Andrew Bolt: I loved you Melbourne, but now it’s over

The bush means more space, fewer people and a wide sky to let me dream I’m free — and I’m not alone in fleeing Melbourne.

That’s it. I’m out of here. Melbourne, I loved you once but it’s all over between us.

So the house is sold, the boxes packed, and I’m heading bush, without a single tear.

Blame maybe the coronavirus for the cold goodbye. I’m not alone in fleeing Melbourne after months of this virus lockdown.

That didn’t just leave me feeling claustrophobic and wanting out before this crazy government’s next stunt. I was felt threatened by how eagerly so many Melburnians accepted home imprisonment and looked for people to dob in.

How I need more space, fewer people and a wide sky to let me dream I’m free.

But, honestly, I was pretty much done with Melbourne already. I’d planned for years to bail out the moment I could.

Why I’m leaving the city I once loved. Picture: Aaron Francis

That’s now. Kids left. Savings topped up. Career optional.

So part of this move is me — but part of it, Melbourne, is you.

It’s more than 40 years since I moved from Murray Bridge to Melbourne, and my first real job.

How I adored the capital of the Garden State.

There was more green than I was used to.

More flowers.

The city seemed sedate, too.

Ordered.

Oh, it had flaws.

The Yarra bank, across from the city centre, was an eyesore.

I still remember seeing a giant rat there, before the warehouses went and restaurants and the casino came.

Now the only rats are the human ones a casino inevitably attracts.

Is that an improvement?

The arrival of the casino. Was that an improvement?

Or just more “progress” to regret, like the rash of pokie machines that infected the city from the 1990s, the previous time a Labor government drove the state broke and needed cash.

I also remember when Melbourne boasted it was Australia’s arts capital, and few dared disagree.

Back then, it had a new arts centre, and gloried in hometown playwrights like David Williamson and bred performers as wildly wonderful as Barry Humphries.

But Williamson then moved to Sydney, as did others, and once-rollicking Melbourne grew so po-faced that the Melbourne International Comedy Festival last year stripped Humphries’ name from its top prize because he’d offended transgender activists.

A city that swaps a Humphries for a Hannah Gadsby has had fun stamped out of it by a new elite that wants laughter to have a licence.

Melbourne’s ‘art scene’ isn’t what it used to be. Picture: Tony Gough

And a city that insists it’s still an arts mecca because — look! — we have lanes coated with graffiti really needs a reality check.

Then there’s the traffic.

When I moved to Melbourne, it had 2.8 million people, and that already seemed plenty.

But our politicians, addicted to macho-growth, doubled it to more than five million.

Homes with gardens were torn down and replaced with apartments.

The city spread like cancer, and Melbourne now has just too, too many people.

Boy, have I noticed.

Finding a break in the traffic to get out of my street got harder.

Sunday went from a quiet day on the roads to jam-packed.

Melbourne now has just too, too many people. Picture: Martin Keep

And with so many newcomers crowding the city, you couldn’t talk any more about a “we” — people sharing the stories that turn individuals into a community.

Stories?

We barely share a language, now that immigrants no longer feel the pressure to integrate, as did my parents’ generation.

In the virus crisis, the government translated health warnings into 53 languages, and still it wasn’t enough.

Victorians born overseas were twice as likely as those born here to get sick.

And have you noticed how brutal Melbourne has become?

More gangs, more street violence, more home invasions.

Even the language is more brutal.

I this week read of the “heartfelt” Instagram post of a footballer’s fiance, battling to get pregnant through IVF.

“’Motherhood sounds so f..king magical,” she wrote.

How that obscenity jarred next to “motherhood”.

I won’t miss being stuck in this every day. Picture: Mark Stewart

True, Melbourne still does things well.

It has the Richmond AFL club, for one.

And no city can get more people to a big game so easily.

I’ll also miss the Ian Potter Centre at Federation Square.

Its Australian art gives me a happy outing a couple of times a year.

But the rest?

What can Melbourne now offer me that compares to the joy of leaving it?

You may know the feeling as you drive away.

Houses finally give way to paddocks and soft hills, blue in the distance, or you crest a rise and see the great ocean at last.

The horizon expands.

The air freshens.

The roar of cars gives way to bird calls.

Breath in, tension out.

Melbourne behind you, a gentler life ahead.