Author: Columnist on Milton Today

It opened like a front bar on a Sunday morning: people leaning in, swapping notes about work and weather, prices and patience. From Brisbane’s flight path to snowy Perisher and the salt air at Tathra, the calls piled up into a portrait of Australia right now — inventive, weary, funny, stubborn, hopeful.

“It’s Like a City With No Petrol Stations”

Brendan, under Brisbane’s early-morning freighter traffic, runs a cottage industry with a grand title and a very hands-on reality: boutique spare parts for personal electric vehicles. “About twenty percent goes to the States,” he said — a market that can’t get parts thanks to tariff tangles. “It’s like having a whole lot of cars and no petrol stations.” He does it largely alone: “Had someone last week work one day and never came back.”

Macca riffed on prices doing the long march upward — the $20 litre of oil, the coffee that’s quietly dearer, the grocery total that no longer makes sense. “We’re earning more,” he said, “but the money doesn’t buy nearly as much.”

The Beach That’s Beautiful Until It Isn’t

Down in Loch Sport, Steve had a fisherman’s bulletin from Ninety Mile Beach: spring is the crankiest season — wind, a slick of fine weed that makes casting a farce. His YouTube channel Steve Outside posts a Friday weekend outlook and a Tuesday mid-week update. “If you’re driving two or three hours,” he said, “you’d like to know before you go.” He’s walked other long beaches, too — Eighty Mile Beach in WA — but he knows when to tell people to stay home.

UV Light and Underground Rivers

Jason’s crew had come up from Victoria to reline Ipswich stormwater pipes — 375, 600, 675 millimetre mains. “We pull a fibreglass liner in, inflate it, then cook it with UV,” he said. Rain can stop a whole day’s work. He’s noticed something else: “You don’t see rubbish on the roads up here. In Melbourne, it’s truckloads.” Sunday was the day off: a designated-driver run to Kingaroy with his brothers. Between jobs he hunts for Tillandsias — air plants that cling to trees and power lines, “no soil, no roots,” a small, stubborn kind of magic.

Strawberries Don’t Taste the Same Anymore

A throwaway lament — “Why don’t strawberries taste anymore?” — turned into a proper paddock-to-plate reckoning. Doug Moore, once a Navy clearance diver, grew strawberries through the 1980s. He remembers NSW’s lethal yellow disease and the scramble at the Gosford research station to find clean plant stock. In came selector varieties — including lines imported from South Africa — that solved one problem and created another. “They picked for keeping quality,” Doug said. “Not sweetness.”

That choice echoes down the cold aisle today: big, glossy fruit that can ride a truck and sit in a fridge, but rarely sing on the tongue. Doug’s rule of thumb is old-fashioned and accurate: pick or buy to eat today or tomorrow. Beyond that, you’re bargaining with texture, sugar and scent.

Callers added their fieldcraft. Gail in Melbourne said she watches with her nose: “If you can’t smell it, don’t buy it.” Macca linked it to roses and tomatoes — breed for beauty and travel and you bleed away the thing itself. And later, Rick — a grower straddling the Yarra Valley and Queensland — gave the production view: tunnels and hot houses let you coax softer, sweeter fruit, but outdoor crops often need tougher skins to survive. “Some of the best-tasting varieties are harder to grow,” he said. “Keep buying though — the Victorian season’s on and I need the income.”

The strawberry became a metaphor for half the morning: cost-of-living, trade barriers, design choices that travel well but land thin. What’s the premium now — flavour or logistics?

Hay Like Money in the Bank

On the Fleurieu Peninsula, Taz called between bales: half the usual rainfall, perfectly timed, and the shed is filling fast. “Hay in the hay shed is money in the bank,” he said, channelling his grandfather. At 70, he’s still camp-drafting — “a disease” he laughs — sorting a beast from the mob and running a clover-leaf pattern around pegs in 40 seconds. The family worries. He saddles up anyway. “You only live once, mate.”

Sugar, Flood Debris and a Thin Labour Line

In Ingham, Pino Lenza started at 3 a.m. with daughter Zara and young Preston. The harvester eats cane and, this year, whatever the floods left behind: kegs, pods, 44-gallon drums, timber. Miss a scrap and it jams in the base cutters. He’s short of reliable hands and thinks seasonal workers should have a different tax bracket so they can follow the harvests without getting smashed on PAYG. Costs? “Since COVID, everything just keeps going up — tyres, engine oil, filters, labour.” Sugar prices are ordinary. Break-even is a good week.

