural "Dania had beautiful First Nations friends who'd come for sleepovers, and we had to learn their ways. “They were used to sleeping as a family in one room and were initially scared to have sleepovers, so we really nurtured that. It was a wonderful learning experience." The landscape, too, left its mark. "The landscape was beautiful, but you can't buy blocks of land there - you lease equestrian and their options open. "We don't know what the future holds apprenticeship-wise, and there are so many opportunities there, so we're keeping that door open for the kids just in case." land, but can only buy a block to build a house." They had access to the ocean and could drive to waterholes and gorges, a stark contrast to the gentle riverine country of their Hay origins. Tim's work as a logistics truck driver meant navigating the massive road trains that dominate Pilbara highways. "He drives road trains with four trailers behind the truck. When I'd drive up there with horses for events and those trucks come past you, you concentrate on holding the lane and count one trailer, two trailers, three trailers, all right, we're clear." But as fulfilling as the Karratha years were professionally and culturally, family circumstances began to shift the balance. Both girls were struggling with the transition to high school in the mining town's intense environment. Liz's daughter developed a tics disorder, like Tourette's, from stress when transitioning from primary school to a big private college. "The poor little one had quite a challenge, and other issues came into play that we didn't initially realise," Liz said. "In Karratha we didn't get the extra private help with schooling that we needed. Here, even though we're regional and have to travel, we actually get more opportunities to look after our kids." The contrast was stark. "The best thing about moving back is that my kids actually enjoy waking up and going to school," she reflects. "In Karratha it was like a typical chaotic household with threats to call their father. I'm very grateful for the school's special needs classes, my daughter has really settled in well." Her daughter was at a pivotal age where these struggles could have turned her off school and learning altogether. "I'm very grateful we're back, and it's lovely to see familiar faces like Mrs Longworth at the school." The timing of their return proved poignant in another way. Liz was able to spend three precious months with her mother before she passed away, time she will forever treasure. "She was so gentle and placid, but if she had to speak up, she'd put people in their place. I'm glad she had her faculties right to the end," Liz said fondly. The adjustment from Karratha's intense heat to Hay's stark climate has been an ongoing process for the whole family. "When he comes back from Karratha, every old ache comes out," Liz says of Tim, who continues his FIFO work. "He says he never had pain up there, but when he flies back and it's 30 degrees, which is their winter, he really feels it." Even the animals need time to adjust. "My poor dogs look at me like 'please leave me inside,' and we have horses that are wondering where we've taken them. We're double-rugging them because they're used to the heat." The family maintains their connection to Western Australia, keeping their house there For now, though, Liz is focused on building her myotherapy practice in Hay. She briefly considered other options, including getting her motorbike licence for Australia Post deliveries, but decided to focus on the profession she's spent years perfecting. Understanding the unique needs of rural clients, Liz has structured her practice to be as accessible as possible. "I have a Facebook page, and there's an online link where they can book appointments through Clinico." But she also recognises that technology isn't everyone's preference. "I also give out my mobile number for people who might prefer to call rather than book online. “I don't mind if they text me either, and I tell them to text if the online booking shows I'm not available, because sometimes I block out time for other things but would prefer to look after my clients." Her schedule reflects the realities of rural life. "I try to do evenings up to 7 o'clock, which gives me daytime flexibility for personal tasks." This kind of flexibility, understanding that farm work doesn't stop at 5 pm, and people's lives don't always fit into neat appointment slots, is part of what makes rural healthcare work. From the sports fields of Hay High School to the cruise ships of Alaska, from London's retail floors to Karratha's red dust, Liz Fattore's journey has been anything but conventional. Yet there's something beautifully circular about her return to Hay, bringing with her decades of experience and a skill set that serves her community in ways her teenage self could never have imagined. "I think that covers everything," she says simply. "It's good to be back home in Hay." In those words lies the quiet satisfaction of someone who has seen the world, succeeded in various careers, and chosen to bring it all back to where it started. Her myotherapy practice represents more than just another business in town, it's the culmination of a life lived fully, with skills honed in boardrooms and cruise ships now applied to easing the aches and pains of neighbours and friends. For those dealing with chronic pain, sports injuries, or conditions like fibromyalgia, Liz's return represents something valuable; access to high-level healthcare delivered with the understanding that only comes from being part of the community. She's not just treating symptoms; she's caring for people she's known all her life, in the place that shaped her, using skills gathered from the wide world beyond. It's the kind of story that makes you appreciate the complex journeys that bring people home, and the gifts they carry with them when they return.

