It may not have been an accolade he strove for but the oldest living Australian, Frank Mawer, says he’s enjoying each day.
Mr Mawer became the country’s oldest living person after the death of Dexter Kruger in July 2021 at the age of 111.
Celebrating his 110th birthday today, he says he’s seen it all — surviving two World Wars, two global pandemics, and the tragic deaths of loved ones.
But in between the tough moments, he has also experienced pleasure.
“I have six children, 13 grandchildren and 24 great-grandchildren,” he says proudly.
“I live day by day and take each day as it comes.”
As someone who has lived a challenging life for this long, his positive outlook is no small accomplishment.
tragedy and loss
Reflecting on his experience of living through two pandemics, Mr Mawer says he found them both to be highly “restrictive”.
But it was his first pandemic that led to a great tragedy for the Mawer family.
His brother died of the Spanish flu at the age of 20, which meant a young Frank Mawer had to “brush it off as young kids do”.
In the years that followed, his mother passed away, he left school, and was separated from his siblings.
“That broke up the home, as we became wards of the state,” he says.
Mr Mawer’s three sisters went into domestic service while he was sent to work as a 14-year-old laborer on a dairy farm near the Macleay River on the Mid North Coast of NSW.
Despite having to grow up so quickly, there were still moments he remembers fondly.
“I worked on the farm, rode horses, and did some stupid things like swimming in the sea on the horse,” he says.
It was during his boisterous adolescence that Mr Mawer met his Irish wife, Elizabeth.
He was an apprentice carpenter in Sydney working at the building where she was a secretary.
“Occasionally I would pass the office, put my gaze on her, and take her out to get some ice cream,” he says.
They were married before the outbreak of World War II in 1939.
champion of peace
After the wedding, as a conscientious objector, Mr Mawer refused to partake in World War II.
“I became interested in religion when I was about 18, and the concept was that you don’t take up arms or shoot anybody,” he says.
Instead of fighting overseas, he worked on the construction of a building to house ammunition for the Australian Army in North Queensland.
Mr and Mrs Mawer spent more than 70 years married.
Mrs Mawer was diagnosed with dementia shortly before she died of breast cancer in 2012.
In the years before her death, it was Mr Mawer who looked after her.
“She didn’t want to be cooped up in the unit and she would sometimes get out and I would find her in someone else’s house,” he says.
Losing his sweetheart was one of his great challenges in life.
“It was a big shock … I miss her, she was my life partner, we had a great marriage and I have no regrets,” he says.
Now, he lives with his 73-year-old son Philip Mawer in Central Tilba on the NSW South Coast.
Philip and his partner Stuart are his carers.
Some days are harder than others.
“He needs a lot of care and assistance, so that is a full-time job for the two of us,” Philip Mawer says.
Despite this, the younger Mr Mawer finds living with his father later in life to be a “privilege”.
“He’s remarkably stoic and he’ll put up with a lot of discomfort and he won’t complain as he’s an optimistic person,” he says.
“He wants to live. He just values the day and he lives for the day.”
Australia’s first prime minister, Edmund ‘Toby’ Barton, was many things: A leader, a visionary and as one of his obituaries summed up, “a great Australian.”
And, according to author Matt Murphy, he was also “an outright drunk.”
“If you look at our early parliaments — drunkenness was just accepted.”
And Barton is far from an exception. Since colonial times, Australia has been a country soaked in booze, as drinking has been both a national pastime and a source of untold harm and tragedy.
But is it finally starting to change?
colonial roots
When the First Fleet set off from England 235 years ago, its cargo was indicative of the kind of country Australia would become.
The first governor of the NSW colony, Arthur Phillip, insisted on bringing two years’ worth of carefully rationed food for the new settlement, in case conditions were inhospitable for agriculture.
He also took along four years’ worth of rum.
“The marines, who came to escort the First Fleet, insisted and insisted and finally got their way — to have four years’ worth of rum on board … [But] it didn’t last close to four years,” says Mr Murphy, who wrote the book ‘Rum: A Distilled History of Colonial Australia’.
It’s hard to overstate how important booze was in the first few decades of the colony.
“Alcohol was a currency. If you wanted something done, you had to pay for it. How were they paying for it? With booze,” Mr Murphy says.
“There’s lots of records of people buying and selling things for rum. For example, buying land in [the Sydney suburb of] Pyrmont for rum or selling your wife for rum.”
The NSW Corps, or the permanent regiment of the British Army, became known as the Rum Corps because they controlled the access to alcohol.
As the colony grew, rum was made locally and imported. But this wasn’t the kind of rum we know today.
“rum [became] a generic term … People were making ‘rum’ from potatoes and making ‘rum’ out of peaches. There was hooch, backyard rubbish. People died on the spot drinking some of this, they went blind. It was pretty nasty stuff,” Mr Murphy says.
“[But] people would need rum to start their day, like people need their coffee today.”
During these early years of the colony, grog was also introduced to First Nations people, which had incredibly destructive effects.
As the 19th century progressed, demand for rum dropped, but people kept turning to other varieties of alcohol.
