Category: Macca on Sundays

You never quite know where a Sunday morning with Ian ‘Macca’ McNamara will take you. One minute he’s discussing the final voyage of Captain Cook with a caller in French Polynesia; the next, he’s hearing about a macadamia farmer whose orchard has been visited by millions of moths.

Across the broadcasts of 4 and 25 October, the conversations ranged from the unusual to the quietly personal. There were adventures, strong opinions, a few unexpected discoveries and plenty of good humour.

Here are 12 that caught our attention.

Did Captain Cook change? Keiran Kelly has a Theory

From Moorea in French Polynesia, Kieran Kelly had a question about Captain James Cook that had occupied him for years: what happened to the celebrated navigator during his final Pacific voyage?

Kieran had grown up learning about Cook’s accomplishments, particularly his navigational skill and his reputation for dealing carefully with Pacific communities. But accounts of the third voyage presented a more troubling picture.

On Moorea, where Kieran was staying, an incident involving two stolen goats had led Cook to threaten local villages and canoes. Kieran was particularly struck by the threatened destruction of canoes, which were central to Polynesian life, serving as transport, fishing vessels and important expressions of social standing.

He had travelled to several islands associated with incidents from the voyage, trying to understand what he regarded as a deterioration in Cook’s judgement and temperament. Macca gave him room to work through his interpretation, including Kieran’s speculation about the circumstances of Cook’s death in Hawaii. His theory remains a personal reading of historical events rather than an established explanation.

Kieran’s travels and his book, They’re Not Really Like Us: My American Journey, led them into a discussion of contemporary politics and the pressures facing ordinary families.

“I call it the politics of despair,” Kieran said, suggesting that disillusioned voters were increasingly turning against political institutions rather than enthusiastically supporting particular leaders.

By the time Macca asked for the customary weather report, Moorea sounded like a different world altogether. Kieran described green jungle, brilliant blue water and a temperature of around 35 degrees.

A Golf Ball that Stays Still: Michelle’s Sporting Advantage

“The thing about golf is that the ball is stationary.”

Michelle had found a rather practical reason for choosing her sport. Compared with tennis, where the ball keeps moving, golf at least gives a player time to line up a shot. That matters considerably when you have only about ten per cent vision in both eyes.

Michelle was in Young, NSW, preparing for an interstate blind golf challenge between New South Wales and Victoria. She and other players had travelled down from Sydney, with a practice round ahead of the competition.

Each golfer had a caddie to help locate the ball, judge direction and position the player for the next shot. Michelle’s caddie was a friend who had travelled to join her. Macca wanted to know how the arrangement worked in practice.

The caddie could help Michelle aim, she explained, but after that, the shot was still up to the golfer. Asked about her chances of hitting the intended target, she replied: “A bit like any golfer at the 50-50 chance.”

Michelle had lost most of her sight about ten years earlier following a change affecting her optic nerves. Other competitors had experienced vision loss through different causes, including illness and accidents.

Young was busy with visitors, the countryside was looking lovely and there was every chance the golfers would encounter some rain.

“We’re hardy souls,” Michelle assured Macca.

Millions of Bogong Moths, One Extraordinary Macadamia Harvest

Andrew remembers what happened when he kicked a small pile of dead leaves on his macadamia farm about 15 years ago. A hundred or so moths flew out.

There were millions of them across the property, he recalled, sheltering from the daylight wherever they could find cover. They had arrived during flowering, and Andrew, who had spent 35 years growing macadamias in the Nambucca Valley, was fascinated.

He believed the bogong moths were feeding on the flowers at night and possibly helping with pollination. What followed was the best crop he had ever grown.

“We got our best crop we’ve ever had before or since.”

The timing was remarkable, although it did not prove that the moths were responsible for the harvest.

Now the bogongs had returned. Andrew had been following the wind patterns, wondering whether conditions might again carry the migrating insects towards his farm. When they arrived, he was delighted.

Andrew explained that wild bee populations on which his orchard had previously relied had declined following the arrival of varroa mite. This season he had paid to bring in 40 managed beehives for pollination.

Macca was equally interested in the insects themselves, whose seasonal migration takes them towards the Australian Alps. They talked about the moths’ habits, ecological importance and long association with Indigenous cultural traditions.

Whether another record harvest would follow was anybody’s guess.