White Roofs at Perisher, A Stage at Tathra

Photo Credit: Tathra Hotel

Cliff looked out over Perisher Valley: roofs sugared white after a snap change. After 35 years at The Sundeck — the country’s highest hotel — he’s sold and turned to the coast, where the Tathra Hotel now has a pocket-sized theatre. He invited Macca to play. “I’ve written that down,” Macca said — the kind of promise that turns into a community night within months.

Letters from Everywhere

The inbox sounded like a town meeting: Spotify up to $15.99, Adobe up 11% (“the dollar”), arguments for the old BOM layout at reg.bom.gov.au, and a nod to Weather Chaser founders Kath and Paul Barrett in Frankston for building clearer radar tools when users got lost in the redesign. Brett in SA pointed at the trade shortage: “Why would you do an apprenticeship when you can make $72/hour pulling beers on a public holiday?” Another note listed the four aluminium smelters — Tomago, Bell Bay, Boyne, Portland — just to set the record straight.

The Bells of Remembrance

Noel Bridge wrote from the Hawkesbury, rallying churches — St Matthew’s in Windsor (our oldest Anglican church), Ebenezer Uniting (1809), Windsor, Richmond, Kurrajong Heights — to toll their bells until 10:59 a.m., then fall silent for the 11 a.m. minute. Macca replayed historian Les Carlyon, who gently pressed a truth we often duck: 8,700 Australians died at Gallipoli; over 50,000 fell on the Western Front. If memory were proportional, Remembrance Day might eclipse Anzac Day. But myth, like a strawberry variety, is something we once chose — and now live inside.

“Larry” to Christchurch

Harness-racing lifer Kevin Seymour rang from WA en route to Christchurch. His pacer Leap to Fame — “Larry” — is the richest Australian pacer ever, nudging $4.7 million, eclipsing Blacks A Fake. The New Zealand Cup is two miles at Addington, a 25,000-person day with a field that includes Republican Party, Merlin, and Kingman. There’s even an AI-generated song about Larry by Robert Marshall. “My wife heard it and burst into tears,” Kevin said. The talk slid, as it must, to what AI means for real songwriters — clever tools that remix the world, and the uneasy theft some artists feel.

Guitars, Break-ins and the Line in the Sand

Nigel Foote came down from Blackheath with two Martin guitars and a story: a dawn break-in, a Holden Commodore with “GUITAR” plates gone in seconds, the keys later found in another stolen car. The cop’s bleak comfort: Commodores are theft magnets now that Holden’s closed and parts are scarce. Nigel played “Both Sides Now” like a benediction anyway — proof that one thing AI still can’t counterfeit is the air moving in a room when a human hand makes a string sing.

A caller named Susan said it plainly: “What AI does is steal from every artist’s life’s work.” Macca’s line in the sand was simple: live. Be in the room. Know it’s real.

Ordinary Sunday Doing Extraordinary Things

A ten-year-old named Ily from Mansfield — a student at Mansfield Steiner School — tucked a phone under her mum Fenella’s elbow and played “Down by the Sally Gardens” on the violin. She busks sometimes and once made $102 in a session. Asked why she plays, she shrugged through the line: “I just do it for fun.”

And there it was again — the strawberry test for everything: if you can smell it, it’s worth taking home; if you can hear it in the room, it’s worth remembering.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: ‘Australia All Over’ is a program produced and broadcast by the ABC Local Radio Network and hosted by Ian McNamara. Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara, the ABC, or the ‘Australia All Over’ program. This weekly review is an independent summary based on publicly available episodes. All original content and recordings remain the property of the ABC. Our summaries are written in our own words and are intended for commentary and review purposes only. Readers can listen to the full episodes via the official ABC platforms.

It was another Sunday stitched together the Macca way — easy, curious, and full of life. From Nhulunbuy’s tropical edge to the cool valleys of Yackandandah and the wheat fields of Brookton, callers chimed in with stories of travel, work, music and memory. There were yarns about old cars and missing church bells, about vineyards, fiddles and faraway cemeteries, all bound by the familiar warmth of voices meeting in the early morning.

Dave from Nhulunbuy

The morning began in Arnhem Land, where Dave Mitchell rang from Nhulunbuy to talk about jobs and the future of local industry. “I just wanted to say hello to our friends at Tomago Aluminium Smelter,” he said, lamenting the loss of Australian manufacturing as overseas ownership grows. Macca listened as Dave traced how decisions at the top can ripple through small communities: “Unless we start to look after ourselves a bit better, our grandchildren are going to really suffer.”

Their chat drifted, as Macca’s often do, from heavy themes to lighter ones. Dave reminisced about a young singer Macca once played on air — “You warned us she was unusual, but gee she was enjoyable” — and how musical careers can flare and fade quickly. They laughed about meeting performers in Tamworth and then moved on to Dave’s pride in local success stories. “We’re still rocking along up here with King Stingray,” he said. “They’ve gone from strength to strength.”