The social, economic and health tolls of this much alcohol across Australian society prompted various governments to try and curb drinking habits.
But this came with mixed results.
The six o’clock swill
Starting in 1916, states adopted rules where bars had to close at 6pm.
“It partly came about because of the temperance movement, because they were wanting to cut down on alcohol consumption,” says Richard Midford, an adjunct professor at Curtin University’s National Drug Research Institute and a clinical psychologist.
“But it came into place during the First World War, in a major part, because people felt that the homefront shouldn’t be having a good time while the boys were away fighting in France.”
But the ‘six o’clock swill’, as it became known, had an unintended consequence — a culture of extremely heavy drinking developed, where workers would drink as much as they could between clocking off at 5pm and the 6pm bar closures.
It was not pretty. Bars would lay sawdust on the floor to soak up patrons’ urine and vomit, while many were refitted with tiled walls and floors (a feature which remains today) to make cleaning easier.
“It lasted from the time of the First World War right through, in some states, to the 1960s,” Professor Midford says.
In 1965, an unlikely invention was introduced to try to reduce drinking—the wine cask.
“The wine cask was invented to preserve wine, not to drink it more quickly,” Mr Murphy says.
“When you take the cork out of wine, it immediately starts to oxidise, it immediately starts to go off. And so the average person would rather drink it than tipping it down the sink tomorrow.
“[Cask wine] doesn’t rust.”
But, he says, “it quickly became just a convenient thing to stick under your arm and take to a party.”
Booze and politics
Alcohol and politics has long been a noxious mix in this country.
According to Mr Murphy, the fact that Australia’s first prime minister was “an outright drunk” isn’t even the most outrageous example. Not even close.
“John Norton was elected in a [NSW] by-election in 1898. When he entered parliament, he was drunk every day,” Mr Murphy says.
“Really, I mean disgustingly drunk, apparently. To such a point that about two months later, he downed his dacks and pissed on the parliamentary carpet.”
Mr Murphy also points to then-governor general John Kerr’s drunken speech at the 1977 Melbourne Cup, which he calls “disgusting”.
An inebriated Kerr rambled on in front of the racetrack audience, noting “life is wonderful for all of us,” before presenting the cup.
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“[Bob Hawke] said himself that his most endearing attribute to all Australians was his world record for drinking a yard glass,” Mr Murphy adds.
Hawke entered the Guinness Book for World Records in 1954 for finishing a yard of ale in 11 seconds while he was studying at University College, Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar. But he gave up drinking when he went into parliament and stayed off the grog when he was prime minister.
Mr Murphy says the attitudes of politicians have had a major influence on our drinking culture over the generations.
But recently, there’s been a lot of discussion about how this is actually playing out in Canberra.
“The stuff that’s come out of parliament … is another example of a boozy workplace culture [without] restrictions put in place,” says Nicole Lee, an adjunct professor at Curtin University’s National Drug Research Institute and CEO of drug and alcohol consultancy 360 Edge.
She says parliament and other workplaces need to become spaces where “we do think about women; and people from culturally diverse backgrounds; and people who don’t want to drink; and people who don’t want to be around people who are drunk at work”.
Part of the culture
Experts say the centuries of heavy drinking have meant booze is now closely interwoven with Australian culture.
“We’ve got that sense that if you go anywhere in Australia, socially, that there’ll be alcohol there and you’re expected to drink it,” Professor Lee says.
Professor Midford adds: “There’s a very strong culture of going out and deliberately getting drunk. If you have that sort of culture, the sorts of harms that are going to occur, in terms of violence and sexual predation, are going to be much higher “.
Today, there’s a patchwork of drinking habits across demographics.
“There is some indication that people in middle age are actually drinking more — and a lot of that is driven by women drinking more,” Professor Lee says.
People in the country drink more than people in urban areas.
“The further you go away from a major city, the higher the drinking levels and the higher the risky drinking,” Professor Lee says.
And there are different drinking habits among Indigenous Australians, who often get lumped into one group.
“Fewer First Nations people drink, compared to the general community, but those that do drink tend to drink at higher levels,” Professor Lee says.
“Factors of colonisation, of the stolen generations, of trauma — all of those things are linked to higher alcohol consumption.”
On the decline
Yet there are cracks appearing in our close relationship with booze.
We’ve recently seen the rise of the ‘sober curious’, as Dry July has become increasingly popular, along with zero and low-strength alcohol products.
As perceptions around alcohol are slowly starting to shift, overall drinking rates are starting to go down in Australia — thanks to one particular demographic.
“[The fact that] drinking rates are going down is nearly entirely driven by young people,” Professor Lee says.
“People in their 20s are still the heaviest drinking group, but fewer of them are drinking. Those that do drink are drinking less [than previous generations] and they’re starting later… It’s a really big shift.”
So what’s behind this shift among young people? Experts say it’s thanks to a mix of education, awareness and different priorities.
“There’s a lot more talking about [alcohol consumption]. It’s a lot more visible when there’s problems — those problems are more often reported on,” Professor Lee says.