After three rate cuts in 2025, Australia's big banks are now split on what comes next. Some predict rate hikes as early as February. Here's what you need to know.Just when Australian families thought they could breathe easier after a year of rate cuts, the conversation has shifted dramatically. After the Reserve Bank of Australia cut rates three times throughout 2025, bringing the cash rate to 3.60 per cent, two of the big four banks are now predicting the unexpected; rate hikes in early 2026.It's a jarring turn that has left many homeowners wondering what happened to the promised relief.The major banks are currently split, with two predicting the cash rate will increase. Here's where they stand:Commonwealth Bank has revised its forecast and now expects a 0.25 percentage point hike in February, taking the rate to 3.85 per cent, where it would remain for the rest of 2026.National Australia Bank is even more hawkish, predicting two rate increases in 2026, one in February and another in May, adding a total of 50 basis points.ANZ and Westpac, however, expect the cash rate to remain steady at 3.60 per cent throughout their forecast horizons.Why the sudden change? The answer lies in one stubborn problem, inflation isn't cooperating.The key trimmed mean inflation measure rose to 3.0 per cent in the September quarter and is expected to stay above that level until well into 2026. Even more concerning, consumer price index data showed inflation climbing to 3.8 per cent in October, well above the RBA's target band of 2-3 per cent.Economic growth is forecast to reach 2.4 per cent in early 2026, a rate that's slightly above the pace the economy can comfortably sustain. The economy is running hot, and that's keeping prices elevated.Households are a major driver of this strength, helped by earlier interest rate cuts, recent tax changes and steady job and income gains. Investment in data centres and renewable energy projects is also adding momentum, along with improvements in housing investment.The problem? An economy growing faster than its sustainable pace inevitably creates inflationary pressure, exactly what the RBA has been trying to suppress.The RBA board discussed circumstances in which an increase in the cash rate might need to be considered at some point in the coming year, according to minutes from the December meeting. However, they noted it would take time to assess whether inflationary pressures are truly persistent or driven by temporary factors.RBA Governor Michele Bullock has been unusually frank about the situation. In December, she said she doesn't see rate cuts on the horizon for the "foreseeable future" and that the question is whether we face "an extended hold from here, or the possibility of a rate rise."The next crucial data point comes in late January, when the fourth quarter inflation figures are released. That information will heavily influence If a rate hike does materialise, banks emphasise it would be modest adjustment, not the start of an aggressive tightening cycle.The expected February rate rise would be a fine-tuning move, not the start of a large run-up in interest rates. The goal is to nudge inflation back toward target rather than cool the economy sharply.For someone with a $600,000 mortgage, even a single 0.25 per cent rate increase translates to approximately $80-100 extra per month in repayments. If NAB's prediction of two rate hikes proves correct, that figure doubles.For families already stretched thin by the cost of living, these aren't trivial amounts. The accumulated savings from 2025's rate cuts could be partially or entirely eroded if forecasts of rate increases come to pass.Not everyone is convinced rate hikes are inevitable. ANZ's head of Australian economics, Adam Boyton, notes that the economy is in an unusual position, GDP growth is around potential, the cash rate is around neutral, and the labour market is broadly in balance.This "goldilocks" scenario, not too hot, not too cold, could justify keeping rates steady. ANZ also reserves the option to put rate cuts back on the table if the labour market shows signs of weakening.Most economists don't expect inflation to comfortably settle within the RBA's target band until late 2027. That suggests we're in for an extended period of monetary policy uncertainty, with the central bank walking a tightrope between controlling inflation and avoiding recession.The question is whether it's just an extended hold from here, or the possibility of a rate rise, as Governor Bullock noted. The RBA itself can't put a precise probability on either outcome.In this environment of uncertainty, homeowners should consider: Reviewing your budget assuming rates could rise rather than fall. Can you absorb an extra $100-200 per month in mortgage payments?Consider fixing if you're on a variable rate, though weigh the pros and cons carefully. Fixed rates reflect market expectations of future rate moves and may already price in potential hikes.Build a buffer if possible. Having 2-3 months of expenses in savings provides crucial breathing room.Stay informed but don't panic. The RBA's next meeting on February 3 will provide crucial clarity, and the January inflation data will be the key factor in their decision.The Bottom LineAfter a year of relief, Australian mortgage holders face renewed uncertainty. The optimism of 2025's rate cuts has given way to a more complex picture where even modest rate increases are on the table.For now, the cash rate sits at 3.60 per cent. Whether it moves up, stays put, or eventually continues down depends on one crucial factor: whether inflation finally cooperates and moves sustainably back toward the RBA's 2-3 per cent target range.With the big banks divided and the RBA itself uncertain, Australians would be wise to prepare for multiple scenarios. The days of assuming rates will only move in one direction, either up or down, are over. We're entering an era where every data release matters and where the RBA's next move remains genuinely uncertain.The RBA's next cash rate announcement is scheduled for February 3, 2026, at 2:30 PM.

