Mallee Accommodation and Support Program has thanked the community for its fantastic support in the lead up to Christmas, with donations helping to make the festive season easier for local families.Recent contributions from Sacred Heart Primary School, Woolworths, Mildura Base Public Hospital Allied and Community Health and The Grain Shed Church of Christ in Swan Hill, along with Ray White Mildura's A Little Ray of Giving and Antisocial Collective's Toy Drive, are being distributed to MASP clients and families.MASP Chief Executive Officer Charmaine Calis said Christmas could be a difficult time for some, making donations of goods and toys particularly welcome. "We are so fortunate to have such a generous community here in the Mallee, helping us make a difference for families under our programs," she said."We cannot thank the businesses, organisations and community groups who take the time to run these drives and gather donations to be passed on enough, not just at Christmas time but all year round."Donations of new household goods and toys, or non-perishable food items, can be made at MASP's offices in Mildura, Dareton and Swan Hill. Those wishing to make a monetary donation to one of MASP's four donation funds, including Homelessness Support, Youth Support, Family Safety and Housing Development, can visit https://masp.org.au/get-involved/donate-and-fundraise-for-masp/ for more information.

The remarkable story of NSW's forgotten inland port that once rivalled major citiesIn the 1880s, when Australia was still finding its feet as a federated nation, the remote town of Wilcannia on the Darling River was one of the continent's most important inland centres. Paddlesteamers crowded its wharves, their smokestacks darkening the outback sky as they loaded wool and wheat bound for Adelaide and international markets beyond. At this time Wilcannia was the 3rd largest port in NSW after Sydney and Morpeth (near Newcastle) and was known as "Queen City of the West".Today, with a population of just over 700, it's hard to imagine this dusty outback town ever holding such prominence. Yet Wilcannia's rise and fall tells one of the most dramatic stories of boom and bust in Australian colonial history – a tale of ambition, prosperity, and the cruel realities of geography and technological change that shaped the destiny of countless inland communities.The area lies in the traditional lands of the Barkindji people, who call the river "Baaka". For thousands of years before European arrival, the Barkindji had lived along the river, understanding its moods and seasons, developing sophisticated methods of fishing and food gathering that sustained their communities through drought and flood. The arrival of Europeans in the 1860s would transform this ancient landscape beyond recognition.The town was officially proclaimed in June 1866 and incorporated as a municipality in 1881, but its importance as a trading centre had been established several years earlier. The discovery of silver at nearby Broken Hill in 1883 would later boost the town's fortunes, but it was the wool trade that initially made Wilcannia's reputation and fortune.The key to Wilcannia's early success lay in its position on the Darling River system. From 1859 the river was plied by paddlesteamers who went as far up as Bourke. In 1890 there were reported to be around 90 steamers using the river. The Darling River was navigable for over 1,600 kilometres, connecting the vast pastoral districts of western NSW and southern Queensland to the Murray River system and from there to the port of Adelaide.The scale of river traffic at Wilcannia's peak was extraordinary. A copy of a black and white photograph taken in 1902 shows 8 paddle steamers and 4 barges under a bridge over the Darling River near Wilcannia in N.S.W. Cargo is being unloaded onto the left bank. Two barges are also tied up on the right bank. This single photograph captures the intensity of commercial activity that made Wilcannia one of Australia's busiest inland ports.The paddlesteamers were marvels of 19th-century engineering, specifically designed for the shallow, winding rivers of the Murray-Darling system. Stern-wheelers were not uncommon on the Murray, but unsuited to the bends of the Darling. The vessels that plied the Darling were typically side-wheelers, their broad, flat-bottomed hulls able to navigate in as little as two feet of water when fully loaded.These river boats carried much more than cargo. They were the lifelines that connected isolated communities to the outside world, bringing news, mail, passengers, and manufactured goods to settlements that could be hundreds of kilometres from the nearest road. The arrival of a steamer was a major event, drawing people from surrounding stations and settlements to collect supplies, send mail, and catch up on news from the outside world.Wilcannia's boom years were marked by remarkable confidence and ambition. The town's main street was lined with two-storey stone buildings that wouldn't have looked out of place in Adelaide or Melbourne. The Athenaeum Theatre hosted touring companies and local productions. Multiple hotels catered to travellers, drovers, and commercial agents. Banks established branches to handle the substantial sums generated by the wool trade.The Red Lion brewery built in 1879 was the first brewery that the famous beer writer visited, highlighting Wilcannia's cultural as well as commercial significance. The establishment of a local brewery indicated not just economic prosperity but also the town's confidence in its future growth and importance.The municipal incorporation in 1881 reflected the town's civic pride and political aspirations. Wilcannia had its own mayor, town council, and local government services that rivalled those of much larger centres. The town boasted street lighting, a hospital, schools, and other infrastructure that demonstrated its residents' belief that they were building a permanent centre of regional importance.The wool industry that drove Wilcannia's prosperity was built on the vast pastoral stations that spread across western NSW. These stations, some covering hundreds of thousands of acres, ran millions of sheep whose wool was among the finest in the world. The wool clip from stations across the region was brought to Wilcannia by bullock dray and horse team, where it was baled and loaded onto steamers for transport to Adelaide.The seasonal rhythm of the wool industry dominated Wilcannia's calendar. Shearing season brought an influx of workers, contractors, and wool buyers to the town. The wharves would be stacked high with wool bales waiting for transport, and the hotels would be full of shearers, station managers, and commercial travellers. The successful completion of the wool season meant prosperity for the entire community.However, the very factors that made Wilcannia successful also made it vulnerable. The town's prosperity depended entirely on river transport, which was subject to the vagaries of rainfall and river levels. During drought years, the Darling River could become too shallow for navigation, stranding cargo and isolating communities. Flood years could be equally disruptive, making river transport dangerous and unpredictable.The arrival of railways in other parts of NSW began to change the economics of transport and trade. Rail transport was faster, more reliable, and less dependent on weather conditions than river transport. Towns with railway connections gained significant advantages over those dependent on steamers. When the railway reached Broken Hill in 1888, it provided an alternative route for much of the cargo that had previously travelled via Wilcannia and the river system.The decline of Wilcannia was not immediate but rather a gradual erosion of its economic base. As railway networks expanded across NSW, more and more cargo moved by rail rather than river. The number of steamers operating on the Darling began to decline, and the frequency of services to Wilcannia decreased accordingly.The wool industry itself was also changing. Improved roads and motor transport made it possible to take wool directly from stations to railway terminals, bypassing river ports altogether. The flexibility and convenience of road transport increasingly outweighed the cost advantages of river transport, especially as the road network expanded and vehicle technology improved.World War I marked a turning point for many of Wilcannia's young men, who enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force and never returned to the river trade. The war years saw significant changes in Australian society and economy, and the old patterns of river trade seemed increasingly anachronistic in a modernising nation.By the 1920s, Wilcannia's role as a major transport hub had largely ended. The last regular cargo service on the Darling River ceased in the 1930s, though some vessels continued to operate sporadically into the 1940s. The town's population began to decline as businesses closed and families moved to centres with better opportunities.The Great Depression of the 1930s hit Wilcannia particularly hard. With no significant economic base beyond the declining river trade, the town struggled to maintain its infrastructure and services. Many of the grand buildings of the boom years began to show their age, and some were demolished or fell into disrepair.Yet Wilcannia's decline also preserved something valuable. Unlike towns that were completely transformed by later development, Wilcannia retained much of its 19th-century character. The stone buildings that had been built to last during the boom years survived as reminders of the town's former importance.Today, Wilcannia is recognised as one of NSW's most significant heritage towns. Its collection of 19th-century commercial and public buildings provides an unparalleled glimpse into the era of river trade and inland prosperity. The former wharf area, though no longer used for commercial shipping, remains as evidence of the town's former role as a major inland port.The story of Wilcannia serves as a powerful reminder of how quickly fortunes can change in rural Australia. Geographic advantages that seem permanent can be overcome by technological change, and communities that appear solidly established can find themselves left behind by economic shifts beyond their control.Contemporary Wilcannia faces different challenges from those of its boom years, but the town's residents continue to work to preserve its heritage and find new sources of economic activity. Tourism, particularly heritage tourism, provides some employment and helps to maintain the town's historic buildings. The story of the "Queen City of the West" continues to fascinate visitors who come to see where paddlesteamers once crowded the wharves and wool bales filled the warehouses.Wilcannia's legacy extends beyond its own boundaries. The town's experience was repeated in dozens of river ports across the Murray-Darling system, each of which faced similar challenges as transport technology changed and economic patterns shifted. The rise and fall of river trade shaped the development of inland Australia and influenced the location and growth of contemporary cities and towns.For historians and heritage enthusiasts, Wilcannia represents an almost perfectly preserved example of a 19th-century Australian river port. The town's buildings, streetscape, and even its decline tell the story of an entire era of Australian development – an era when rivers rather than roads or railways were the highways of inland Australia, and when towns like Wilcannia were the gateways between the pastoral interior and the markets of the world.