Tracy’s Daughter Danielle and the Value of Getting on with the Job

Not every proud parent gets to tell the whole country about their child’s work. Tracy, calling from Beaudesert, had an opportunity to do just that.

Her daughter Danielle, 36, lived in Lethbridge Park in western Sydney and was involved in programming work associated with the baggage-handling systems at Western Sydney International Airport.

Danielle started in a bread shop before moving into warehousing, where she worked with computer systems used to manage orders. Tracy explained that her daughter was subsequently approached by a company involved in baggage-handling equipment, leading to the technical work she was now doing at the airport. Her responsibilities included programming systems and teaching other people how to use them.

What struck Tracy most was the enthusiasm she saw in her daughter and her colleagues. They were excited about the airport project and determined to get their part of it working properly. Even conversations with friends from work seemed to return to the job.

“I think the work ethic isn’t lost,” she said.

Towards the end of the call, Macca asked her daughter’s name. “Danielle,” Tracy answered. He offered his congratulations, much to the delight of a mother who had been waiting for the chance to tell someone about her.

Thirty Boats, Sixty Sailers and a Regatta in the Outback

Imagine towing a sailing boat thousands of kilometres into the Australian interior, only to have a day’s racing cancelled because it was too windy.

David had just returned from doing something very much like that.

The Lake Eyre Yacht Club’s eighth regatta had brought approximately 30 boats and 60 people to Lake Killamperpunna, near Cooper Creek in South Australia. Participants came from across the country, including Rockhampton and Western Australia, while David travelled with Peter and Pablo from the NSW Central Coast.

He was on the return journey along the Stuart Highway when he spoke to Macca. The obvious question was whether they had been sailing on Lake Eyre itself.

No, David explained. The event took place on Lake Killamperpunna, on the Cooper Creek system, where water conditions had made the regatta possible.

There had been competitive fleet racing, some lively conditions and one day when winds reached around 30 knots, forcing the organisers to abandon racing.

David also described the Rear Admiral’s Mug, a less conventional contest involving both running and sailing, associated with the club’s rear admiral, Dick Smith. He thought Tim from Melbourne had taken home the mug.

Macca was intrigued by the practicalities of sailing in such remote country. Large inland waters can develop substantial waves when strong winds arrive, and the distance from ordinary services adds another layer of difficulty.

The yacht club was based at Marree, with sailors travelling further into the outback to reach the water. For David, the journey had involved around 4,000 kilometres of travel. He sounded ready to do it again.

Reverend Bill Morgan Turns 111 — And Chris Has Something to Say About It

Reverend Bill Morgan had just turned 111, and Chris thought Macca’s listeners ought to know.

She had attended a birthday afternoon tea celebrating the Melbourne minister, who, she said, was still conducting religious services in the care facility where he lived.

Chris spoke warmly about his lifetime of service, describing someone who had devoted himself to faith, kindness and helping others.

Macca marvelled at the age. A man born in 1915 had lived through changes that most people could scarcely imagine, yet remained involved in the activity that had shaped much of his life.

Chris had recently travelled through Europe and Asia and noticed differences in how older people were treated. In Thailand, where her husband was using a walking stick after injuring his leg, she remembered being offered assistance and consideration without having to ask.

Back home, she felt that such courtesy was becoming less common.

They began comparing experiences with automated telephone services, businesses that were difficult to contact and the steady disappearance of paper-based alternatives. Chris had experienced the irritation of making repeated telephone calls simply to reach someone who could help her.

They also talked about the tone of public debate, the responsibilities of the media and the need for people to show greater consideration towards one another.

George Has the Barley. Now He Needs the Weather

After three poor seasons, George finally had the sort of barley crop that farmers dream about. Unfortunately, rain was getting in the way of harvesting it.

George was speaking from Waikerie in South Australia, where he worked as both a farmer and truck driver. He had seen plenty of seasons come and go, but this one was shaping up to be exceptional.

“This year they’re once in a lifetime, if we can get them off,” he told Macca.

A crop can look magnificent in the paddock, but until the grain is harvested and safely stored, there is still plenty that can go wrong. George had been waiting for suitable conditions, watching the weather and thinking about the work ahead.

He was also considering what would happen once the grain was ready to move. Storage capacity, freight and shipping arrangements all matter when large quantities of grain come onto the market.

George raised concerns about international grain movements, including reports he had heard about ships waiting for Ukrainian grain. These were his own observations rather than independently verified shipping information.