Before hanging up, Dave thanked Macca’s unseen crew: “They’re a well-oiled single-sail machine.” He also recalled Macca’s visit to Nhulunbuy back in 1999, when he’d kept a copy of The Yackandanda Panda poem from that trip — a reminder of how long these Sunday voices have been crossing paths.

Andrew from Congarinni

Further south, Andrew was up before dawn shifting cattle near Congarinni, west of Macksville, after returning from Europe. He’d spent time in Normandy, where a visit to an American war cemetery left a deep impression. “It was absolutely stunning, very solemn,” he said. “You can’t turn your back on history — what they achieved over there was incredible.”

He and Macca talked about unity and disunity in the modern world and how Europe still carries the echoes of its past. The tone then lightened when Andrew confessed to a recent “pathetic” motorbike spill near Menindee. A patch of bulldust sent him airborne, and he ended up thanking the “lovely nurses at Menindee District Hospital” and the Royal Flying Doctor Service for piecing him back together.

Ernest on the Newell Highway

Cruising between Jerilderie and Narrandera, Ernest was towing a vintage Alvis car — “A-L-V-I-S, built in Coventry” — and revelling in the quiet of the Newell. “After Spain’s mountain passes and endless roundabouts, it’s lovely driving here,” he said. He’d just finished a touring rally through the Pyrenees and felt grateful to be home, where the horizon stretches “to ground and sky and nothing in between.”

Dennis Jagmic in Perth

Macca’s conversation with Dennis Jagmic stretched longer, the tone that of two old hands swapping stories over the vineyard fence. Jagmic, now a Swan Valley vigneron and accountant, once kept wicket for Western Australia and South Australia during the 1970s. “We were amateurs back then,” he said. “Forty-five dollars for a Shield game — four days’ work — but we loved it.”

He grew up across from Houghton Vineyard, playing backyard cricket with Tony Mann, who would go on to play Test cricket. Later, Jagmic found himself second in line behind Rod Marsh. “Everyone said, you’re wasting your time here, so I went east,” he recalled. After a stint in Adelaide under Ian Chappell’s captaincy, he still rates Chappell “number one — a man’s man, hard but fair.”

These days, his challenges come from a different field. “The wine industry’s had a wild ride,” he said, citing export troubles with China and rising production costs. “I’ve got people from the Pacific Islands working for me now — locals just don’t seem to want to do the manual stuff.” He worries that schools push university over trade and that “determination counts more than a degree.” For Jagmic, whether in cricket or on the vines, “you’ve got to have it in the heart.”

Tricia Flannery of Mangrove Mountain

Children’s author Tricia Flannery started writing during the pandemic, drawing inspiration from the casuarinas on her 70-acre property at Mangrove Mountain. Her self-published series The Adventures of the She-Oak Critters uses real photographs of local flora and fauna. “It’s all Australian,” she said. “I refuse to have them printed overseas.”

She writes for children aged four to ten, encouraging them to look up from screens and into the bush. “So much out there is cartoonish,” she said. “I wanted something real — where they sit around the fire and look at the stars.” Her next book will take the critters from country to city, sailing down the Hawkesbury to the Harbour Bridge. “The bush is spiritual,” she added. “It’s peaceful. Friends come here and feel it straight away.”

Peter Denahy from Yackandandah

Peter Denahy checked in from Yackandandah, still bleary after a U.S. trip. “I lost a day on the way back — the universe owes me October 31,” he joked. He’d spent weeks performing around Tennessee and North Carolina under a new entertainer’s visa, playing Nashville’s legendary Station Inn thanks to Kristy Cox and The French Family Band.

He met bluegrass icons like Larry Cordle, writer of Highway 40 Blues, and James Monroe, son of Bill Monroe. “The musicians are phenomenal,” he said. “Kids over there play fiddle like pros.” For Denahy, the trip was a reminder of why he plays: “It puts a firecracker under you — you come home wanting to write.”

He’ll soon appear at Majors Creek Festival near Canberra and later at the Yackandandah Folk Festival. “They got the songs and the humour,” he laughed. “I just had to explain the word ‘dunny’.”

Jean from Paterson (near Gympie)

Jean Davis, 80, rang to help listeners navigate the Bureau of Meteorology’s redesigned website. “You can still get the old one,” she said cheerfully, giving the link reg.bom.gov.au. The new site, she complained, “took away all the town names.” Macca agreed that sometimes “change for the sake of change” leaves people worse off. Jean hoped that if enough users went back, “they might be wary about turning it off.”