One of my earliest childhood memories would be creeping into Japps, behind whatever adult I was accompanying, a painfully shy child. I was forever wowed by the perfectly put together, glamorous looking ladies with their wide smiles that were the ‘Japps girls,’ the iconic shop assistants at Japp’s pharmacy. Japp’s pharmacy has been one of those constants in Hay life, something that we have always relied upon. And now, in 2023, they are celebrating their 90th year of catering to the needs and taking care of Hay residents.The content to create this article originated from a 12 page pull out published in the Riverine Grazier on Wednesday 12 October, 1983. It was to celebrate Japp’s Pharmacy’s 50 years of trading in Hay.When the late Mr. Gibson Japp was negotiating to purchase the pharmacy from its founder, a Mr E.G. Clayton, it was described to Gibson as a ‘nice little business.’When the business was first conducted by the late G.H. Japp, a business he bought for 1750 pounds, it was in competition with two other pharmacies. In the intervening years, Mr Allan Japp trained as a pharmacist, joined his father in partnership, and after a time assumed sole proprietorship. The other pharmacies in Hay have long since been bought out by the Japp family.Post Office PharmacyMr Clayton commenced the business in about 1929, at 105 Lachlan Street, and appropriately named it the Post Office Pharmacy, because of its opportune location.In his negotiations with Mr Japp, letters from Mr Clayton announced that they business was turning over in the vicinity of 2000 pounds. It had been established in premises at the corner of Alma and Lachlan Streets, in a room that was partitioned off from a large area conducted as a saddlery by Charlie and Bill Brown.At the time of Mr Japp’s purchase, the other pharmacies were Rogers and Glyde conducted by Mr Ralph Palmer, and that conducted by Hazel Crossley in the premises later occupied by John Clemence and Brian Tellefson and now owned by Japps, and affectionately referred to as the ‘top shop’, meaning at the top end of Lachlan Street.Mr Clayton remained in business before he sought a new purchaser, with the view to making his home in Canberra.At that time, Gibson H. Japp was working in Albury after qualifying in Melbourne in 1928.He showed interest in purchasing a business and after considering some alternative offers, chose that of E.S. Clayton to be his venture. He took over the pharmacy on October 14, 1933, after arriving in Hay by train. This was during the time of the Great Depression, and many hours of work were required to earn a few shillings. The pharmacy was run by himself and a ‘shop boy,’ who was the messenger, cleaner, and shop assistant, all in one. Trading hours were 9am to 9pm, with an hour off for lunch and tea, Monday to Saturday. Sunday required opening from 9am to 12 noon, and from 7pm to 9pm. Half Day holiday was taken Wednesday afternoon but this was used to do any dispensing required at Hay Hospital, on an honorary basis, alternatively with John Clemence, who had recently taken over the pharmacy operated by Hazel Crossley.Rental of 12 pounds a month was paid, and takings amounted to 25 to 30 pounds a week.Russell Whitteron was one of the earliest employees, as were Jack Morris and John Wade, and they were followed by Noreen Brown, who worked up to early in the Second World War.At this stage, most of the business was to do with medicines, and the pharmacist would be mixing and creating things himself in the shop. There was a small area devoted to cosmetics and perfumes. Photography was a strong element of the business, with developing and printing of films a priority, all completed at the business site, with a fast turnaround.These developing and printing tasks were conducted by Mr Japp after the day’s trade was completed, with the pharmacy offering an overnight service.It was said to be quite the tedious task.The range of goods sold by the pharmacy included toothpastes, shampoos, household remedies, and cures claiming to have magical results. During this time, these kinds of products were primarily sold at pharmacies rather than at supermarkets. After the war, Ralph Palmer at Rogers Clyde wished to leave Hay, and thus his business was incorporated into Japps.Many of the older bottles and pieces of equipment, scales, pill machines and more that Japps have collected originated from a mixture of the original pharmacies of Hay, dentists in Hay and dentists in Deniliquin.In 1955, Mr Japp was able to buy the building, including his shop premises and residence from the Brown family. Afterwards, the Brown’s saddlery business moved to premises in McGregor Street and the pharmacy was enlarged, taking over the saddlery as office and storeroom and the other half of the cellar.This was the same year that Allan commenced his apprenticeship under his father’s tutelage.In 1959, Allan returned to Hay again after leaving for university education, and then renovations to the store were made. Mr Japp Senior and Mrs Japp went for a trip overseas in 1963. The couple returned in time for Allan and Jenis wedding in 1964, and then Mr Japp retired in 1966, tragically becoming ill with lung cancer. Since then, Allan has operated the business, working with many different pharmacists over this considerable time, and many valued employees.A savvy business move was Japps opening up an Agro Chemicals division in 1968. This was to address regular stock unavailability, the need to travel, and source produce from other areas.It was headed by Michael Breen after training with Neville Japp, who was a veterinarian. In 1969, space was proving to once again become an issue.The old storeroom was taken over by the pharmacy, and the premises was refitted and modernised, dispensary was moved to the storeroom, where the old loungeroom of the premises was.The Agrochemical department took over the old kitchen, and a side entrance was then added.In order to accomplish this, the roof was taken off.The Agrochemical Department ran successfully for years, being sold by 1980.Japp’s has unfailingly gone from strength to strength, continually employing locals and doing great works for the community. The pharmacy is one of the cornerstones of Hay’s life, and we would all certainly be lost without it.

Communities across regional New South Wales came together in the days following the Bondi Beach terrorist attack to honour the 15 victims killed in the horrific shooting on December 14, 2025.The town of Hay held a Bondi Memorial Service on Tuesday, December 16, at 7.30pm at Duck Pond, Pine/Morgan Street, organised by Father Paul Newton. Speaking about the tragedy, Father Newton said the fact that people who were "treasures in the eyes of God, people who deserve to be loved and to live and to be safe, were subject to unspeakable tragedy" had made him "sick and unsettled to the core."The memorial service provided local residents with an opportunity to come together in solidarity with the victims and Australia's Jewish community.In Wagga Wagga, a community candlelight vigil was held at 6pm on Thursday, December 18, at Victory Memorial Gardens. The event was organised by Federal Member for Riverina Michael McCormack, in conjunction with State Member for Wagga Wagga Dr Joe McGirr and Wagga Wagga Mayor Dallas Tout.Mr McCormack said the vigil was a sign of respect for the attack victims and to the Australian Jewish community. "We will be holding a community candlelight vigil on behalf of the city, on behalf of the council, on behalf of the community, to stand together with our friends from Jewish Australia, with our friends who are shocked right across the nation," he said.Mayor Tout emphasised the importance of hosting a vigil even though many people in the community were scared and distraught. "This is what we do when events like this happen: we stand up with others and say no to any of these sorts of events," he said."We will not stand for this in this community or any other community, because if you do not take any action or do not stand up as a community and contemplate what has happened and say no to these sorts of evil acts, that's when there's an opening for those sorts of things to possibly happen."The federal and NSW governments declared Sunday, December 21, as a national Day of Reflection to honour the victims of the terrorist attack and to stand in solidarity with the Jewish community. People across the country, including regional NSW, were invited to light a candle at 6.47pm, exactly one week since the attack unfolded, as a quiet act of remembrance with family, friends or loved ones.Australians were also asked to observe a minute of silence at 6.47pm, and flags on Australian and NSW government buildings were flown at half mast as a mark of respect for the lives lost.The attack at Bondi Beach on the first night of Hanukkah was Australia's worst mass shooting since the Port Arthur massacre in 1996. Fifteen people were killed when two gunmen, a father and son allegedly inspired by Islamic State ideology, opened fire on a peaceful Jewish celebration. Another 42 people were injured in the attack.Among those killed were 10-year-old Matilda, elderly Holocaust survivors Alexander Kleytman and Marika Pogany, and rabbis Yaakov Levitan and Eli Schlanger.

Following the Bondi Beach terrorist attack on December 14, 2025, which claimed 15 lives, Australian governments moved swiftly to introduce the nation's toughest gun law reforms in a generation. However, the changes have sparked significant opposition, particularly from regional communities and farming groups.Two gunmen, a father and son allegedly inspired by Islamic State ideology, opened fire on a peaceful Jewish Hanukkah celebration at Bondi Beach in Sydney. The attack was Australia's worst mass shooting since the Port Arthur massacre in 1996. The father, Sajid Akram, legally owned six firearms despite his son having previously appeared on an ASIO watch list.The NSW Government passed the Terrorism and Other Legislation Amendment Bill 2025 through parliament on December 23. The key changes include:Capping firearms ownership at four guns per person for recreational usersAllowing up to 10 firearms for primary producers, pest controllers and competitive sports shootersReducing firearms licence terms from five years to two yearsReclassifying certain firearms including straight-pull and pump-action shotguns into more restricted categoriesReducing magazine capacity for shotguns to between five and ten roundsRequiring all firearms licence holders to join a gun club, with exemptions availableRestricting firearms licences to Australian citizens only, with exemptions for New Zealand permanent residents in certain rolesRemoving the NSW Civil and Administrative Tribunal review pathway for firearms licence decisionsAdditionally, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese announced a national gun buyback scheme, similar to the one implemented after Port Arthur, for newly restricted firearms.The reforms have faced strong opposition from several groups for different reasons:NSW Farmers President Xavier Martin said the 10-gun limit would be impractical for many farming operations. "We're now being told that farmers have to sign up to a gun club in order to keep their licence. What will this mean for farmers who live hours away from their closest gun club?" he said.Farmers argue that those with properties spread across multiple locations need more firearms for pest control, livestock protection and animal welfare. The requirement to join gun clubs is seen as impractical for people living hours from the nearest facility.Many critics, including NSW Nationals MPs and independent members, argue the laws target law-abiding gun owners rather than addressing the root cause of the attack.Roy Butler, Member for Barwon, said the tragic events were "a terror attack fuelled by racism, radicalisation and extremism" and that Australia already has some of the toughest gun laws in the Western world. "We cannot conflate an act of terror with lawful firearms ownership," he said.Jamie Chaffey, Member for Parkes, stated: "Any changes to our gun laws are merely Labor's attempt to divert attention or discussion from the reality of what is primarily antisemitism. It's not the guns, it's Islamic extremism in our suburbs."Critics point to the fact that authorities knew about potential threats but failed to act. The father was able to obtain a firearms licence twice despite his son appearing on an ASIO watch list. Many argue the focus should be on fixing intelligence and security failures rather than restricting lawful gun ownership.The bill combined three separate issues into one omnibus bill: firearms legislation, protest restrictions and hate speech provisions. Parliament was recalled just days before Christmas to pass the legislation, with critics arguing this didn't allow proper scrutiny of complex legal changes.Independent MP Roy Butler asked for the bill to be separated so firearms aspects could be properly considered later, but his request was refused.The bill also includes provisions allowing police to ban protests for up to three months following a terrorist incident. Civil liberties groups have condemned this as overreach and potentially unconstitutional.The Liberal Party supported the legislation, but the National Party opposed it, causing a rare split in the Coalition. The Nationals said they would not support a bill that "uses gun reforms as a political tool rather than addressing the real issue of antisemitism."The Shooters, Fishers and Farmers Party announced they would field candidates in every seat that supported the legislation, viewing it as a betrayal of responsible gun owners.A Sydney Morning Herald poll found three-quarters of Australians support tougher gun laws. However, an e-petition against the changes garnered over 80,000 signatures in just two days, demonstrating significant opposition, particularly from regional areas.The NSW legislation has passed both houses of parliament and is now law. The federal government is developing national reforms including the buyback scheme and new offences related to 3D-printed firearms.A NSW royal commission into the Bondi massacre has been announced, while the federal government has launched a more limited review of intelligence and law enforcement agencies, due to report by April 2026.The debate continues over whether these reforms will effectively prevent future attacks or simply punish the estimated one million law-abiding firearms owners across Australia while failing to address the underlying issues of terrorism, radicalisation and antisemitism.