“[Young people] are being healthier, they’re probably more conscious of their appearance — alcohol is really the only drug that makes you fat by just taking it … Also I feel like young people are much more ambitious than my generation.”
Or, as Professor Midford puts it: “Young people are much more savvy, I think, about the effects of alcohol than those 20 or 30 years ago.”
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The dust barely settles as it drifts across thousands of spectators circled around traditional dancers from Groote Eylandt kicking up a storm this weekend in the remote NT community of Barunga.
Historically, the buŋgul, a meeting place of dance, song and ritual, at Barunga Festival is largely admired from the sidelines — but this year was different.
“Barunga is one of those different places, it brings so many people from different communities to try to share together in one place, that’s what Barunga is all about,” Groote Eylandt dancer Leonard Amagula says.
“It is reaching out to other communities, reaching out to the young ones, to grow up and see we are doing wonderful things.”
It starts as a trickle, and then legions of people from the crowd swirl into the centre, and press together behind the Groote Eylandt Anindilyakwa experts, billowing sand across the tiny community about 400 kilometers south-east of Darwin.
It’s one of those special moments that makes the three-day festival what it is; a place where both historic agreements are made and the promise of treaties echoes loudly.
And a place where remote Indigenous culture is strengthened simply by sharing in it.
A ‘rough but happy’ beginning
The festival has a long and important history that started over three decades ago in 1985.
Mr Amagula has been a regular attendee since his teens.
Back then, he says, it was “kinda rough but happy” and much larger with far more people traveling in from other Aboriginal communities.
This year, after the festival was postponed due to COVID, creative director Michael Hohnen says that balance was almost struck again.
“Because it was not a long weekend, [there] was probably a few less people and the date change, a lot of people can’t plan for that date change, but I actually like this energy a lot,” he said.
“We didn’t push it at all in anywhere but remote communities … that’s what Barunga [Festival] is supposed to be, the community invites visitors in.”
A succession of local NT bands took to the main stage across the three days, as MCs called musicians up for their slot and announced the winners of sport trophies in between sets – the by-product of a festival thin on staff running on ‘Barunga time ‘.
On Saturday night, singer and political activist Walmatjarri elder Kankawa Nagarra – who toured with Hugh Jackman in Broadway to Oz – opened the main stage concert delivering a string of songs that delved into a life of hardship as she moved from mission to mission.
Then Salt Lake and Eylandt Band from Groote fired up the crowd.
A link to political past
Dissimilar to past years, where the rallying cries for action from leaders have been loud and fearless, it was quieter on the political front, leaving the festival’s roots in sport, music and culture to shine.
But at a festival steeped in political history, the past couldn’t be ignored.
It was at this festival, 34 years ago, that Aboriginal elders and leaders presented then Prime Minister Bob Hawke with the Barunga Statement – a call for treaty.
“We haven’t seen a treaty yet,” Northern Territory Treaty Minister Selena Uibo tells the crowd gathered for the opening ceremony in the heat of the afternoon.
“This is something my team and I are working hard to have progressed … to listen to all of those voices that have been very loudly singing for the last three decades.”
It’s been almost five years since then chief minister Michael Gunner and all four Northern Territory land councils signed a Memorandum of Understanding — the Barunga Agreement — paving the way for consultations to begin with Aboriginal people about a treaty.
And just last month the Territory’s first treaty report was tabled in parliament.
Ms Uibo reiterated her commitment to provide a formal response by the end of the year and encouraged people to work together to close the gap, which she labeled, “so devastating in terms of disadvantage.”
“What can you do in your role, what can you do in your bubble, what can you do in your everyday lives that will truly promote and create reconciliation?” she asked the crowd.
The Roebuck Bay Hotel is one of the Kimberley’s most well-known landmarks, with its Thursday night wet T-shirt competitions as popular among tourists as a sunset camel ride on Cable Beach.
The infamous watering hole has survived cyclones, fires, world wars, bankruptcies, economic recessions and a depression, and most recently a global pandemic.
Now, it is on the market for the first time since 1985 as the current owners, the Coppin family, test the waters after a busy post-COVID boom in business.
The iconic pub is believed to have been the first building in Broome with flushing toilets and one of the first to have electricity.
And it has played host to brawls between indentured pearlers and the gross murder of a senior police officer in 1912.
For a brief period in the 1950s, patrons could even get a haircut at the bar while they sipped on a middy in exchange for a beer in return.
A dash of sin and debauchery
Indeed, ‘The Roey’, as it is affectionately known, has had a colorful 132-year history, which published Peter Coppin admits has involved plenty of “sin and debauchery”.
“It hasn’t changed in a long time. We still try and allow people to have fun,” he said.
“If you’re not having fun, you may as well go home.”
The Roebuck Bay Hotel had the humblest of beginnings, built on a bush block that was bought at auction with a reserve price of just £20 sterling in 1883 on country belonging to the Yawuru people.
Edwin William Streeter, a pearl merchant of London, went on to open the establishment in 1890 after buying the block from James William Hope.
The new pub was made of little more than a few sheets of tin.
Beers for the pearlers
Streeter had identified a potentially lucrative business opportunity in supplying liquor to the hundreds of hard-working laborers servicing the then-thriving pearl shell industry.