For the moment, though, his most immediate concern was much closer to home. After several disappointing years, the barley was finally looking good. He needed a break in the weather to get the harvest finished.

A Photographer, An Old Arcade and the Art of Seeing Differently

The sunlight was coming through the glass roof of Adelaide Arcade when Macca noticed a visitor taking photographs.

Michael, from Tucson in Arizona, had just photographed him in black and white.

Why black and white, Macca wondered, when modern cameras offered such extraordinary colour?

Michael explained that removing colour could reveal something that might otherwise be lost. In the photograph he had taken, he believed the absence of colour made the person more important than the surroundings.

“We don’t see you. We see the colour,” he explained.

The American visitor had spent 39 years working in historic preservation in Tucson, restoring older buildings and helping revitalise the city’s downtown area.

Retirement had given him time to travel, and he was making the most of it. More than 20 countries in two years had taken him through an extraordinary range of places, but he remained especially interested in old buildings and the stories they carried.

Adelaide suited him. Its historic architecture, arcades and streetscapes offered plenty to explore, particularly for someone accustomed to looking beyond the obvious tourist attractions.

Macca and Michael talked about the preservation of old buildings, the changing character of cities and the importance of retaining places that connect people with their history.

Jacob’s Father was Right About Moree After All

Jacob had never been much of a believer in the benefits of thermal springs. His father thought highly of them, but Jacob wasn’t convinced.

Then an accident during his travels left him unexpectedly in Moree, where he decided to try the town’s thermal pools. He went several times a day, spending time soaking in the warm mineral water.

For years, Jacob had experienced pain from plantar fasciitis, a condition affecting the tissue beneath the foot. After about three days of visiting the pools, he said, the pain disappeared. More remarkably, he told Macca it had not returned in approximately ten years.

The experience was personal rather than medical evidence that thermal bathing treats or cures the condition, but it had certainly made an impression on Jacob.

“I had to accept that dad was right on this one,” he admitted.

Jacob, a permanent firefighter working on Sydney’s North Shore, was just arriving for duty when he called. Their conversation also touched on the coming fire season, the wet conditions across parts of the country and the difficulties of predicting what might happen if the weather turned dry.

But Macca kept returning to the thermal pools. He was sufficiently intrigued to suggest he might have to try them himself.

At Fogg Damn, The Birds Were Already Putting On a Show

There was a nesting freshwater crocodile at Fogg Dam, and Jan wanted visitors to know it was best left alone. She also wanted them to know that the birds were looking magnificent.

Jan had called from Darwin to invite listeners to a twentieth-anniversary celebration for Friends of Fogg Dam, the volunteer organisation that helps care for the Northern Territory conservation reserve.

The group had arranged a morning gathering and displays explaining its work. For anyone within driving distance of Darwin, Jan thought it would be a lovely excuse to visit.

Macca was interested in the wildlife. Were there snakes? Hadn’t he once spoken to snake researcher Rick Shine about the area?

Jan described pythons and tree snakes, wallabies, freshwater crocodiles and buffalo visible on the distant plains. She was equally enthusiastic about the birds, particularly the magpie geese visiting the wetlands.

The Friends group held monthly working bees, with volunteers trimming vegetation, cleaning and helping keep walkways safe for visitors.

Jan recalled water remaining across the causeway for months during the previous wet, when birdlife gathered in extraordinary numbers. She invited Macca to return towards the end of the wet season, around March, when the group could show him the reserve at its most spectacular.

Macca admitted that despite visiting Darwin many times over the years, he had never experienced the Top End in the full wet season. Jan even promised to send photographs to help persuade him.

Sandra’s Lessons from the Hay Plains

Sandra had two good reasons to be pleased.

After a long dry spell, conditions had improved on the family property near Booligal, and they had recently cut around a thousand bales of hay. That was welcome news after roughly 18 months of drought.

But Sandra was equally enthusiastic about the Hay Inc Rural Education Program, which helps young people gain practical agricultural experience.

The program brings together participants aged 18 to 25 and experienced rural workers who share their knowledge through hands-on training.

It isn’t a conventional classroom arrangement. Participants learn about farming and rural work from people who have spent years dealing with livestock, machinery, changing seasons and the countless decisions that make up everyday agricultural life.

Sandra estimated that the trainers collectively represented hundreds of years of experience.

“It’s those skills that you need to learn,” Sandra explained, adding that some could only really be learned on the job.