Anna Antonakas is a well known and loved Hay resident. How we came to be blessed with her presence is a tale of innocent love that transcended continents. Anna has always been a quiet person, for the most part always preferred being at home with her father and sister from a young age, having lost her mother when she was just over three years old. Her father was a busy man, holding down work, caring for his elderly parents, the two girls, and his sister and her children, who had lost her husband. They were poor, but they were very happy. Times were very different in Greece in Anna’s time; women rarely worked, only going to prune the olives for a six-month period every two years, and once a daughter was married, it was the father’s role to purchase a house in which the new couple would make their family. Anna and Greg met each other when she was 18, Greg a mere two years older. “I began to notice this young man in church, and he noticed me. It wasn’t the done thing in that time for people to walk up to each other and start hanging around, so we got small notes to each other through friends. “Four months after we met, he told me that he had the papers to go to Australia, which he had been waiting for, and would I ever go with him? I said that I would.” Greg came to Australia in 1954, and Anna fol lowed in 1958. The long and frequent letters flowed in those times, and love truly blossomed. “I was worried that he would come to this new country and find some other girl, but he never fal tered, and was determined to bring me to Australia,” Anna said. Greg was always a worker, having begun working at age 12. During his first four years in Australia, Greg com pleted two and-a-half years’ employment with pro prietor of Garden of Roses café, Mr Christie, to pay him back for his sponsorship. He then went to Griffith, and then Canberra work ing in cafes, and then spent six months in Sydney. A proficient cake baker, he went to school in Sydney to learn how to make more Australianised cakes. Anna’s dad was concerned for her when he found out she wanted to go to Australia. “He asked me if I was sure, if I knew where Australia was or how far away it was, and I said I am sure and no I don’t but I am going to find out,” Anna said. She jokingly says that not wanting to partake in any more olive seasons and not wanting her dad to worry about the expense of buying another house that prompted her epic adventure, and that love was a given. She stayed in Melbourne for a short while; not being able to communicate terrified, her, and she recalled many times that she would race out to the post office box to mail letters in the middle of the night to avoid conversation. She was picked up and taken to Hay, by Greg. “The road never finished, it felt like we were in that car for one month, travelling. “I began to get cranky, I said Greg where did you find Hay; you’d passed through everything else and then found it and decided to stay?” Anna said, laugh ing. “He said, this is where they brought me, and now you too, because Hay is where I’m staying.” She did not feel as though she could communicate effectively with the locals until she was in Hay for about three years. “The locals were always very nice, and welcom ing,” Anna said. “They were encouraging; telling me how good I was doing, learning the cake names, and things like that. But I always had a hard time for those first few years with talking and understanding, and that made life hard.” They married in Sydney, and enjoyed a lovely two-week honeymoon on Bondi Beach. “The motel was not very far from the beach at all, we had a wonderful time, seeing all sorts of things, the animals at the zoo, it was the only holiday we had for a long time,” Anna said. They lived at accommodations they found in South Hay for the first two and-a-half years. Anna chuckles when asked what she found in Hay and Australia different to Greece. “It was a matter of going from sleep to the shop, and then coming back from the shop to sleep,” she laughed. “That’s the way we liked it, always together, and always working.” The couple opened their cake shop, which they operated together for a few years, before opening the Scenic Café, where they spent 11 years in operation. Greg was an avid sportsman, playing football and other sports, and travelling to Griffith on weekends to play. “I asked him who will help me, I am close to hav ing the baby, and he said I will help, I will be here.” Supremely confident that everything would be alright, it took some words from their friend Mr Christie, to get Greg to finish up sports during that time. He then took up bowls on Saturdays and remained in Hay. When she went into labour with her first child, Steven, in 1960, she left the shop at 5pm, and went directly to the hospital, where the vet was previously located, welcoming Steven the next day. “I was very cranky, I had arrived before another lady, and she left before I gave birth,” Anna recalls. “I asked why did she get to have her baby and go home before I did, I was here first, and the nurses laughed and told me that it doesn’t work that way,” Anna said with a laugh. Maria was born in 1962, and it was once again heading directly from the shop to the hospital in order to welcome her to the world. By that time, they had purchased their home, Mr Christie’s who had moved to Melbourne, and in which Anna still resides, They sold the Scenic café after 11 years, but when the deal fell through it proved to be a very hard time for the family. Still forever fixated on helping others though, Greg helped another friend purchase the fruit shop in town, and eventually bought it from the friend when they left Hay. They ran that for a time. She recalls taking the children to Greece when they were in secondary school. “Steven did not enjoy it, we were there for six months, he says to me I don’t like it I don’t under stand anyone, I want to go home,” she says. “I replied, darling you only have a little while to go; you’re experiencing what it was like for me when I first came to Australia, I didn’t understand anyone either,” she says bemusedly. But as Greece changed, progressed more and became more of a tourist destination, she said the children loved it and visited most years. Being used to working in cafes, she was taken aback when Greg bought the hardware shop, origi nally located underneath Foodworks. “Greg came home one day and told me he had bought the hardware shop; I could not believe it. “I said oh that’s great, what do we know about hardware?” It was a long while before she felt like she wanted to have much involvement in the hardware shop, but warmed to it after a while. Anna credits the already employed worker there as being a big help in bridging their knowledge of hardware. They eventually moved it to its current location. Having bought the shop with a view of handing it down to his family, Greg eagerly enlisted Harry Kouroulis to help in the shop after he and Maria were wed. Harry still runs and owns it today. In 64 years of marriage, Anna and Greg were never apart; always together and doing what they loved. When Greg tragically passed away, she felt as though she would never be the same, having lost one half of who she is. She is doing so very well though, gardening, fam ily just across the road, and with her gorgeous little dog Lola as her companion. Anna recently went to Melbourne to see her beloved long-time friends, the Christies, and said they are aiming to come to Hay to see her soon. They love coming back to see her and “their house.” Anna also hopes to get to Greece next year, stoically remarking that it will be the last time she will make the trip, and ardently wishes that she can say one last goodbye to everyone there. She is so happy she took the chance and would never have changed it for anything. She is justifiably proud of their life and all that they accomplished, having come to Australia with nothing, bat tled, worked hard for everything they had. “Sixty-four years of Hay, nobody could offer me anything that would make me ever want to change it,” she said. “I love Hay, I have been here much longer than my first 20 years of life in Greece; it is my home.”

Australian attempts to sing traditional Christmas carols create wonderful cognitive dissonance. Singing about snow and winter wonderlands whilst sweltering in summer heat feels absurd, yet we persist. Some communities have attempted to write Australian Christmas carols mentioning gum trees and kangaroos, but these never quite catch on, probably because they are objectively terrible.School Christmas concerts across Australia feature children dressed as snowmen melting under stage lights, singing about sleigh rides they will never experience and white Christmases that will never happen. Parents sweat in crowded halls, filming performances on phones while wondering if air conditioning was considered when booking the venue.The six white boomers song, which reimagines Santa's reindeer as kangaroos, represents Australia's most successful attempt at a local Christmas carol. It is terrible. Everyone knows it is terrible. Yet it gets played every year, and people genuinely enjoy it, proving that patriotism can overcome artistic merit.Community carols by candlelight events happen across the country, bringing thousands of people together to sing in parks and showgrounds. The candlelight aspect becomes problematic when it is still daylight at 8pm due to summer evenings, turning it into carols by unnecessary candles. Total fire bans occasionally force the cancellation of the candles entirely, creating the less romantic carols without candles event.Amateur performers at these events range from genuinely talented to enthusiastically terrible. Every community seems to have someone who believes they have a beautiful singing voice but objectively does not, yet who volunteers to perform solo pieces year after year. The polite applause that follows these performances is peak Australian social behaviour.As another Australian Christmas approaches, these quirky traditions continue, each one adding to the gloriously bizarre way this nation celebrates a European winter festival in the middle of summer. From prawns to pavlovas, pool parties to pageants, Australian Christmas remains wonderfully, uniquely chaotic.

The rise and fall of the Balranald line that linked remote NSW to the worldOn 26 March 1926, the sound of a train whistle echoed across the vast plains of the NSW Riverina as the first locomotive pulled into Balranald station. After decades of lobbying, political battles, and painstaking construction through some of Australia's most challenging terrain, the remote town finally had its connection to the outside world – a railway line that would transform life in one of the continent's most isolated regions.The Balranald railway line represented more than just transport infrastructure; it was a triumph of political will and engineering determination over geographic isolation. For the scattered communities between Moulamein and Balranald, separated by hundreds of kilometres of sparsely populated plains, the railway promised to end their isolation and connect them to the economic opportunities of the broader world.The story of the Balranald railway begins not in 1926, but in the political chambers of Sydney during the early years of the 20th century. The Border Railways Act of 1922 had authorised construction of several railway lines to connect isolated communities near the Victorian border, but the Balranald line faced unique challenges that would test the resolve of engineers and politicians alike.The route from Moulamein to Balranald covered 143 kilometres of flat but often challenging terrain. Unlike railway construction in more densely populated areas, the Balranald line traversed vast stretches where the nearest settlement might be a single homestead or pastoral station. The engineering challenges were compounded by the region's extreme weather conditions, from scorching summers that could buckle rails to winter frosts that could crack concrete foundations.Construction began in earnest in the early 1920s, employing hundreds of workers who lived in temporary camps along the route. These railway construction camps became temporary communities in their own right, complete with mess halls, recreation facilities, and even small hospitals to treat workers injured in the dangerous work of railway building. The workers included skilled tradesmen from Sydney and Melbourne, as well as local men seeking steady employment during the economically uncertain post-war years.The construction gangs faced formidable challenges in the flat but often waterlogged terrain of the western Riverina. During wet seasons, construction sites could become quagmires that bogged down heavy equipment and made precise surveying nearly impossible. The railway builders had to construct numerous culverts and drainage systems to manage seasonal flooding, while also ensuring that the permanent way could withstand the region's extreme temperature variations.One of the most significant engineering challenges was the construction of bridges across the various creeks and waterways that crossed the route. The bridge across Yanga Creek near Balranald became a particular source of pride for the railway builders – a substantial steel and concrete structure that demonstrated the permanent nature of the railway's commitment to the region. The bridge was designed to handle not only regular passenger and freight trains but also the heavy wool trains that were expected to form the bulk of the line's traffic.The railway's construction was closely watched by local communities, who saw it as their connection to modernity and prosperity. Farmers along the route organised celebrations and gatherings as the railway advanced, recognising that the steel rails represented their liberation from dependence on costly and unreliable road transport. The railway promised to cut transport costs dramatically and provide reliable access to markets regardless of weather conditions.When the first train finally arrived in Balranald on that March day in 1926, the entire town turned out to celebrate. Local newspapers described scenes of jubilation as the locomotive, decorated with flags and bunting, pulled into the new station. Speeches were made by local politicians and railway officials, while bands played and children waved from every vantage point along the track.The early years of the Balranald railway represented its golden age. The line operated as a mixed service, with trains carrying both passengers and freight on the same journey. The twice-weekly service became the heartbeat of the region, connecting communities in ways that had never before been possible. Farmers could ship their wool and wheat directly to major markets, while residents gained access to manufactured goods, mail, and news from the outside world.The railway's impact on local agriculture was transformative. Before the railway, farmers faced the expensive and time-consuming task of transporting their produce by bullock dray or motor truck over rough roads to distant railway terminals. The new line allowed them to load their wool and grain directly onto trains at local sidings, dramatically reducing transport costs and improving the reliability of getting produce to market.Small sidings along the route became focal points for rural communities that had previously been isolated from regular transport services. Places like Koraleigh, Burraboi, and Gonn developed around railway infrastructure, with grain silos, stock yards, and basic services clustering around the platforms where trains stopped to collect passengers and cargo.The passenger service provided social connections that were just as important as the economic benefits of freight transport. Families separated by vast distances could visit each other regularly for the first time. Young people could travel to regional centres for education and employment opportunities. Medical emergencies could be handled by transporting patients to hospitals in larger towns. The railway timetable became a crucial document in every household, marking the rhythm of social and economic life across the region.The railway also played a crucial role during times of crisis. During droughts, trains brought stock feed and emergency supplies to struggling farmers. During floods, when roads became impassable, the railway remained the only reliable means of transport in and out of the region. World War II saw the line carrying military personnel and equipment, while the post-war boom years brought new settlers and returning servicemen to the area via the railway.However, even during its most successful years, the Balranald railway faced ongoing challenges that would eventually contribute to its demise. The scattered population of the region meant that passenger numbers were never high, while freight traffic was seasonal and dependent on agricultural conditions. The railway required constant maintenance in harsh conditions, with extreme temperatures causing rails to expand and contract, and occasional floods damaging track and infrastructure.The 1950s and 1960s brought significant changes to rural Australia that began to undermine the railway's economic viability. Improved roads and the increasing reliability and capacity of motor trucks made road transport increasingly competitive with rail transport. The flexibility of road transport – the ability to deliver goods directly from farm gate to final destination – began to outweigh the cost advantages of rail transport.Government policy also began to shift away from supporting rural railways. The economic rationalist policies that gained influence in the 1970s and 1980s emphasised efficiency and cost-effectiveness over social and regional development considerations. Railways that couldn't pay their own way were increasingly seen as unnecessary drains on public resources.The decline of the Balranald railway was gradual but relentless. Passenger services were reduced and eventually discontinued as car ownership increased and bus services provided more flexible transport options. Freight traffic declined as farmers increasingly used road transport for their produce. The railway's infrastructure began to show its age, requiring expensive upgrades that couldn't be justified by the declining traffic levels.By the early 1980s, it was clear that the Balranald railway was approaching the end of its useful life. The final passenger train ran in 1983, marking the end of regular passenger services that had connected the region for nearly sixty years. Freight services continued for a few more years, but with ever-decreasing frequency and tonnage.The decision to close the section from Moulamein to Balranald was announced in 1986, marking the end of an era for the region. The last train to run on the line carried a mixture of railway officials, local dignitaries, and residents who wanted to experience one final journey on the railway that had served their communities for six decades.The closure was followed by a systematic removal of infrastructure so thorough that today, few traces remain of what had once been a substantial railway line. Rails and sleepers were removed and sold for scrap metal, while stations and other buildings were demolished or relocated. The bridge across Yanga Creek near Balranald, once a symbol of the railway's permanent commitment to the region, was demolished to make way for highway realignment.The speed and thoroughness of the railway's removal reflected changed attitudes toward rural infrastructure. Unlike the careful preservation of historic railways in other parts of Australia, the Balranald line was treated purely as obsolete infrastructure to be disposed of as efficiently as possible. The land resumed by the railway was sold back to adjoining property owners, and within a few years, much of the route had been returned to agricultural use.Today, only the most determined railway enthusiast can trace the route of the former Balranald railway. Occasional cuttings and embankments mark where trains once ran, while concrete foundations hint at the locations of former stations. The highway that now carries the traffic once transported by rail runs parallel to parts of the old railway route, but modern travellers speed past without knowing that trains once served these remote communities.The story of the Balranald railway reflects broader patterns in rural Australian development. The line was built during an era of optimism about rural development and government commitment to providing services to isolated communities. Its closure came during a period of economic rationalism that prioritised efficiency over social considerations and saw rural services as expendable if they couldn't demonstrate clear economic returns.The railway's legacy extends beyond its physical infrastructure to encompass the social and economic development it enabled during its sixty years of operation. Communities that grew up around railway stations developed different characteristics from those that remained dependent on road transport. The railway created patterns of settlement, commerce, and social interaction that persisted long after the trains stopped running.For the communities it once served, the Balranald railway remains a symbol of connection and possibility. Older residents remember the excitement of train travel and the reliability of rail transport during difficult times. The railway represented government commitment to rural Australia and the belief that distance and isolation could be overcome through public investment in infrastructure.The disappearance of the Balranald railway also represents a broader shift in how Australians think about rural development and public transport. The railway was built during an era when governments saw the provision of transport services as a public responsibility, regardless of immediate economic returns. Its closure reflected changed priorities that emphasised commercial viability over social and regional development considerations.Contemporary discussions about rural transport and regional development often reference the lost railway networks of rural Australia. The Balranald railway, along with hundreds of other rural lines closed during the late 20th century, represents infrastructure that took decades to build but was removed in a matter of years. The question of whether this represented progress or short-sighted policy continues to influence debates about rural Australia's future.The vanished railway line serves as a reminder that infrastructure decisions have long-lasting consequences for rural communities. The railway that took years to build and sixty years to serve the region was erased so thoroughly that future generations may never fully understand what was lost when the last train departed Balranald station and the steel rails were lifted from the red earth of the western Riverina.