Most of the workers had arrived in Broome from Japan, Malaysia and Manila, traveling thousands of kilometers to an alien landscape of bright red pindan and sparkling blue waters.
After days at sea, they would seek refuge in the bars and gambling schools which lined the road now known as Dampier Terrace.
“The pearlers would come ashore and relax during the neeps,” Broome Historic Society member Ron Johnston said.
“Broome was the capital of the pearl shell industry of the world, which up until the introduction of plastics was the predominant button [material].
“Today, WA couldn’t do without royalties from the iron ore industry. In those early days it was pearl shell.”
The Roebuck was one of just two hotels in its first decade, but by the turn of the 20th century it was one of six.
“People love a beer and there was a quid in it so people built these little places for them,” Mr Johnston said.
“In the early days, pubs were probably just a couple of sheets of tin and a few poles, and people who sell grog.
“But those pubs have obviously disappeared.”
Today the Roey is the only original pearling-era pub that remains, with the others succumbing to the boom and bust waves of the local economy.
A national treasure
The National Trust, one of Australia’s chief conservation organisations, describes the beloved local institution as “legendary” in a statement of significance.
“[The Roebuck Bay Hotel] has always been a social and cultural focal point in Chinatown,” the statement reads.
Its ownership has passed through the hands of successive proprietors many from faraway places with curious stories.
Most recently it has been owned and operated by the Coppin family, when Peter’s father Brian purchased the property in 1985.
The younger Coppin, who grew up in and around the bar, describes the hotel as “the last piece of memorabilia which connects us to why Broome actually exists.”
“Pubs are probably the greatest place that captures living history,” Mr Coppin said.
“With every old pub being torn down or renovated to be something new and sterile you lose a piece of that history.
“But the history is not just in the bricks and mortar, it’s in the people, and it’s a time capsule of people new, old and everyone in between.
“You can go to museums, and you can see dummies, artifacts and replicas, but to walk into an old pub, that’s where you find real history.”
fun and scandal
The Coppins’ tenure has been characterized by equal parts fun and scandal including a ban on the wet T-shirt competition after a 16-year-old won the event in 2011.
The tradition was resumed two months later after its ‘immodesty license’ was reinstated.
It continues today, defining the #metoo era and changing social norms.
“Well, I always say it’s like an 80:20 rule, 80 per cent can’t believe it and have the greatest time and 20 per cent somehow can’t believe that it’s still going on and think it’s demeaning to women,” he said.
“Our biggest defenders of the wet T-shirt competition are actually women and most of them are in their 60s.”
Mr Coppin said the Roey had stayed true to some of its more sordid traditions while adding some new ones.
“We’ve still got skimpies. We’ve also had himpos or himpies,” he said.
“I don’t think we would have ever thought we’d have done a wet jockstrap, wet tradie or a wet drag queen competition but they’re now fairly prominent fixtures.
“You’ve got to try and keep true to your traditions and your heritage but at the same time you’ve got to try to change and roll with the times.”
Camaraderie and longevity
If you ask the regulars who frequent the infamous Roebuck Bay Hotel what the secret to the hotel’s longevity is, many will struggle to put their finger on exactly what brings them back to the bar stool.
Broome resident Craig Godfrey has been frequenting the Roey for the past 15 years, which he describes as a proud locals bar.
“[I love] the camaraderie with mates that I’ve been drinking here for years with,” he said.
Mr Godfrey said he had “too many memories” from his time in the pub, including “a couple of shockers”.
“What about the bar manager running around the street naked out the front… the accountant that was naked down the street and the police brought him back and said, ‘I think he’s one of yours’.
“There used to be a lot of that sort of stuff going on.”
He flew in his single-engine Gipsy Moth on moonless nights or in torrential rain, often unlicensed, and at least once in his pajamas, with only a magnetic compass for navigation.
His name was Clyde Fenton – the tall, bespectacled doctor who, in the 1930s, clocked up 3000 hours and a quarter of a million miles, tending to the sick and injured across the Northern Territory.
This year marks 40 years since Dr Fenton’s death, and his legacy as one of Australia’s “original” flying doctors continues to live on.
Every flight an adventure for larrikin of the sky
It was 1934 when Dr Fenton arrived in Katherine to establish an aerial medical service and it wasn’t long before his services became relied upon.
Whether it was a drover with an infected tooth, a woman having difficulty in childbirth or a child with a burst appendix, he would be in the air as soon as the call for help came through.
“In that vast, mysterious, and lonely land, every flight was an adventure,” he wrote in his 1947 autobiography.
But the harsh and remote lands of the Northern Territory ask more of people than most places.
Dr Fenton once went to the rescue of a toddler at Dunmarra who had been charged by a wild buffalo.
Not only did he tend to the child, he also went out and shot the buffalo which had been holding the homestead hostage all morning. He was gifted the horns as a thank you gift.
Another time, in 1940, Dr Fenton was at 2000 feet when a four-foot brown snake slithered along the cockpit floor toward the rudder pedals.