NSW’s New Gun Laws: What Just Happened?In Short• Hard Ownership Caps: A new limit of four firearms for recreational shooters and 10 firearms for primary producers is now law.• Increased Red Tape: Standard firearm license terms have been slashed from five years to two years, doubling renewal frequency and background checks.• Recategorisation and Buyback: Many common firearms (straight-pull/lever-release) are moving to Category C, supported by a state and federal-funded buyback scheme.In a marathon pre-Christmas session that stretched into the early hours of December 24, 2024, the NSW Parliament passed the most significant tightening of firearm legislation since the 1996 Port Arthur massacre.The Terrorism and Other Legislation Amendment Bill 2024 was fast-tracked by the Minns Government following the horrific Bondi Beach terrorist attack earlier that month. While the government says the laws are about "community safety first," the news has sent shockwaves through regional NSW, with critics calling it a "knee-jerk reaction" that punishes law-abiding farmers and shooters.The Core Changes: At a GlanceThe new laws introduce a "cap and category" system designed to drastically reduce the number of firearms in circulation:The Ownership Cap: A hard limit of four firearms per individual. Primary producers (farmers) have a higher cap of 10 firearms.Recategorisation: Straight-pull, pump-action, and button/lever-release firearms are moved to Category C, making them much harder for recreational shooters to access.Licence Terms Slashed: Standard firearm licences have been cut from five years down to two years, doubling the red tape and background checks for owners.Mandatory Club Membership: All licence holders must now belong to a gun club and use the GunSafe online platform.Citizenship Requirement: Licences are now restricted to Australian citizens (with some exceptions for NZ residents in specific roles).The Buyback: A state and federal-funded buyback scheme will be launched to compensate owners for newly prohibited firearms.The View from the Paddock: Peak Orgs ReactThe reaction from representative bodies has been swift and largely scathing.NSW Farmers President Xavier Martin slammed the legislation as "unworkable." The association argues that the 10-gun cap fails to account for large-scale operations where multiple properties require dedicated equipment for pest control."It’s incredible this government has allowed generous capping exemptions for recreational shooters but for farmers... the government hasn’t given us a second’s thought," Martin said.The Sporting Shooters Association of Australia (SSAA) has also condemned the "chaotic" reforms. SSAA CEO Tom Kenyon argued that the laws wouldn't have prevented the Bondi tragedy, noting that existing "fit and proper person" checks should have caught the offender if intelligence sharing had been better.Voice from the Electorates: Dalton and ButlerIndependent MPs representing the state's most expansive rural electorates led the charge against the Bill in Parliament.Member for Murray Helen Dalton did not mince words, labelling the move as the government’s "greyhound moment," referring to the backlash that toppled a previous government over a racing ban. "We have close to 10,000 law-abiding firearms owners in Murray... None of them have behaved like terrorists, but they are being treated like they are."Ms Dalton argues that regional people are being made "scapegoats" for a failure in urban intelligence.Member for Barwon Roy Butler, a former SSAA executive, attempted to amend the Bill to "grandfather" existing owners and split the protest laws from the firearm changes to allow for a committee inquiry.He described the laws as an "overreach" that ignores the real drivers of the attack, such as radicalisation and poor intelligence sharing.Mr Butler warns the two-year renewal cycle will put an "impossible burden" on already over-worked regional police who process these applications.What’s Next?The government is now moving toward a comprehensive audit of all existing licences. For those in the bush, the "buyback" details and the logistical nightmare of two-year renewals are the next big hurdles.