KJ in Blackburn South

Among the most heartfelt calls came from KJ, walking through the early sun in Blackburn South. He arrived from India in 1993, after years working in oil and gas. “Slowly you change and become Australian,” he said. “My heart says this is where I live.”

KJ described the courtesy and openness he’d found in Melbourne, contrasting it with a recent tram encounter where someone told him to “go back.” His calm reply: “This is my country. I’m here.” He spoke too about rapid immigration growth and the importance of balance — “Criticize the policy, not the people.”

Macca called him “my Australian of the Year,” saying KJ’s story captured the essence of belonging. “We’re all Australian-made,” Macca said, echoing the old song.

Tim from Mollymook

Driving home from Kangaroo Valley, Tim smiled about an evening spent playing cards with his grandchildren. “These kids don’t use devices,” he said. “They made up a game with three cards in five minutes.” For him, a deck of cards teaches imagination, patience and arithmetic — “a one-stop shop.” Macca agreed: small games, big lessons.

Cheryl from the Blue Mountains

Long-time racing fan Cheryl called ahead of Melbourne Cup Day, relishing the theatre of it all. A former costume-maker, she loves “the whole spectacle” but treats it like a science. “You whittle them down — horses that don’t stay 2,500 metres can’t win,” she said. She praised jockeys Jamie Kah and Rachel King and promised to study the form once the weather settled.

Cara in the Hunter Valley

Cara, once from St Kilda and now in the Hunter Valley, phoned with her Cup tips and a memory of saving a stranded Christmas beetle — “fed her up for nine days and let her go.” Expecting a wet track, she fancied Flatten the Curve, winner of the Bowling Green Gold Cup in Kentucky, and Half Yours, ridden by Jamie Kah. “It’s the race that stops the nation,” she said. “Everyone comes together for it.”

Brian on Bribie Island

Brian remembered attending the 1971 Melbourne Cup with friends, carrying eskies of champagne, beer and Kentucky Fried Chicken straight onto the lawn. At the time, he was working on the tunnel under Arthur’s Seat for the Melbourne Sewerage Scheme. “We just spread out rugs in front of the main stand — you couldn’t do that now,” he laughed.
He’s lived on Bribie Island for nearly 30 years and still loves a flutter. This year he’s backing Absurd. “I came over from New Zealand, sold everything, and never looked back.”

Jan from Brookton, WA

In Brookton, Jan reported a strange theft: both the Anglican and Catholic church bells had vanished. “The Anglican bell had hung there 130 years,” she said. “The Catholic one for 70.” Fearing they’d been stolen for scrap, she appealed for their return. Macca mentioned Peter Olds’ foundry in Maryborough, one of the few places still casting new bells, but Jan said that wasn’t the point — “They were gifts to the community.”

Richard on the Road to Melbourne

Truck driver Richard was hauling two huge tractors south from Far North Queensland. “It’s lush up here,” he said, after chatting with cheerful service-station staff that morning. He noted that Australia’s population had grown by 1.25 million in two years, then joked that many were now living on wheels: “We’re not house-os or wheel-os — we’re wheelies living in our bloody vehicles.”

Richard also carted vintage Studebaker army trucks built under the 1945 Lend-Lease Program, and finished his call with a grin about a lucky $61 bet that came good at the marina bar.

Joan from Skye

The last call of the show came from Joan in Skye, still glowing from Derby Day at Flemington. “The fashions were beautiful — lots of black and white,” she said. She’d met Michelle Payne — “a beautiful young woman” — and watched Pride of Jenny win by ten lengths. “Sometimes I just make up my mind and go,” she laughed. “The roses, the weather, the people — it’s wonderful.”

Ordinary Sunday Doing Extraordinary Things

From Nhulunbuy’s red earth to Brookton’s wheat fields, from Yackandandah’s fiddles to a truck stop near Hay, the voices on Macca’s show carried the sound of a country still connected by conversation. These callers spoke of work and weather, of bells gone missing and beetles saved, of old cars and new songs, of belonging and gratitude.

What ties them together isn’t distance or background but attitude — that easy warmth that starts with “G’day.” Week after week, Australia All Over reminds us that ordinary people, simply telling their stories, make the nation extraordinary.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: ‘Australia All Over’ is a program produced and broadcast by the ABC Local Radio Network and hosted by Ian McNamara. Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara, the ABC, or the ‘Australia All Over’ program. This weekly review is an independent summary based on publicly available episodes. All original content and recordings remain the property of the ABC. Our summaries are written in our own words and are intended for commentary and review purposes only. Readers can listen to the full episodes via the official ABC platforms.