“Not daring to keep his feet on the controls, Dr Fenton almost stood on the pilot’s seat and flew the plane by the joystick alone,” the Argus reported.
He made a rudderless landing near Maranboy and leapt from the plane before it fully came to a stop, swiftly dispatching the snake with a hammer.
Dr Fenton was the kind of person who took risks to save lives. And with bush aviation in the 1930s, the risks were substantial.
A crash course in flying
Bad weather, a spluttering engine, a fuel gauge pushing its limits: these things happened a lot to Dr Fenton, who survived an extraordinary number of plane crashes in his time as a flying doctor.
The first was in 1934 near Victoria River Downs – Dr Fenton was trapped upside down in the plane and his passenger described his eventual exit from the wreckage as “like toothpaste coming out of a tube that had been trodden on”.
Walking from the crash site to the station, the pair encountered a hostile buffalo and waded through croc-filled rivers.
Dr Fenton had many close calls during his time out bush, including one in September 1937 that had the whole of the Northern Territory on edge.
While flying to a person in strife in the Gulf, somewhere near Tanumbirini Station, strong winds shook his little Moth and forced him to land in the scrub.
Several days later, Dr Fenton was still sitting beside an almost-dry waterhole feeding on the raw meat of a half-starved cow he had found bogged, hoping the bandages he used to form an SOS sign would catch someone’s attention.
Search parties frantically looked for the beloved doctor, and eight days later he was found, unharmed apart from a little sunburn.
Grounded in Hong Kong and a hero’s welcome home
Dr Fenton had a reputation as being a bit of a maverick.
When he wasn’t on the job, he was known to land his plane outside the pub in Katherine’s main street for a beer, or sometimes for a laugh he would take the plane up over the town and flour bomb people.
On May 14, 1935, newspapers reported the flying doctor was fined £20 for “endangering public safety” by swooping low over Darwin’s Star open-air picture theater several times, including once between “the front of the circle and the screen”.
And then there was the time in 1936 he flew his tiny single-engine plane to China upon receiving news of his sister’s death in childbirth there.
Dr Fenton’s mother was stranded, so he constructed an extra fuel tank and took off in a monsoon, teaching himself to fly with his knees while he executed a daring mid-air refueling over the water.
He had no official permits or papers but managed to talk his way through Koepang and Bangkok, the latter by handing over an aircraft manual in English when asked for an airworthiness certificate.
Eventually, an official in Hong Kong grounded him.
Dr Fenton somehow took off anyway, only to be arrested in Swatow, China, then released because of his “filial piety”.
On the way back he was grounded again by the same Hong Kong official, who not having learned his lesson, gave the doctor permission to test his plane. And Dr Fenton was off again, arriving back in Darwin to a hero’s welcome.
CareFlight ball dedicated to Dr Fenton this year
Upon the outbreak of war, Dr Fenton served as a pilot in the RAAF, responsible for delivering food, mail and personnel from the Batchelor Airstrip to isolated bases and signal units across Arnhem Land and beyond.
He stayed on for a short time as a quarantine officer in the Northern Territory after the war, and in 1949 he married and moved to Melbourne, where he died in 1982.
His legacy lives on across the Top End, with a primary school and an airstrip named after him, and a dedicated wing at the Katherine Museum.
Katherine Museum chief executive, Lauren Reed, said the local community rallied to have one of the flying doctor’s original Gipsy Moth plans returned home and put on display.
“He was quite an iconic person and provided such a vital service, not just to Katherine but to all the regions and communities,” Ms Reed said.
Dr Fenton’s aerial ambulance eventually grew into the Northern Territory Aerial Medical Service.
The service has been succeeded by CareFlight NT, and the organization’s Hangar Ball is being dedicated to Dr Fenton this year.
CareFlight Fundraising Manager Jo Rutherford, who has been researching the territory’s “original” flying doctor for the event, said Dr Fenton paved the way for remote medical care in the north.
“He showed that aeromedical service was essential in the Top End and he was courageous in showing it could be delivered everywhere,” she said.
“He was a pioneer who worked to provide access to medical care wherever people lived.”
Sam Kerr’s stellar year for club and country has been recognized by international football with a fourth consecutive nomination for the game’s most prestigious award, the Ballon d’Or.
Key points:
Sam Kerr is one of just four players to be nominated for the Ballon d’Or in every edition since its inception in 2018
The Matildas skipper finished third in the last edition, which was won by Spain captain Alexia Putellas
Her nomination comes after yet another Golden Boot-winning season with Chelsea as well as becoming Australia’s all-time leading goal scorer
The Matildas captain was announced as part of the 20-person short-list on Saturday alongside names such as Dutch striker Vivianne Miedema, English winger Beth Mead, German veteran Alexandra Popp, inaugural winner Ada Hegerberg, and current holder Alexia Putellas.
The nomination comes after yet another stand-out campaign for Chelsea where Kerr finished the 2021/22 Women’s Super League season as the top scorer for a second consecutive year, scoring 20 goals for the Blues on their way to retaining the league title.
The 28-year-old also scored two crucial goals — including an extra-time winner — against Manchester City at Wembley in May to win back-to-back FA Cups.