January brings the financial reckoning for December's festive spending, as credit card statements arrive and bank balances reveal the true cost of Christmas celebrations. For many households across regional NSW, the combination of holiday expenses, reduced working hours over the Christmas period, and January school costs creates genuine financial stress that can take months to resolve.The first step in managing post-holiday finances is an honest assessment of where you actually stand. Gather all your bank statements, credit card bills, and records of December spending to understand the full picture. This can be confronting, particularly if you avoided checking balances during December, but you can't make effective plans without knowing what you're dealing with. List all debts including amounts owed, interest rates, and minimum payments, and calculate your current available cash and expected income for January.Credit card debt attracts high interest rates that quickly compound if left unpaid, making it the priority for repayment. If you can't pay the full balance immediately, pay as much as possible above the minimum payment to reduce the principal and therefore the interest charged. If you're carrying balances on multiple cards, focus extra payments on the card with the highest interest rate while maintaining minimum payments on others. Consider whether transferring balances to a lower interest card or personal loan makes financial sense, though be wary of balance transfer offers that might have fees or conditions that outweigh the benefits.Creating a realistic budget for the coming months helps prevent further deterioration of your financial position while also showing a path forward. Track every dollar coming in and going out for at least a month to understand your actual spending patterns rather than what you think you spend. Many people are genuinely surprised by how much they spend on small, frequent purchases that seem insignificant individually but add up substantially over time. Free budgeting apps and spreadsheets can help track spending if you find manual record-keeping too tedious.Identify areas where you can realistically reduce spending, focusing on wants rather than needs. Subscription services, takeaway food, entertainment, and non-essential shopping are common areas where cuts can be made without genuine hardship. The goal isn't to eliminate all enjoyment from life but rather to bring spending back into line with income until you've recovered from holiday expenses. Be honest about what cuts you'll actually maintain rather than creating an unrealistic budget you'll abandon within weeks.If you're facing genuine financial hardship rather than just temporary cash flow problems, seek help early before the situation becomes critical. Financial counselling services are free and confidential, providing expert assistance with budgeting, negotiating with creditors, and accessing support programs. Many utility companies, phone providers, and lenders have hardship programs that can provide payment arrangements, reduced payments, or temporary relief if you're struggling. These programs work much better when you approach them proactively rather than waiting until bills are in collections.The temptation to ignore bills or avoid opening mail when finances are tight is understandable but counterproductive. Ignored bills don't disappear; they accumulate late fees, damage your credit rating, and can result in services being disconnected or legal action being taken. Open everything, respond to all communications, and contact providers immediately if you can't pay on time. Most organisations would rather work out a payment arrangement than pursue debt collection, but they can only help if you communicate with them.January sales and clearances offer genuine opportunities to save money on items you actually need, but they're also designed to encourage spending on things you don't need under the guise of getting a bargain. Before buying anything on sale, ask yourself whether you would have bought it at full price if you needed it, and whether the money wouldn't be better directed toward paying down debt or rebuilding savings. A bargain isn't a bargain if you can't afford it or wouldn't have bought it anyway.Building even a small emergency fund protects against unexpected expenses tipping you back into debt. Start with a modest goal like $500 or $1000, saving whatever you can afford each pay period even if it's just $20. This buffer means that when the car breaks down or a medical expense arises, you don't automatically reach for the credit card and create new debt. Once you've achieved your initial emergency fund goal, you can redirect that money toward debt repayment while maintaining the fund for genuine emergencies.For households dependent on agricultural income, January finances can be particularly challenging when income is uncertain or heavily seasonal. Plan conservatively using worst-case income scenarios rather than hoping for the best, and maintain strict separation between business and personal finances if you're managing a farm or rural enterprise. Professional accounting advice is worth the cost if your financial situation is complex, as the money saved through proper tax planning and financial management typically exceeds the fees charged.Children and finances intersect particularly sharply in January with back to school costs. Involve age-appropriate children in conversations about budgets and spending choices, teaching them that money is finite and choices have trade-offs. This doesn't mean burdening children with adult financial stress, but rather helping them understand why they can't have everything they want and involving them in decisions about where limited money is allocated. These lessons serve them well throughout life.If you've overspent significantly and are facing months of recovery, forgive yourself and focus forward rather than dwelling on regret. The Christmas period is specifically designed to encourage overspending through marketing, social pressure, and emotional appeals. You made the choices you made, and now you're dealing with the consequences and learning for next year. Self-recrimination doesn't help; practical action does.Looking ahead to next Christmas might seem premature in January, but starting early prevents repeating the same financial stress. Open a separate savings account specifically for Christmas expenses and contribute regularly throughout the year, even small amounts. Calculate what you actually spent this Christmas, decide what you can realistically afford next year, and divide that amount across the remaining months. When December arrives, you'll have money set aside rather than relying on credit or depleting regular savings.The post-holiday financial hangover is miserable and stressful, but it's temporary and fixable. Create a plan, make consistent progress on debt reduction, and remember that financial recovery happens gradually through sustained effort rather than dramatic gestures. By the time next Christmas approaches, you'll be in a much stronger position if you take action now rather than hoping the problem will somehow resolve itself.