When the Anglican Church time capsule was cracked open, there was excitement in the air, and then dust, and then the first letter was drawn.It was addressed to the future children of Anthony Bradford. Anthony’s hands must have trembled slightly when they handed him the envelope. Inside the year 2000-time capsule opened in Hay was a letter his grandfather, Jim Bradford Senior, had written to him back in 1972, a letter he’d completely forgotten about. “I’ve got goosebumps talking about it,” the emotion still fresh despite the years that have passed. But the story doesn’t end there. Inside that envelope were photographs of his father, Jim Bradford, as a child, images Anthony had never seen before. So moved by this connection across generations, he made a decision that would create yet another bridge through time. He repurposed those precious photographs and the letter, adding them back into a new time capsule along with photographs of his own wife and messages for his two sons, who didn't even exist yet when he sealed that capsule in 2000. “I can't open that letter because it's not addressed to me,” Anthony explained. “It’s addressed to my two boys.” Now those boys are grown. Finn, 22, has just returned from Europe and finished his degree in politics, philosophy and economics at university in Canberra. Sam, turning 19 in January, has just completed first year psychology at ANU, following in his mother Rachel’s footsteps. Anthony is waiting for the right moment to bring them both together to finally open that letter and see what wisdom their father captured for them a quarter century ago. “I’m scratching my head trying to think what it might've been,” he laughed. “I’m a bit scared actually. I’m a bit worried that I haven't written things like ‘this is the sort of parent that I want to be’ and I hope I’ve actually delivered.” Given what Anthony has achieved since leaving Hay on January 22 1988 at just 17 years old, it seems likely he’s exceeded any expectations he set for himself. The young man who left Hay that day, one of the youngest in his year 12 class, not turning 18 until April, had dreams of exploring the world. Growing up in a family that wasn’t wealthy and didn’t travel much beyond visiting relatives in Wodonga, Anthony saw the defence force as his ticket to adventure. He studied hard, got the marks, and was accepted into the Defence Academy in Canberra. For eight years, he served as a navigator, driving ships and patrol boats around Darwin and Perth before moving to head office in Canberra. But the world he would ultimately explore wasn't mapped in nautical charts, it was the complex landscape of the human mind. After leaving the Navy, Anthony pursued further studies and moved into private consulting. Then, in 1999, just before he wrote that letter to his future children, he and Rachel started their own business in corporate psychology, specialising in workplace stress. “We had no idea when we started out what our world would become and what we’d end up doing,” Anthony reflects. “It wasn't even a grand plan really. It just sort of evolved.” Evolved it certainly did. Over 26 years, they grew that business to employ over 100 psychologists across the country before selling it last year, a life achievement that Anthony suspects featured prominently in the advice he wrote to his sons. “One of the themes I feel I would’ve written about was when we started our business, you know, the world’s your oyster, have a crack, what’s the worst that can happen? Believe and succeed, all that motivational stuff,” he said. “Because we specialised in workplace stress, I probably wrote stuff around don’t take life too seriously, enjoy life, seize the day, look after yourself; resilience, mental health, all that sort of stuff. That's what our business was all about.” Now, semi-retired and contemplating his next chapter, Anthony has strong views on the mental health crisis facing Australian youth, views shaped by decades of expertise and, no doubt, by watching his own sons navigate modern life. “One in three girls now under the age of 16 has a clinically diagnosed anxiety condition in this country,” he said sombrely, the statistics clearly troubling him. “Which is outrageous. It is absolutely outrageous.” The problem, as Anthony sees it, lies in a fundamental misunderstanding of what builds resilience. He speaks passionately about the difference between self-esteem and self-efficacy; a distinction most people don’t know exists, but which he believes is crucial to understanding youth mental health. “We’ve focused way too much on self-esteem in our society, in our families, in our schools,” he explained. “Don't upset little Johnny’s feelings, you know, that’s not nice. “We don’t want to upset anybody. But what's more important is self-efficacy, which is the belief that you can do things. That’s an inner confidence.” Self-efficacy, Anthony explained, is what allows someone who fails an exam or gets rejected from a job interview to think, “Never mind, I’ll be right. I know what I can do. I can try again.” But developing that confidence requires something modern parenting often denies children, the opportunity to fail and recover. “You build self-efficacy from having a go, falling off the horse, getting back on,” he said. “Unfortunately, we see way too often now in the cities where kids aren’t allowed to even get on a horse to start with, let alone risk falling off and hurting themselves. “That in itself is a really big problem in our society.” The irony, he said, is that parents have become hyper-focused on protecting children from physical dangers while neglecting the far greater psychological dangers of unlimited internet access. “We focus so much on protecting our children from the outside world in terms of physical danger that we’ve neglected the non-physical danger such as the online space,” he said.“We just let our kids spend 10 hours a day on the internet in their bedrooms. We stopped them going out and doing crazy things, riding bikes and climbing trees because they might get hurt, stranger danger and all that. ‘But online seems to be fine. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s online that is the most danger, not riding your bike around the river and jumping out of a tree like I used to do.” He’s equally forthright about parenting styles. “You have too much peer parenting. Parents want to be best friends with their kids rather than be parents. The old days of tough love, holding people accountable and setting standards, that’s not child abuse, but people confuse it. “They think saying no to a kid or punishing them, grounding them, taking away pocket money because they didn’t do what they said they were going to do is child abuse. “We can’t hurt their feelings because we’re so desperate for them to be our best friend, to love us, and all that stuff is at the expense of being a parent and holding standards and maintaining accountability.” Its perspective born from both professional expertise, his wife Rachel is one of Australia’s leading experts in workplace stress, and personal experience. Anthony looks back fondly on his simple Hay childhood, even as he acknowledges there were parts he didn’t enjoy. That simplicity, that freedom to explore and take risks, shaped who he became. He still returns to Hay at least once a year, and usually for the Bradford-Harvey family reunion held every five years at Easter. People come from all around the world now for these gatherings, booking out the Hay South Caravan Park, though fewer Bradfords remain in town these days. His younger sister Veronica, is now a humanitarian worker based in Oman, working on Palestinian refugee projects after spending two years in Ukraine. His sister Gaylene is somewhere in between them. Only a couple of cousins remain in Hay itself. Not this past Anzac Day, but the one before, Anthony gave the commemorative address at the dawn service, a homecoming of sorts for the boy who left at 17 with dreams of seeing the world and ended up building an empire in understanding the human mind. When he finally sits down with Finn and Sam to open that letter from their father’s younger self, Anthony might be surprised by what he reads. Or perhaps he’ll find that the themes he suspects are there; resilience, self-efficacy, having a go at life, looking after yourself, are exactly the values he’s lived and passed on to his sons through example rather than words. After all, he took his own advice. He had a crack. He believed. He succeeded. And now, one letter from his grandfather and one to his sons bookend a remarkable journey from Hay to the heights of Australian corporate psychology, a journey that started with a simple desire to see the world and ended with helping thousands of Australians navigate the most important landscape of all; their own mental health. The world may have been his oyster, but Anthony Bradford proved that sometimes the greatest adventures aren’t about the places you go, but the lives you touch along the way.Occasions such as the opening of the time capsule illuminate the fact that people from Hay are now spread far and wide around the world have done, and are doing amazing things, and still hold Hay dearly in their hearts.

