They’re our friends – and they’re in trouble
We slaughter Australian trees in their millions. In Tasmania, a horror story is unfolding.
We slaughter Australian trees in their millions. In Tasmania, a horror story is unfolding.
This story of the bra that changed lives made me cry.
The latest Countryman is a maxi Mini battling an identity crisis.
There’s a time in the life-cycle when a particular word spills forth, quite involuntarily, from the parental mouth. That word is chaperone.
The Hyundai Ioniq 5 N doesn’t just look good, it’s faster than a Ferrari. Finally, here’s an electric car I love.
We may not top the Paris medal tally but our athletes will inspire a nation of kids to play sport. Just as Mexico City’s Olympics in 1968 inspired me as an 11-year-old.
Over 1,000 wattle species festoon our bushland, highways and gardens, and my heart always sings at the sight of that wintery gorgeousness.
I’ve long been interested in people’s last words – seeking inspiration for my own. Why was this town on England’s south coast the focus of King George V’s dying breath?
Before the 1970s, when Australians developed a taste for American consumer goods, locally made products were the norm. Which brands do you remember?
With all the woes and worries of the world, from wars to our attempts to voluntarily euthanise the planet, it’s little wonder we’re so depressed.
I’m guessing that at no other time in the span of human sexuality has such a shocking act featured so heavily in the bedroom.
When I heard that England’s football manager had replaced his trademark waistcoat with a cardigan, I must confess that I wasn’t very interested. But it seems I’m out of step.
Personally, I avoid car dealers with the same passion with which I shun Lycra, Brussels sprouts and the ear-harming yowls and y’alls of country music. But I will say this: Audi dealers must be phenomenally good at their jobs.
I choose my café carefully for its newsprint, of all persuasions and parishes, because I like to know what the other side thinks.
It’s official. ABC managing director David Anderson has unceremoniously dumped me on the footpath at 700 Harris Street, Ultimo, for council collection.
Who’s really in charge in the Mercedes CLE 450 Premier Edition – me, or the car’s tetchy virtual assistant?
This weekend, the older boys are back for the second one’s birthday and the creaky old house seems to expand with their presence. ‘Cuppa, mum?’
Laughter can neither save you from death nor delay it – but it can deny its total victory. You see that in the phenomenon of black humour, and even more in Jewish humour.
We fall in love, we are gripped by fear, we are consumed by jealousy, we drown in debt, we are driven by lust. Hidden-meaning word-pairings are everywhere.
It struck me this week, as I pondered Audi’s riotous RS6 station wagon and the many ways in which I love it, that perhaps the reason I hate all SUVs is that – unlike me – they are simply too tall.
I spent a long time trying to find anything annoying or substandard about the latest incarnation of Volvo’s seven-seater XC90, but I just couldn’t. Apart from the relentless bonging, obviously.
We all need an awakening now and then to the power greater and more mysterious than us, which is this wondrous planet.
The average Australian born today can expect to live well into the 22nd century. But what does that mean for work – and marriage?
Once upon a time in Australian politics, friendships transcended parties. I remember when a conservative like Sir Robert Menzies could be on very cordial terms with a lefty like Jim Cairns – and grief-stricken by the death of Ben Chifley.
We made cars in Melbourne and Adelaide. We were debating the merits of a Big Australia. To predict our future, we first need to reflect on the last 14 years.
They crashed into my world in my mid-thirties during a period of intense work stress. The agony can be so intense that I think death would be preferable, think death would be a relief.
I’m driving slowly, as it’s raining. Passing a parked ambulance, I distinctly remember thinking, ‘You won’t get me.’ Then everything changes in an instant.
My friendship with Lady Joan Lindsay lasted for years, with Joan playfully giving me hints as to the mystery of the missing Miranda at the Rock.
The owners seem so unthinking about their impact on others. This feels like the supremacy of self-interest, a pointer to civilisation’s end point. The meaning: each to their own.
Australia’s fertility rate today is half what it was at the peakof the baby boom, with single-child households and childlessness more socially acceptable options now than a generation ago.
Original URL: https://www.theaustralian.com.au/weekend-australian-magazine/columnists/page/7