His performances in the league saw Kerr become the first Australian to win England’s PFA Players’ Player of the Year in June, alongside being named the WSL Player of the Season and voted the Football Writers’ Association’s Footballer of the Year.
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Kerr had a record-breaking year in the green-and-gold, too, becoming Australia’s all-time leading goal-scorer in February when she surpassed Tim Cahill’s record of 50 during the Asian Cup. She won that tournament’s Golden Boot with seven goals , with her current tally sitting at 59 in 110 games.
The striker is one of just four players to have been nominated in every edition of the Women’s Ballon d’Or, which began in 2018, ranking fifth, seventh, and third respectively.
Kerr is also the only player from the Asian Football Confederation to be short-listed for the 2022 award, with the list largely dominated by European players who starred at the recent Women’s European Championships.
Fourteen of the 20 nominated players come from the UEFA confederation, while Africa (Asisat Oshoala) and South America (Christiane Endler) have one each. The United States has four nominees, including the youngest in 20-year-old Trinity Rodman.
In the men’s category, seven-time winner Lionel Messi missed out completely for the first time since 2005, as did his Paris Saint-Germain team-mate, Neymar.
Instead, France striker Karim Benzema leads the short-list after winning the La Liga and Champions League double with Real Madrid, finishing as top scorer in Spain with 27 goals.
He’s joined on the 30-player list by Liverpool winger Mohamed Salah, England striker Harry Kane, Belgium midfielder Kevin De Bruyne, new Barcelona recruit Robert Lewandowski, and new Manchester City signing Erling Haaland.
The winners will be announced at a ceremony on October 17.
After winning a seventh-straight gold medal in the men’s hockey at the Commonwealth Games, it must be asked: are the Kookaburras the greatest team to ever perform on this stage?
Put nationalism and individual events to the side for a moment. For sheer excellence and dominance sustained over the history of the Commonwealth Games, it’s hard to argue that any other team across any sport, comes close.
In Birmingham, the Kookas’ juggernaut rolled on with a thumping 7-0 win over India in the gold medal match.
It all started in Kuala Lumpur 1998, when hockey was brought into the Games. There, the Kookaburras dropped a pool stage match to South Africa.
It remains the only game they’ve ever lost.
That’s a total of 41 out of 42 matches won over 24 years, scoring 33 goals and conceding two in the seven gold medal deciders.
“It’s a great team dynasty, really proud of the history that we have,” co-captain Aran Zalewski said.
“Every team that comes is a different team, new venue, new players, a lot of first time Commonwealth Games guys here, second time Commonwealth Games guys, so we know that we have to come out and perform, and we pride ourselves on performing well here.”
But the Kookas are more than just a series of impressive stats.
With such a crowded sporting scene in Australia, we sometimes don’t appreciate the full spectrum of talent we have across a whole range of sports, including hockey, which only tends to attract mainstream attention at the Olympics or Commonwealth Games.
But it’s time we actually sit back and fully appreciate what the Kookaburras have brought to men’s hockey, and Australian sport, over the last two decades – and the path this current generation is forging.
“We really just enjoy being on tour and spending time together, and I think that’s the best thing about this team,” Zalewski said.
“Good harmony, and we all want to challenge each other. It’s not all roses, we have to get the best out of each other and raise the tension at times.
“And we do that, and we’ve got a level of respect and trust and value that allows us to do that.”
Near flawless final caps off seventh heaven
The casual observer could look at the 7-0 score line in the final and think it was an easy romp.
But India is one of the best teams in the world – having won bronze at last year’s Tokyo Olympics – while the Kookas memorably claimed silver in a penalty shootout heartbreaker.
The reality is the Australians didn’t let India get into any flow, stifling them from the opening whistle in a masterful performance. It was an emphatic statement after they were nearly knocked out in the semis by England.
The crowning moment was the second goal – perfection for purists, as the Kookaburras whizzed out of danger on the edge of their circle, with six players involved in beautiful interplay, finished off by a Nathan Ephraums tap in.
The defense was just as entertaining to watch as the goal fest. When caught in their quarter, which wasn’t often, they played patiently, backing their skills to slip through a crowd of Indian players, and getting out of trouble.
Even while leading 5-0 and the game already won, Matt Dawson thrust himself in the line of fire to block an Indian shot.
It was characteristic of every player’s effort in the decider: they play hard, they play every ball, and they play to win every single moment, no matter the score.
Ockenden wins his fourth gold medal
It may sometimes seem unfair to single out individuals after any performance in a team sport, but when it comes to the Kookaburras for the past 16 years co-captain Eddie Ockenden has been at the center of it all.
He now joins former skipper Mark Knowles with four Commonwealth Games golds.
“I’m really proud to have that, and it’s really good part of our history but it’s our team now, it’s our time,” Ockenden said.
“I’m just incredibly proud to have played with some of the guys I played with across all those four and just incredible friends, great teammates, great players.”
Zalewski says Ockenden is a much-loved member of the team.