When Ben and Kelly Phillips packed up their lives in Melbourne and moved to Hay in April 2023, they weren’t just changing postcodes. They were reclaiming time, sanity, and the simple joy of watching their four daughters walk freely down the street without constant supervision. The catalyst for their tree change was an unlikely one, COVID-19 lockdowns. “We wanted to get away from the rat race a little bit,” Kelly explained. “I kind of loved almost being in lockdown a little bit. It was hard, but it made us go, oh, hang on, there’s a lot of stuff that we do that we probably don't need to do.” For Ben, who worked in civil construction on major Melbourne projects including the Metro Tunnels, the daily grind was unsustainable. “I’d have to leave home at around four thirty in the morning and then get home about seven, seven-thirty,” he said. The couple’s commutes added two to three hours to their days, with Kelly frequently calling the school to say she was stuck in traffic and couldn’t make pickup on time. Their connection to Hay began a decade earlier through friendship. Kelly went to high school in Berwick with Sam Harrison, and the couple had been visiting the Harrison’s for years, wherever they lived around Australia. “We just kind of stayed in that same friend group,” Kelly said. When they attended a New Year’s Eve party at Fraser and Jenny Dwyer’s place during one visit to Hay, they met many of the people who would become their closest friends after the move. The decision to relocate happened almost by accident. “We were actually looking at buying or extending our current house or buying a new house in Melbourne,” Kelly said. “I didn’t want a bigger mortgage and I just joked to Ben, let’s move to Hay,” Kelly recalled. “He instantly agreed.” They briefly considered properties in high country Victoria but realised that spending another million and a half dollars on a property wouldn't actually change their lifestyle. “I’m not going to be home more in a different house,” Ben said simply. The financial calculation made sense, but their biggest worry was how their four daughters, India, Nyah, Sahara, and Alaska, would adapt to small town life. That concern evaporated on moving day. “The moving trucks were still there and a young Maggie Shields turned up to our front door and said, welcome to town, I believe one of your daughters will be going to school, would she like to come for a walk?” Kelly said. “My Melbourne brain was like, yeah, should we let her walk off?” When their daughter didn’t return for hours, Kelly and Ben started to worry. “The sun starts going down, so we start freaking out,” Ben said. “I said to Kelly, look, this is probably the dumbest thing here, let’s not start freaking out yet.” Another girl’s mum eventually dropped their daughter at the front door. “That was our welcome to country," Ben said. Each of their four daughters had similar experiences on their first day of school. “Each girl, when the first day they walked into school, had a little welcome party of kids that took them off," Kelly said. “We didn’t expect that. Our biggest worry was the girls transitioning to a small country town.” Nearly three years later, the family has no regrets. Kelly kept her job in defence logistics and now works remotely from home. “I work from home in my dressing gown,” she laughed. “The dream.” Ben has shifted his focus from large commercial projects to renovations, extensions, bathrooms, and kitchens around Hay. “Most of the jobs I’m getting, they’ve said, oh, you know, we've contacted other builders and they’re either not interested or we’re waiting, would you be interested in doing it?” he explained. He's found satisfaction in the work, estimating he enjoys about eighty per cent of his job. “It’s pretty hard yakka on these old places, but I do enjoy it,” he said. Ben was recently nominated for the Hay Business Excellence Awards by a client he’s still working for, something that meant a great deal to him once he realised nominations came from actual community members rather than being automatically distributed. There’s a running joke in the Phillips household about Ben’s professional success. “Don’t marry a builder because your own house will not get done,” Kelly quipped. Ben admitted that if he had to make a speech at the business awards, he would’ve said something along the lines of not knowing whether his wife would be happy or mad about the recognition because it’s just a reminder of how much work he’s done everywhere else except their own house. The adjustment to country life hasn’t been without challenges. “Sometimes just the accessibility to things,” Kelly said when asked about disadvantages. The lack of a local dentist means appointments become day trips. When the girls need red t-shirts for sports day and Kelly isn’t organised, she can’t just drive five minutes to Westfield. Materials for construction projects can be harder to acquire. But Ben sees a silver lining in the isolation. “What we loved about moving down here with the kids, is it highlights what is really important,” he said. “The wants aren’t there for them anymore, so they’re so much more relaxed and find joy in simpler things rather than wanting to go shopping or live at the shops with their friends or whatever city kids do.” When the family drives back to Melbourne now, the contrast is stark. Ben can point out buildings and infrastructure he helped construct, but the lifestyle they left behind holds no appeal. “The resounding feeling is we’re happy we’re not there,” he said. The girls have embraced country sports, particularly league tag, which doesn’t exist in Melbourne. “They’re all giving everything a go, which makes it turn into a nice family day, all driving together for the sport, and then coming home together again,” Kelly said. The family travels for three to four kids to play sports, but it’s become a bonding experience rather than a logistical nightmare. Ben coaches Lions reserves, an involvement that would have been impossible in their old life. Kelly’s parents, Ray and Kerry Gordon, followed the family to Hay, and her sister lives there as well. Ben’s parents are still in Melbourne, and the couple hopes they might eventually make the move too, though they’re still relied upon by Ben's siblings. Perhaps the most profound change is the freedom their daughters now enjoy. In Melbourne, the Phillips lived on a quiet street in a nice area, but there were two parks at the end of their street, one of which the girls couldn't visit without supervision. “Now your kids can just leave the front door and go,” Kelly said. undercurrent of vigilance, always something to worry about. The knowledge that everyone in town would recognise the Phillips girls provides a safety net that anonymous city life could never offer. The family’s four daughters have distinctive, beautiful names, each chosen through different circumstances. India’s name was initially rejected by Ben during pregnancy in favour of Harlow, but when their daughter arrived, Kelly decided she didn't look like a Harlow and Ben suddenly loved the name India. Nylah came from combining Kelly’s choice of Nala with Ben’s preference for Naya. Sahara was inspired by a woman Kelly met in a shop who had just named her daughter Sahara. Alaska’s origin remains a mystery even to her parents. People often assume the girls are named after geographical locations, an assumption Kelly finds amusing since Nyah doesn’t fit that pattern, though everyone calls her the Nile anyway. “They’re going to cop that for the rest of their lives and it’s our fault,” Kelly laughed. “It was an oversight.” But she’s unbothered by the potential teasing. Growing up as one of six Kellys in her year at school in Berwick in the eighties, she was determined her daughters wouldn’t have three of the same name in their class. “From the very first night we stayed here, it felt like home,” Kelly reflected. The street they lived on in Melbourne was nice enough, but there was always an In Hay, if Nyah was walking up the street on her own and someone came across her, they’d recognise her as one of the Phillips girls. If anything happened, someone would have seen her just five minutes ago. The girls can walk to their friends’ houses without elaborate safety protocols. COVID-19’s legacy for the Phillips family isn’t one of loss or hardship, but of clarity. Those lockdowns forced them to examine what they truly valued and gave them permission to walk away from the endless treadmill of city life. Now, instead of adding hours to their days sitting in traffic, they’re adding richness to their lives through genuine community connection, watching their daughters flourish in the freedom of country childhood, and building a business that serves neighbours rather than disappearing into the anonymous machinery of metropolitan construction. When asked if they had any regrets nearly three years after the move, the reply was a simple and emphatic no. What remains behind in Melbourne are empty rooms where laughter once echoed, parks the girls couldn’t visit safely, and the ghosts of commutes that stole precious family time. What lies ahead in Hay are open streets where daughters can roam freely, a community that welcomed them with open arms from the moment the moving truck arrived, and the echoes of a life well lived, built on the foundation of what truly matters.

The secret to a relaxed Christmas morning lies not in last-minute chaos but in the quiet satisfaction of preparation done well in advance. The beauty of making things ahead is that it transforms the frantic countdown into something altogether more manageable, allowing you to actually enjoy the festivities rather than simply surviving them.Start with your Christmas pudding, which actually improves with age like a fine wine. Traditional cooks make theirs on "Stir-up Sunday," the last Sunday before Advent, giving the pudding a good five weeks to mature. The brandy or rum you feed it weekly penetrates deeper into the dried fruit, creating those complex, boozy flavours that make Christmas pudding so distinctive. Wrap it well in baking paper and foil, store it somewhere cool and dark, and it'll be infinitely better than anything made in a rush on Christmas Eve.The same principle applies to your Christmas cake, which benefits from being made at least a month ahead. Once baked and cooled, pierce it all over with a skewer and feed it a few tablespoons of brandy or your chosen spirit every week. This process, known as "feeding" the cake, keeps it moist and develops those deep, rich flavours that shop-bought versions simply cannot match. When you're ready to decorate, you can do the marzipan layer a week before Christmas and the royal icing a few days later, spreading the work out beautifully.Biscuits and cookies are your best friends for advance preparation because they freeze brilliantly. Gingerbread, shortbread, and those buttery melt-in-your-mouth creations can all be made weeks ahead, frozen in airtight containers, and then simply thawed when needed. If you're planning to decorate them, you can either do this before freezing or make it a fun activity closer to Christmas. The dough itself can also be frozen, which means you could prepare it in November and bake fresh biscuits in December with half the effort.Sauces and condiments deserve attention too, particularly cranberry sauce, bread sauce, and any special chutneys or relishes you're planning to serve. Cranberry sauce made a week ahead actually tastes better as the flavours meld together, and it takes up valuable stovetop real estate on Christmas Day if you leave it until then. Bread sauce can be made the day before and gently reheated, whilst homemade chutneys and pickles benefit from being made months in advance.Your gravy base is another revelation when made ahead. You can make a rich stock from turkey or chicken bones weeks before, freeze it, and then on Christmas Day simply reheat it with the pan drippings for an instant, restaurant-quality gravy. Some cooks even make the entire gravy in advance and freeze it, though purists insist that incorporating the actual roasting pan juices on the day makes all the difference.Mince pies are endlessly versatile in their preparation timeline. You can make the mincemeat months ahead, as the mixture only improves with time. The pastry can be made and frozen, or you can assemble the entire pies and freeze them unbaked, then pop them straight into the oven from frozen when needed. Some people swear by making them a few days ahead and storing them in tins, whilst others insist they must be fresh from the oven. The truth is they're delicious either way, so choose whatever timeline suits your schedule.Don't overlook the smaller touches that make Christmas special. Flavoured butters can be made weeks ahead and frozen, ready to be sliced into attractive rounds for the table. Homemade chocolates and truffles freeze beautifully and can be made whilst you're in a calm, creative mood rather than during the December rush. Even things like breadcrumbs for stuffing can be made from stale bread and frozen, saving precious time when you're juggling multiple dishes.The key to successful advance preparation is organisation and proper storage. Invest in good quality freezer bags and containers, label everything clearly with contents and dates, and keep a list on your fridge so you know exactly what you've got stashed away. There's nothing quite like the smug satisfaction of opening your freezer in mid-December and seeing rows of prepared items, knowing that half the hard work is already done. The gift you give yourself through advance preparation is time, the chance to sit down with a cup of tea on Christmas morning, the ability to actually talk to your guests instead of being chained to the stove, and the luxury of enjoying the day you've worked so hard to create.

