My mum’s notebooks are a piece of social history
They were among my late mother’s most prized possessions and itemise the weekly costs of running a family home in the 1950s and 1960s.
They were among my late mother’s most prized possessions and itemise the weekly costs of running a family home in the 1950s and 1960s.
Barely eight years away is an 85-plus cohort bearing down on us like a speeding freight train and we should be planning for their arrival now.
Here is a generation of retirees who regard Covid’s border closures as having ‘taken’ two of their remaining good years. And they’re doing something about it.
Here is an institution with a language that is evocative, spiritual and, at times, more than a bit scary. Or at least that’s what I thought as a kid in the 60s.
When do we start remembering people, places, experiences? I have a good memory of family life from the age of two onwards – but there are glimpses of earlier times.
For the past 25 years – including the year 2000 – I have struggled to find an acceptable term to describe the first two of the 21st century’s decades. But I can finally rest easy.
The millennial generation is the force preparing to transform our suburban heartland into lifestyle zones.
Australia’s housing market has become so tight, so heated, that I think it’s time to become quite forensic in tracking all parts of the housing market. Including entry-level.
Unity is a national rallying cry but the reality is different. This is the nation of rabbit proof fences, of city versus bush and Covid-induced fracture.
The Danes seem to be prepared to pay any price, to bear any burden, to keep living standards high and their beloved peninsula nation separate from Europe.
Original URL: https://www.theaustralian.com.au/author/bernard-salt/page/7