“The best thing about Eddie we can draw on so many experiences. And just having someone that’s so calm under pressure, such a humble guy and just such a good fella, really.”
In Birmingham, he remained a bedrock in defence, the cool head needed in all situations, and at these Games he was not only a leader of the Kookas, but the unofficial captain of the entire Australian team, as the opening ceremony flag-bearer.
He’s not comfortable with the spotlight remaining solely on him though, preferring to praise the players who have come in, particularly in the wake of major changes following the Rio 2016 Olympics where they finished sixth.
“The way we didn’t stagnate or drop even when we had new guys, we really improved surprisingly quickly and got to that amazing level, and I even think Tokyo last year, that was just the start.”
Australia’s all-time games record holder continues to rack up the caps: he’s now just a few shy of 400, and at 35, he doesn’t look like stopping any time soon.
“I’m feeling really good and fit, I’m just going to give myself a chance to make the squads and push for the team because it’s really tight for spots and it’s an incredible squad that we’ve got,” he said.
“There’s a lot of guys back in Perth [where the team is based] that could be here today, so it’s a really tight squad and I’ll just keep putting my name forward and doing my best.”
While Comm Games are nice, the Olympics are the ultimate prize for hockey players, and Ockenden hasn’t managed gold on that stage yet.
Paris is only two years away – so will he be there?
“Now you say ‘yeah, I’d like to go’, but it’s a bit more into it than that,” he said.
“It’s hard leaving my family all the time. You have to make sure your body is good, and your form is good, and then I think we’ll just see how it goes.”
And if the Kookaburras can continue building to gold in Paris, with Ockenden at the helm, that could take them from Commonwealth Games legends to Australian sporting immortality.
Reducing access to humanities degrees will reduce critical thinking among the population and disadvantaged regional students, academics have warned, as Federation University prepares to ax its Bachelor of Arts (BA) program from 2023.
Key points:
Federation University is preparing to ax its Bachelor of Arts degree from 2023
The Federal Education Department will review recent fee-hikes for humanities degrees
Academics say art degrees play a critical role in teaching young people to think critically
Making the decision less than two years after the former federal government doubled fees for humanities degrees, the university blamed the cut on declining enrollments from international and domestic students.
“Student commencements have failed from 87 in 2018 to just 27 in 2022,” acting vice-chancellor Professor Wendy Cross said.
“The Federation will continue to offer many of the courses that were part of the BA program … and we will redeploy staff where possible.”
A ‘short-sighted’ move
The move was labeled “short-sighted” by Ballarat-based professional historian Lucy Bracey.
“Cutting off access to this, not only does it limit future students — it particularly disadvantages regional students,” Ms Bracey said.
She said undertaking a degree in humanities taught young people critical thinking.
“You learn to evaluate sources, to learn to research,” Ms Bracey said.
“You learn to look at what you’re reading, [and] think about who created the source [and] why it was created.
“Critical thinking is allowing you to not just accept what you’re reading in the newspaper or told on the TV.”
Job-ready Graduates to be reviewed
The former federal government decided in 2020 to hike fees dramatically for humanities degrees under its Job-ready Graduates package, which simultaneously reduced the cost of science, engineering, nursing, health, teaching and maths degrees.
A federal Department of Education spokesperson said a “review” into the program would begin in the second half of this year.
“The government will appoint eminent Australians to conduct a universities accord, which will work with universities to consider things like affordability and accessibility,” the spokesperson said.
Arts apart from the ‘ecosystem’
Queensland University of Technology Professor Sandra Gattenhof was the chief investigator for the Australian Research Council linkage project, The Role of the Creative Arts in Regional Australia: a Social Impact Model.
“From our research it shows that any kind of arts engagement, whether it be the small crafting groups, to big events, to things like courses at regional university … they’re all part of an ecosystem,” Professor Gattenhof said.
“And the minute you take one bit of the ecosystem out, it means… the connections that are within that community begin to fragment.”
She said arts and humanities played a vital role within regional areas to create greater social inclusion.
“Often when we talk about regional community, we often talk about statistics — regional trade and tourism statistics,” Professor Gattenhof said.
“But we forget that arts, culture, and creativity, in and of itself, is a wellbeing indicator.
“If you have that in your community, your community is what we call, ‘thriving’.”
A disappointing anniversary
This year marks the 150th anniversary of Victoria’s Education Act, which made education free, secular, and compulsory for young students.
Ms Bracey said it was disappointing to see a reduction in student opportunities in 2022.
“There’s a current thinking in society that is, if you’re not doing something that has an immediate job outcome at the end of it… it’s not worth doing,” she said.
“And there’s so many things wrong with that.
“There are over 500 professional historians, working across Australia, who all have an arts degree background.”
Each year children flock to Brisbane’s Ekka to check out the brightly colored show bags filled with treats, toys and trinkets — a far cry from the sample bags of old.
As the Ekka kicks off for another year, the Queensland Museum has unearthed some of the state’s oldest show bags.
They originated when the Royal Brisbane Show allowed stall holders to give away free samples in 1902 — the very first one held coal.