Nothing strikes fear into the heart of an Australian quite like the words "prawn shortage" uttered in mid December. In 2019, the nation collectively panicked when reports emerged that prawns might be in short supply for Christmas, threatening to upend the most sacred of Australian festive traditions.Forget turkey. Forget ham. For many Australian families, Christmas lunch without prawns is simply not Christmas. The crisis sent shoppers into a frenzy, with some supermarkets reporting people buying entire trays of prawns weeks in advance and stashing them in their freezers like some kind of crustacean doomsday preppers.The panic revealed just how deeply weird Australian Christmas traditions are when viewed from the outside. Whilst the Northern Hemisphere is roasting chestnuts and dreaming of white Christmases, Australians are standing around in 40 degree heat, eating cold seafood and wondering why anyone would want to cook a hot roast dinner in summer.The prawn obsession is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Australian Christmas peculiarities. We have somehow convinced ourselves that a cold lunch of seafood, cold meats and salads is traditional, despite the fact that Christmas is a winter festival we have transplanted into the middle of summer and stubbornly refuse to adapt properly.The Australian suburbs transform into battlegrounds each December as neighbours compete to create the most spectacular, outrageous and occasionally dangerous Christmas light displays. What starts as a few tasteful fairy lights inevitably escalates into full scale productions that would make Las Vegas blush.Some households take it further than others. In 2018, a family in western Sydney created a display so elaborate it required its own dedicated power supply and caused traffic jams as people drove from across the city to view it. Council rangers were called repeatedly by disgruntled neighbours complaining about the noise, lights and constant stream of visitors.Then there are the inflatable decorations. Giant inflatable Santas, snowmen and reindeer now dominate front yards across Australia, despite the cognitive dissonance of a inflatable snowman wilting in 38 degree heat. Some families have been known to spend thousands of dollars on these monstrosities, creating front yard displays that look less like Christmas and more like a bizarre carnival.The real casualties are the people who just want a quiet Christmas. Imagine trying to sleep when your neighbour has installed a light display synchronised to music that plays Jingle Bells on repeat from dusk till midnight. Or discovering that your street has become a tourist destination because someone three doors down has recreated the North Pole complete with animatronic elves.The competitive spirit extends to councils, with some regional towns holding official Christmas decoration competitions. This has led to entire streets coordinating their displays, creating zones where the collective electricity consumption could probably power a small village.Only in Australia could Christmas lunch be interrupted by a snake in the pool, a huntsman spider in the salad, or a kangaroo helping itself to the pavlova. The combination of outdoor celebrations and Australian wildlife creates situations that would seem absurd anywhere else but are just accepted as normal here.One family in regional Victoria reported returning from Christmas church service to find a wombat had somehow got into their house and eaten half the Christmas ham. Another household in Queensland discovered a carpet python had taken up residence in their Christmas tree, apparently attracted by the warmth of the lights.Magpies, those terror birds of the Australian suburbs, don't take Christmas off. Many families have stories of swooping magpies disrupting backyard cricket games or stealing food directly off plates during outdoor lunches. One particularly bold magpie in Canberra became locally famous for specifically targeting people carrying seafood, leading to several prawn related incidents.In coastal areas, seagulls present an even greater menace. These brazen birds have been known to conduct coordinated raids on beachside Christmas picnics, with some families reporting losing entire pavlovas to aerial attacks. The sight of someone running down the beach chasing a seagull that has stolen their Christmas lunch has become an unofficial symbol of Australian Christmas.Then there are the possums. Nocturnal and curious, they have been known to investigate indoor Christmas trees through open windows, knock over outdoor decorations and generally create chaos. One family in Adelaide woke on Christmas morning to find a possum had climbed down their chimney, got into the house and destroyed the presents under the tree whilst apparently searching for food.

The Australian summer barbecue is a sacred institution. Whether it's a casual afternoon with mates, a Christmas gathering with extended family, or a birthday party, the barbecue brings Australians together. But hosting or attending one comes with its own challenges when temperatures are pushing 40 degrees and everyone's hot and tired before things even start.Timing makes all the difference.Midday barbecues in January are exercises in heat endurance.Start earlier in the late morning or wait until late afternoon when the worst of the heat has passed.Evening barbecues that kick off around 5pm or 6pm catch the cooler part of the day and can roll into the evening as temperatures drop.Your guests will actually enjoy themselves rather than just surviving the heat.Setting up requires strategic thinking.Put your barbecue in a shaded spot if possible, or at least position it so the cook isn't standing in direct sun the entire time.Shade sails, marquees, or big umbrellas create comfortable zones where people can gather without baking.Set up seating in shaded areas, and if you don't have natural shade, invest in some portable shade structures.Your backyard might look like a refugee camp, but your guests will thank you.Water, water everywhere. Have a cooler full of ice and water easily accessible from the moment people arrive.Keep refilling it throughout the day.People need constant reminders to drink water at summer barbecues because they get distracted by conversation and food.Put water bottles in ice buckets around the yard so people don't have to walk far to grab one.The classic esky full of beer is fine, but it shouldn't be the only cold drink option.Food safety becomes critical in extreme heat.Meat, salads with mayo or dairy, and anything that can spoil needs to stay cold until it's time to cook or eat.Use coolers with ice packs and keep them in the shade with the lids closed as much as possible.Don't leave food sitting out on tables in the sun.Bring dishes out in stages rather than all at once.That potato salad sitting in 40-degree heat for three hours is a food poisoning case waiting to happen.Flies are the bane of every Australian summer barbecue.They're relentless, disgusting, and seemingly immune to every deterrent ever invented.Covered food containers and mesh food tents help.Position fans strategically because flies struggle in moving air.Fly paper strips and traps reduce numbers but won't eliminate them completely.Accept that some flies will land on the food and don't look too closely at what's happening on the sausages before they're cooked.Hot temperatures kill most nasties anyway. Menu planning matters more in summer heat.Heavy, rich foods are less appealing when everyone's sweltering.Lighter options like salads, seafood, and chicken work better than slabs of steak and sausages, though you still need to provide those because it's Australia.Cold dishes that don't require last-minute heating keep the kitchen cooler.Fruit platters, cold pasta salads, coleslaw, and fresh bread are crowd-pleasers that don't heat up your kitchen.Vegetarian and dietary requirement options can't be an afterthought.At least a quarter of Australians now identify as vegetarian, vegan, or flexitarian, and food allergies and intolerances are increasingly common.Having actual vegetarian options beyond a token salad shows respect for your guests. Veggie burgers, grilled vegetables, falafel, and marinated tofu can all go on the barbecue.Keep them separate from the meat to avoid cross-contamination for vegetarians and people with religious dietary restrictions.The barbecue itself requires preparation before guests arrive. Clean it properly because last month's burnt-on grease isn't adding flavour, it's adding carcinogens.Check your gas bottle has enough fuel.Running out of gas halfway through cooking is embarrassing and leaves people standing around hungry while you race to the servo for a refill.Have spare gas if you're cooking for a large group.Preheat the barbecue properly so meat sears instead of steaming.Oil the grill grates to prevent sticking. Cooking meat properly matters both for taste and safety.Don't keep turning it every 30 seconds.Let it cook on one side, then flip it once.Constant turning makes meat tough and dry.Use tongs or a spatula, never a fork, because piercing meat releases its juices.Have separate sets of tongs for raw and cooked meat to avoid cross-contamination.Cook chicken and pork thoroughly, cook beef and lamb to your preference, but always err on the side of caution if you're cooking for others.Timing dishes so everything's ready together takes practice. Start items that take longest first. If you're doing both meat and vegetables, cook vegetables on a cooler part of the barbecue or use foil trays. Have serving platters ready so cooked food doesn't sit on the barbecue drying out.Keep cooked food warm under foil if necessary, but don't leave it sitting in hot conditions for long.Ice cream desserts are quintessentially Australian summer barbecue fare.Keep ice cream in the freezer until the last possible minute.Have a separate cooler just for dessert if you're serving ice cream or frozen treats.Set up a toppings station with sauces, sprinkles, and fruit.Don't underestimate how much ice cream people will eat at a summer barbecue.Buy more than you think you need because running out is disappointing.Alcohol management requires responsibility.Provide plenty of non-alcoholic options including cold water, juice, soft drink, and mocktails.Don't pressure people to drink alcohol. Make sure anyone who's been drinking doesn't drive home.Have contact numbers for local taxi services or ride-share apps ready.If you're hosting, you're partly responsible for your guests' safety, including after they leave.Entertainment for kids prevents boredom and meltdowns. Set up a paddling pool or run the sprinkler for them to play in.Water balloons, water pistols, and slip-and-slides keep kids occupied for hours. Have sunscreen stationed near water play areas and make sure kids are reapplying regularly. Freeze ice blocks the day before for a ready-made treat that keeps kids cool.Set up shaded play areas because kids burn quickly in direct sun. Music sets the mood but shouldn't dominate conversation. Create a playlist in advance that suits your crowd. Keep the volume at a level where people can talk without shouting. Consider your neighbours and local noise regulations, especially if your barbecue runs into the evening. Nothing ends neighbourly relations faster than loud music late on a Sunday afternoon when people are trying to relax or put their own kids to bed. Seating arrangements matter more than people think. Mix up friendship groups to encourage mingling. Keep older relatives and young parents closer to facilities. Put the social butterflies near the action and the quieter guests in comfortable spots where they can observe without being in the thick of things.Have more seating than you think you need because someone always brings extra people. Clean up doesn't need to be a solo mission. Encourage guests to use bins rather than leaving rubbish everywhere. Have clearly marked bins for rubbish and recycling. Put bin bags in strategic locations. Enlist a couple of trusted friends or family members to help with the main cleanup after everyone leaves. Accept that you won't get everything done that night. Do the essentials like putting away perishable food, and tackle the rest the next day when you're not exhausted. Safety remains paramount throughout. Never leave the barbecue unattended while it's lit. Keep kids and pets away from the hot barbecue. Have a fire extinguisher or bucket of water nearby. Check that the gas is completely off when you're finished. Let the barbecue cool completely before covering or storing it. More garage fires start from people putting cover on barbecues that weren't fully cooled than most people realise. Sunburn happens even at late-afternoon barbecues. Have extra sunscreen available for guests who forgot theirs. Set up shaded zones where people can escape the sun. Watch for signs that people are struggling with the heat including red faces, excessive sweating, dizziness, or seeming unusually tired. Have a cool, air-conditioned space inside where people can retreat if needed. The best summer barbecues aren't about perfect food or immaculate presentation. They're about bringing people together, sharing good times, and creating memories. Keep expectations realistic, prepare as much as you can in advance, stay flexible when things don't go to plan, and remember that everyone's hot and tired in January. A relaxed host makes for relaxed guests. Focus on the company rather than stressing about details, and your summer barbecue will be a success regardless of whether the potato salad was Instagram-worthy or you burnt a few sausages.

"Fifty eight years ago Bill Butcher of Booroorban started a trend, which took some years before it was" "accepted by the locals, and today is part and parcel of Australian rural life. He pioneered stock mustering on a motor- cycle in 1937, much to the disgust of dis- trict drovers. 'It was an insult to a stockman, mustering on wheels instead of on horseback," he said. "The old-time drovers were disgusted, stock- men were insulted and I even received a punch on the nose from one of them, he was that wild with me! "But I didn't like horses - still don't. You'd be out in the paddock, miles away from home and when you look up from what you were doing, there's the horse walking home. Bikes don't walk away like that "By the time you got the horse ready, the job could be done "Bill’s first motorcycle was a Velocette two- stroke. He later progressed to an Indian side- car which had room for the tuckerbox and dog. It took a while before others followed his""Some did have bikes in those days, but they never went off the road. They only used them to get the mail. "It wasn't until after the war when labour became scarce that others started using motor- bikes for mustering." Bill Butcher's parents moved to Booroorban in 1928 when they bought the Royal Mail Hotel. "We went there because the railway was coming and Booroorban was going to boom," he remembers. "The rail line was to be extended from Hay to Deniliquin, but the Depression put a stop to that. "The pegs are still at ‘Elmsleigh’." Born in Deniliquin where his parents owned the former Bendigo Pub and a dairy property, he went to school at Booligal when the family moved there in 1923 to buy the Duke of Edinburgh Hotel. "I will never forget the day when Parliament House opened in 1927. The only person in Booligal who had a wireless was the Postmaster. He invited the whole school to the Post Office to hear the opening broadcast."“almighty cheer from the girls - who had been watching us all along. “I also remember our teacher at Booligal, Mr. Hammond. It was my turn to knock off his tobacco, which we smoked in the boys’ toilet. We got caught, and as punishment, my father sat me down with a big cigar and made me smoke it. Didn’t I get crook. At first I thought it was wonderful and puffed and puffed away. I couldn’t finish, and it didn’t stop me smoking either.“We got caught out badly at Deniliquin too. A group of us used to smoke at the goods shed on our way home from school. “On this particular day the storeman saw smoke coming from the shed, thought it was on fire and called the fire station. That was in the early 1920’s. We were hiding under the platform, which was made of slats. Through those slats we heard the fire engine coming up the street and then heard it stopping very nearby. We still didn’t realise what was going on. “Then we heard the voices coming closer. “One of the voices belonged to my father – the fire-captain! They were standing virtually on top of us, wondering where the smoke was coming from. “Then, out came the torch. Panels were lifted. We were trapped. “We were found. “Even that didn’t stop me from smoking. “Thinking back, what did stop me was my mother falling off her chair. “When we had nothing to smoke, we would cut three inches of cane off the chair. One day mother went and sat in the chair and crashed to the ground. “There was very little cane left. The sight of mother falling to the ground cured me!”,,Bill was working around Booroorban at the time of the Headless Horseman, a legend which still lives on around the Black Swamp area. “The Headless Horseman was a local who had put a hurricane light on the top of his head and placed a sheet over it. He then tore into the cattle. It only happened once, but the legend lived on because the Cobb & Co drivers kept it alive by talking about mystery lights they had seen at the Black Swamp.”He also remembers the heroic efforts of Booroorban mail driver, Mrs. Carry Edwards, whose motto was - the mail must get through. “What a remarkable woman she was. “The bravest thing I saw during the 1944-45 drought was Carry heading off with her horses, with 65 gates to open between Booroorban and Jeraly, often on her own. “Her horses were poor, they had no feed, but the mail always got through. “Thinking back, the good old days were when we were young and stayed busy.“I remember at Booligal it was our job to get the town cows in, and if you put the calves in for the storekeeper, you got two lollies. “I remember this particular day the cattle were all over the Lachlan. So we stripped off and got the cows in, but when we returned to the river bank, our clothes were gone! “We immediately suspected the Nicholson girls. “So with no clothes and no shoes on, we walked two and a half miles to where we reckoned they would have hidden our gear. Sure enough, there were our clothes neatly stacked. “We were walking amongst the trees, so as not to be seen, but in order to get to our clothes, we had to leave the trees and go out into the open. I drew the short straw, covered myself with leaves and dashed for the pile of clothes. But when I bent down to pick them up, I dropped the leaves and with that there was an,Bill will celebrate his 80th birthday on Saturday. He still musters sheep on a motor bike, nearly 60 years after pioneering that form of mustering with his two-stroke Velocette, and getting a punch on the nose from an insulted drover. “Now looking back over the years, the most important thing I have done in my life was to get married, settle down and raise a family. “That is what life is all about, making a home.”

The Australian Christmas dinner occupies a unique place in our festive traditions, somehow managing to honour imported customs while adapting to the reality of scorching summer heat. Whether you're hosting Christmas lunch for the first time or you're a seasoned hand at feeding the extended family, getting the menu right makes all the difference between a relaxed celebration and a stressful day in a sweltering kitchen.The traditional roast turkey and baked ham certainly have their place, and many families wouldn't dream of Christmas without them, but the key to summer entertaining is flexibility and smart planning. Consider doing most of your hot cooking early in the morning before the temperature climbs, or even the day before. A ham cooked on Christmas Eve and served cold is every bit as delicious as one fresh from the oven, and it frees you up to actually enjoy your guests rather than being stuck inside while everyone else relaxes outdoors.Seafood has become an Australian Christmas staple for good reason. Prawns require minimal preparation, they're best served cold, and they feel appropriately festive without heating up your kitchen. Local seafood suppliers usually take Christmas orders well in advance, so get your name down early if you're planning to serve prawns, oysters, or crayfish. Remember that seafood needs to be kept properly chilled right up until serving time, so have your esky ready with plenty of ice if your fridge space is limited.Salads deserve more credit than they often receive at Christmas. A well-composed salad can be the star of the meal rather than just a side dish, and they're infinitely adaptable to whatever looks good at the market and whatever your guests prefer. Traditional potato salad and coleslaw certainly have their fans, but consider branching out with roasted vegetable salads that can be served at room temperature, grain salads with fresh herbs, or vibrant green salads with seasonal fruit. The beauty of salads is that many can be prepared in advance with just the dressing added at the last minute.Dessert in an Australian summer calls for something cooling rather than heavy. Pavlova has earned its place as the iconic Australian Christmas dessert, offering a perfect combination of crisp meringue, soft cream, and fresh fruit. If you're nervous about making pavlova, practice once before the big day, and remember that even if it cracks or weeps a little, it will still taste delicious once you pile on the cream and berries. Trifle is another excellent make-ahead option that feeds a crowd without requiring any last-minute attention, and ice cream with fresh fruit salad is simple but always welcome when temperatures soar.Drinks require as much thought as food when you're hosting in summer. Have far more cold water available than you think you'll need, and consider making up jugs of iced tea, lemonade, or fruit-infused water for non-drinkers and children. If you're serving alcohol, remember that people drink more in hot weather, often without realising how much they've consumed. Make sure there are plenty of attractive non-alcoholic options available, and be prepared to call taxis or arrange accommodation if needed.The practical realities of country entertaining often mean working with limited fridge space, so plan your menu accordingly. Foods that can sit safely at room temperature for a while, dishes that can be served from an esky, and items that don't require last-minute cooking all make your life easier. If you're really short on fridge space, consider borrowing an extra fridge or esky from friends, or asking guests to bring their drinks in coolers.Dietary requirements have become more common and more varied in recent years, so it's worth checking with your guests well in advance about allergies, intolerances, and preferences. Having at least one substantial vegetarian option ensures everyone can eat well, and being prepared for gluten-free or dairy-free needs shows thoughtfulness that your guests will appreciate. Most Christmas foods can be adapted relatively easily, and it's far better to plan ahead than to have someone sitting at your table with nothing they can eat.The timing of your Christmas meal makes a real difference to how enjoyable the day is for everyone, including the cook. Many Australian families have shifted away from a traditional midday dinner to either a late lunch around two or three in the afternoon, or even an evening meal when the worst heat has passed. This gives everyone a chance to open presents in the morning, have a swim or a rest during the hottest part of the day, and then come together when it's more comfortable to eat. There's no rule that says Christmas lunch must happen at noon, especially when noon might be the hottest, most uncomfortable time of day.Presentation matters, but it doesn't have to be complicated. Fresh herbs, edible flowers from the garden, and seasonal fruit all make beautiful, simple garnishes. Use your best serving platters and dishes, even if they don't match perfectly, and don't stress about making everything look like it came from a magazine. The most important thing is that the food is fresh, safely prepared, and served with generosity.Perhaps the best advice for planning an Australian Christmas feast is to choose dishes you're confident making rather than trying complicated new recipes on the day. Christmas is stressful enough without attempting a dish you've never made before while also managing family dynamics and summer heat. Save the culinary experiments for a quieter time, and stick with recipes you know work well. Your guests would much rather have simple food served by a relaxed host than an elaborate menu from someone who's too stressed to enjoy the day.

Regional Australian towns take Christmas celebrations to wonderfully endearing extremes. In some communities, the arrival of Santa on a fire truck has become such serious business that planning begins in October. Arguments have been known to break out over the route Santa should take through town.One regional NSW town holds an annual Christmas parade that features Santa arriving on a boat, despite being several hundred kilometres from the coast. Another community insists on a traditional Christmas pageant complete with fake snow, which melts into a sticky mess within minutes in the summer heat but continues because "tradition is tradition".The town of Goolgowi once held a Christmas barbecue that was so large it required multiple barbecues running simultaneously and became an unofficial competition to see who could cook the most sausages. The event grew so big it had to be moved to the showgrounds. Nearby towns, naturally, became jealous and started their own mega barbecues, leading to an unspoken rivalry over who hosts the best Christmas sausage sizzle.In some remote communities, Christmas is the one time of year when everyone who has moved away returns, temporarily doubling or tripling the population. This creates logistical nightmares for the local pub, which suddenly has to serve crowds it is not equipped to handle. Stories of people waiting hours for a Christmas beer are common, but somehow this becomes part of the charm.The phenomenon of Christmas in July events in regional areas adds another layer of absurdity. Towns that experience scorching Decembers have decided to celebrate a "proper" Christmas in the middle of winter, complete with roast dinners, hot puddings and people wearing ridiculous festive jumpers. Some communities now put more effort into their July Christmas than their actual Christmas.Australian families attempting to visit relatives for Christmas face challenges that would make northern hemisphere travellers weep. Driving eight hours across the outback in 45 degree heat with children asking "are we there yet" every five minutes is a special kind of torture.Every year, families breakdown on remote highways in the middle of nowhere on Christmas Eve, leading to roadside celebrations that become family legends. One family spent Christmas Day 2017 waiting for a tow truck in Cobar, eating melted chocolates and warm soft drink whilst sitting in the shade of their broken down car. They now refer to it as "the Cobar Christmas" and claim it was the most memorable one they have had.Flights home for Christmas are notoriously expensive, leading to bizarre situations where people fly to Bali for less than it would cost to fly from Sydney to Perth. Some Australians have been known to schedule "accidentally" being overseas for Christmas to avoid both the expense and obligation of family gatherings.Regional airports during the Christmas period are chaotic. Small terminals designed for a handful of daily flights suddenly deal with hundreds of people trying to get home, leading to queues stretching outside and delays that would make city airports blush. The sight of someone trying to carry a surfboard, presents and a Esky through a crowded regional airport has become iconically Australian.Then there are the families who attempt caravan trips for Christmas, towing their homes behind them across vast distances. Arguments about who failed to pack the tent pegs or forgot to fill the water tank have ruined more than one family Christmas. Some rest stops along major highways see temporary communities form on Christmas Eve as caravanners pull over for the night.No discussion of Australian Christmas is complete without acknowledging the sacred tradition of backyard cricket. What starts as a casual game after lunch inevitably becomes a fiercely competitive championship with complex rules, disputed decisions and occasional family feuds.The wicket is usually a bin or eskimo bin. The bat is whatever is handy, sometimes an actual cricket bat but often a plastic toy or even a thong. The ball might be a tennis ball, a cricket ball if people are feeling brave, or in desperate circumstances a rolled up ball of tape. Boundaries are defined by landmarks like "past the lemon tree is four runs" or "hitting the shed is six and out".Arguments about whether someone was caught behind or if the ball hit the wicket are inevitable. Family members take sides, old grudges resurface, and what started as a friendly game can quickly escalate into something resembling tribal warfare. Children cry. Adults argue. Someone always claims the rules are being changed mid game to favour the other team.The real controversy comes when a ball goes over the fence into the neighbour's yard. Retrieving it often reveals several other balls from previous years, leading to the question of whether they are still playable or have degraded too much. Some families have been known to maintain poor relationships with neighbours entirely due to backyard cricket related incidents.Heat plays a significant factor. By mid afternoon on Christmas Day, temperatures can be extreme, leading to players abandoning the game to jump in the pool, then returning wet to continue playing. The combination of wet hands, a slippery ball and competitive spirits has resulted in numerous Christmas Day injuries requiring medical attention.