“It was the earliest sample bag on record, and that piece of coal was worth a lot at the time and many were able to use the coal at home,” said Tess Shingles, the museum’s acting assistant curator for Queensland stories.
“It must have been a big hit, as the tradition of the show bag has continued to this day.”
Sample bags vs. show bags
Sample bags were originally filled with produce and edible items that were made and manufactured in Queensland.
“Technically the sample bags were the precursor to the show bags and were originally paper bags,” Ms Shingles said.
“The plastic bags came in during the 1970s and at that time they switched to being more commercial and more about pop culture.”
The Bertie Beatle bag remains a show-goer favorite to this day after first appearing in Queensland in 1963.
“Bertie Beatle was originally created to compete with Freddo frog,” Ms Shingles said.
“The same company was making Violet Crumbles so they would use the by-product of the honeycomb in the Bertie Beatles.
“Bertie then featured in sample bags for Hoadley’s before becoming a stand-alone bag.”
Another popular sample bag in the 1960s was the Rosella bag, which highlighted pickled products and the quality of its condiments.
“The bag showed people how the pickling process happened and why their particular products were safe and trusted,” Ms Shingles said.
Some of the first toys that appeared in the bags were cardboard pistols that would fire rubber bands.
“The toys were often secondary in the early days to the confectionary and food; many of the toys would be put together when families got home from the show.”
Many of the snack food sample bags claimed to be nutritional for children and were endorsed by health professionals.
“The Twisties bag is funny as it was advertised as the healthy snack and would use a photo of the strongman holding the Twisties,” Ms Shingles said.
“A leaflet was also included in that bag saying that Twisties were recommended by dentists as they were safeguarding children’s teeth and should be on every tuckshop menu.”
Keeping fine art history alive
The museum has also collected Ekka fine art entries from as far back as 1916 featuring button work, embroidery and knitting.
“One of the most iconic pieces is a framed work by a button maker called John Ward, who entered an artwork in 1916 made up of buttons and carved pearl shell from the Torres Strait,” Ms Shingles said.
A knitted christening gown and a handmade dog called Bo Bo also feature in the collection showing the variety of entries over the decades.
“Although it didn’t win a prize, the dachshund called Bo Bo by Elise Hicks in 1972 has a special place in our collection,” Ms Shingles said.
“This part of the collection shows the skills of local Queenslanders and that’s why we keep them as they were exhibited.”
For more than two-and-a-half years the charred remnants of Sawyers Hill hut have served as a reminder of the harsh 2019-2020 bushfires that swept through the NSW Snowy Mountains.
Built as a travellers’ rest house in the 1900s, it was one of the most renowned historic structures in Kosciuszko National Park.
It is back in business and is the first of the 11 historic huts that burnt down during the Black Summer bushfires to be rebuilt.
NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service ranger Megan Bowden said it was the only hut in Kosciuszko that was built as a travellers’ rest hut.
She said it was significant because of its association with important historic transport routes through the mountains.
“From people who used it in the early days right through to people who used to use it until it was burned,” Ms Bowden said.
“They’re quite significant as being living museums, as markers of the past and for present use.”
She said it “really hurt” to see them destroyed by fire.
“Especially Sawyer’s Hut, which was actually burned down in 2003 and we rebuilt it,” she said.
“So, to see it go again was certainly pretty hard.”
Rebuilt by NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service staff and volunteers, the timber was sourced from burnt trees that were felled during a roadside fire risk reduction program.
“We’ve used local millers to cut them to specific dimensions and shapes like splayed boards, which are actually hard to get now,” Ms Bowden said.
“So it’s nice to be able to use the timber that was burnt in the 2020 fires and then to see it being used in the huts today.”
It was estimated that hundreds of thousands of hectares of Kosciuszko National Park burned during the 2019-2020 bushfires.
Ms Bowden said the new huts had been built with “fire resistant strategies” to help protect them during future fires.
“We’ve used things like fire retardant in the timber,” she said.
“And we’ve wrapped the windowsills with iron and actually installed sprinklers as well.”
The huts — constructed by cattlemen, prospectors, and Snowy Mountains Scheme workers in the 1800s and 1900s — help paint a picture of survival in the region during that time.
Kosciuszko Huts Association president Simon Buckpitt said their origins were many and varied.
“Some were [for] stockmen, some were for soil conservation work, some were for hydrology, and some of them were for early survey works,” Mr Buckpitt said.
In more recent times, the huts have been used by those seeking refuge from the harsh cold climate.
Two men sought shelter in Seaman’s Hut after becoming disoriented during a hike on Mount Kosciuszko in June.
“When people do get stuck in bad weather these huts have provided really important emergency shelter,” Ms Bowden said.
Timber skills kept alive
Vickery’s Hut in Tumut is next in line for a rebuild and will require traditional timber practices in construction.
Ms Bowden said the project would run training courses throughout the rebuild process to help keep the historic timber skills alive, using broad axes and other traditional methods.
“A lot of these timbers you need the skills to know how to prepare them and install them in these places,” she said.
“We’re actually trying to run some training courses as well through this program.”
The entire rebuild project is expected to be finished by 2025, pending weather conditions.