A 50-year-old man has faced court charged with five offences following an alleged public place shooting in Menindee last month.Barrier Police District officers were investigating a series of incidents in the community when they began inquiries into the alleged shooting, which occurred about 11pm on Saturday, November 8. Police were told four people were travelling in a vehicle in Menindee when they heard a firearm being discharged nearby. No one was injured in the incident.Following their investigations, officers executed a Firearms Prohibition Search at an address on Bear Street about 9.15pm on Tuesday, December 16, where they allegedly located and seized ammunition. A crime scene was established at the property and forensic examinations were conducted.The man was arrested at a unit in Broken Hill on Tuesday and taken to Broken Hill Police Station, where he was charged. He appeared before the Local Bail Division – Court 4 on Wednesday, December 18.

Australia's summer heat creates real challenges for people who work outdoors or in poorly ventilated spaces. Whether you're on a building site, working in warehouses, doing farm work, or in any role that exposes you to high temperatures, understanding how to work safely in heat isn't just about comfort, it's about survival. Workers in Australia have rights when it comes to working in extreme heat. Under work health and safety legislation, employers have a duty of care to provide a safe working environment. This includes managing heat-related risks. If your workplace is unreasonably hot and your employer isn't taking steps to manage the risk, that's a workplace safety issue you can raise with your health and safety representative or your union. Acclimatisation matters more than most people realise. Your body needs time to adjust to working in heat. If you're starting a new outdoor job, returning to work after time off, or the season has suddenly turned hot, you need a gradual introduction to working in high temperatures. Smart employers implement acclimatisation programs where new workers or those returning from leave start with shorter periods in the heat and gradually increase over one to two weeks. Your body becomes more efficient at cooling itself, but only if given time to adapt. Hydration starts before you arrive at work. Drink at least 500 millilitres of water in the hour before starting work in hot conditions. During work, drink water regularly whether you feel thirsty or not. As a general rule, aim for a cup of water every 15 to 20 minutes when working in heat. That's about 750 millilitres per hour. Sports drinks help replace electrolytes for people sweating heavily, but water should be your primary fluid. Your employer must provide an adequate supply of cool drinking water. If they're not, that's a serious safety violation. Checking your hydration status is simple. Your urine should be pale yellow. If it's dark yellow or amber, you're dehydrated. If you're not urinating regularly despite drinking water, that's also a warning sign. Monitoring your weight before and after work shifts can indicate fluid loss. Losing more than 2 percent of your body weight through sweat means you're not drinking enough during work. Clothing choices make a huge difference. Light-coloured clothing reflects heat rather than absorbing it. Loose-fitting clothes allow air circulation around your body and help sweat evaporate. Natural fibres like cotton breathe better than synthetic materials. Long sleeves and long pants might seem counterintuitive in heat, but they protect against sunburn and actually keep you cooler than exposed skin in extreme conditions. Wide-brimmed hats are mandatory for outdoor work. Hard hats with brim attachments or inserts protect your head while providing sun protection. Sunscreen is essential for outdoor workers. You need SPF 50 plus broad-spectrum water-resistant sunscreen applied 20 minutes before sun exposure and reapplied every two hours. Your employer should provide sunscreen free of charge. Sweating, wiping your face, and wearing PPE can remove sunscreen, so reapply more frequently if needed. Outdoor workers have significantly higher rates of skin cancer than the general population. Protecting yourself now prevents serious health problems decades later. Work scheduling should account for heat. Starting earlier to complete heavy work before the hottest part of the day makes sense. Taking extended breaks during peak heat between 11am and 3pm reduces heat exposure. Rotating workers through hot and cooler tasks spreads the heat load. Increasing the frequency and length of breaks when temperatures soar isn't about being soft, it's about preventing heat illness that costs far more in medical bills and lost productivity than a few extra breaks. Rest breaks need to be in genuinely cool or shaded areas. Sitting in the sun or in a hot vehicle isn't a proper break. Employers should provide shaded rest areas with seating, fans, and cool drinking water. Air-conditioned spaces are ideal for breaks during extreme heat. During breaks, remove heavy PPE if safe to do so, loosen tight clothing, drink water, and use cold wet towels on your head and neck to cool down. Recognising heat illness symptoms in yourself and coworkers could save lives. Early warning signs include heavy sweating, weakness, dizziness, nausea, headache, muscle cramps, and irritability. If you or a coworker experiences these symptoms, stop work immediately, move to a cool area, rest, and drink water. These symptoms are your body's warning system that you're struggling with the heat. Heat exhaustion progresses from early symptoms to include pale clammy skin, rapid weak pulse, fainting, and vomiting. Someone with heat exhaustion needs to stop work completely, move to a cool environment, lie down with legs elevated, remove excess clothing, and drink cool water. They should not return to work that day. Heat exhaustion is serious and requires monitoring because it can progress to heat stroke. Heat stroke is a medical emergency. Symptoms include extremely high body temperature above 40 degrees, hot dry skin or sometimes continued sweating, rapid strong pulse, confusion, seizures, or loss of consciousness. Heat stroke can kill quickly. Call triple zero immediately. While waiting for medical help, move the person to the coolest place possible and use every means available to cool them including cold water, ice packs, fans, and removing clothing. This is life-threatening and requires urgent medical treatment. Certain workers face higher risks in heat. Older workers, people with chronic health conditions, those taking certain medications, people who are overweight, and workers who are unfit have reduced heat tolerance. New workers and those returning after absence haven't acclimatised. Young workers might push themselves beyond safe limits. Workers on certain medications including antihistamines, blood pressure medications, and some mental health medications have reduced heat tolerance. These workers need additional monitoring and may require modified duties during extreme heat. Physical workload directly affects heat stress. Heavy physical work generates internal body heat that adds to the environmental heat. Tasks requiring heavy lifting, prolonged standing, bending, or climbing generate more heat than light work. Work pace matters too. Rushing through tasks in heat increases heat generation and heat stress. Slowing down during hot conditions isn't lazy, it's smart and safe. Mechanical aids reduce physical workload and heat generation. Using machinery, trolleys, or lifting equipment instead of manual handling reduces the physical effort required. Better work planning that eliminates unnecessary movement or double handling reduces heat exposure. Providing adequate tools and equipment so workers aren't struggling with inadequate gear reduces frustration and physical effort. Workplace design influences heat exposure. Metal roofs without insulation create unbearable working conditions. Inadequate ventilation traps hot air. Dark-coloured buildings and work surfaces absorb and radiate heat. Employers can improve conditions with insulation, ventilation systems, evaporative coolers, air conditioning, shade structures, and reflective coatings on roofs and walls. These aren't luxuries, they're safety measures. Communication about heat stress should be open and ongoing. Workers shouldn't fear speaking up about struggling with heat. Creating a workplace culture where admitting you need a break or more water is acceptable rather than seen as weakness saves lives. Supervisors should be trained to recognise heat illness symptoms and empower workers to stop work if conditions become unsafe. Emergency response plans should exist for heat illness. Designated first aiders should know how to recognise and treat heat illness. First aid supplies should include items for heat treatment. Communication systems need to work in all areas so help can be summoned quickly. Evacuation plans should account for moving someone experiencing heat illness safely. Personal responsibility matters too. Coming to work already dehydrated, hungover, or sleep-deprived reduces your heat tolerance. What you do outside work affects your ability to work safely in heat. Getting adequate sleep, eating properly, moderating alcohol consumption, and staying hydrated outside work hours all contribute to heat tolerance at work. Working in Australian summer heat is challenging and sometimes dangerous. But with proper precautions, adequate hydration, appropriate breaks, suitable clothing, and everyone taking responsibility for safety, it's manageable. Heat illness is preventable. Deaths from heat stroke at work are tragedies that shouldn't happen. If your workplace isn't managing heat appropriately, speak up. Your life and the lives of your coworkers depend on working safely in heat, not just pushing through regardless of conditions. Heat kills, but it doesn't have to.

Griffith City Council is inviting the community to have their say on the first stage of planned enhancements for the Griffith CBD, with a draft concept plan now on public exhibition.The proposed works aim to improve the look, feel and functionality of the city centre and will focus on four key components in Stage One:Roundabout and median strip beautificationMemorial Gardens entrance improvementsModification of and additional tree lighting in Banna AvenuePower and data upgrades to support events and future infrastructureAt its November meeting, Council’s Roads, Parks and Pathways Enhancement Committee endorsed the draft concept design to progress to public exhibition, giving residents, businesses and visitors the opportunity to provide feedback by 4pm on Friday 27 February 2026.Griffith Mayor, Councillor Doug Curran said the project is about creating a more welcoming and vibrant city centre for everyone.“We’ve heard loud and clear that we need to make improvements to our CBD. We want to hear directly from our community about what they’d like to see, because their ideas will help shape the final outcome,” he said.“There are some non-negotiables due to the grant application but there is also a very good chance to guide Council in the desired outcomes.”The project is supported by a $3 million allocation through the NSW Sustainable Communities Program Early Investment Round, a funding initiative aimed at supporting Southern Basin local government areas most impacted by water recovery measures.Council is seeking community feedback on preferred design themes, particularly around landscaping options for roundabouts and median strips. The concept plan presents a range of options including native plantings, low maintenance succulents and mixed vegetation styles. The plant species shown are examples only, with all options suitable for the Griffith climate.The Memorial Gardens entrance concept includes improved shade over the Rotary tiled panels to reduce fading, while the lighting upgrades propose the servicing of existing fairy lights and installation of lighting in additional trees along Banna Avenue.Community members can view the concept plan and submit their feedback and ideas at: https://connect.griffith.nsw.gov.au