She described a program that brought young people together for several training blocks, allowing them to develop skills, meet others in the industry and benefit from experienced mentors.

Some participants had grown up around agriculture. Others were looking for a way into rural work without the same family background or connections.

Troy’s Fifty-Year-Old Catamaran Still Has Plenty of Adventures Left

Troy doesn’t need a large yacht to enjoy Moreton Bay.

His boat is a 14-foot Caper Cat, around half a century old, which he calls Casper Caper. He sails it around the southern reaches of the bay, where even a relatively short outing can bring him close to some remarkable marine life.

Dugongs, loggerhead turtles, sharks and whales have all featured in his sailing experiences.

Macca was keen to hear about the encounters, and Troy was equally happy to describe them. There was obvious affection in the way he spoke about the boat and the waters he knew so well.

Their conversation wasn’t confined to sailing, however. The Redcliffe Dolphins entered the discussion, followed by music, and before long they were talking about Willie Nelson and Neil Young.

Macca and Troy found common ground in Young’s interest in cars, including the old hearse associated with his early musical travels and the beginnings of Buffalo Springfield.

The discussion eventually reached Long May You Run, Young’s song about a much-loved vehicle.

And somewhere in southern Moreton Bay, Casper Caper was still giving Troy good reason to get out on the water.

The Pleasure of Not Knowing Who Will Call Next

The two October broadcasts covered an extraordinary amount of ground, from Moorea and the Australian interior to the wetlands outside Darwin and the waters of Moreton Bay.

There were stories of remarkable longevity, changing careers, farming challenges and unusual adventures. There were also questions that remained unanswered, such as whether Andrew’s bogong moths would be followed by another exceptional macadamia harvest.

Sometimes the most memorable part was a small detail: Michelle’s wonderfully practical explanation of blind golf, Jacob admitting his father had been right, or Tracy taking the opportunity to tell Australia how proud she was of Danielle.

They’re the sorts of moments that rarely make headlines but are worth hearing all the same.

And that’s part of the enduring appeal of Australia All Over. On any given Sunday, nobody quite knows where the next conversation will lead — least of all Macca.

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.

From a romance that began in a European shearing shed to dawn prayers at Woolgoolga and a Father’s Day invitation in a Queensland cane paddock, September offered Ian ‘Macca’ McNamara another wonderfully unpredictable collection of Australian stories.

You never quite know where Australia All Over will take you. One minute Macca is hearing about a Dutch backpacker who ended up marrying an Australian shearer; the next, he’s talking to a barrel racer at a service station in Hay, learning about masala dosas or discovering why a group of women from Echuca–Moama have spent 16 years taking walking holidays without their husbands.

September’s broadcasts found Macca travelling through South Australia’s Riverland and meeting people whose stories reached well beyond the Murray. There were conversations about the changing fortunes of farming, the experiences of seasonal workers, the pleasure of travelling without a timetable and the friendships that can grow from something as simple as a Saturday morning walk.

Some exchanges were funny, others thoughtful, and a few managed to be both.

A Shearing-Shed Romance That Crossed Continents

Rob had spent years shearing sheep around Australia before a family connection took him to Holland, where a farmer had 2,000 sheep waiting to be shorn. That opportunity led to a decade of work across Europe, including Austria, which Rob remembered particularly fondly after the heat and isolation of some Australian shearing districts.

“Especially when you’ve been shearing in Wilcannia or something like that for six months, and then you end up flying to Austria and start shearing in Austria,” he told Macca.

His most enduring memory of Europe, however, had less to do with sheep than with a Dutch backpacker named Anjo, who happened to be working on a farm when one of Rob’s employees became ill. She offered to help in the shearing shed for a couple of weeks and enjoyed herself so much that she refused payment, explaining that she was on holiday and having a wonderful time.

“And you know what he said? If you work for nothing, I’ll marry you.”

It was an unconventional proposal, although it evidently worked. The couple had been together for about 30 years when Macca met them, and Anjo spoke warmly about the years they had spent travelling between shearing sheds and meeting people from all walks of life.

Rob recalled the old sheds along the Murray and Darling rivers, particularly those built when riverboats still played an important role in moving wool. These days, the couple are semi-retired and have bought a houseboat near Loxton, bringing them back to the waterways that had featured so prominently in Rob’s earlier working life.

For Anjo, the travelling and the hard work were inseparable from the pleasure of it all. “It’s not just a job, it’s a lifestyle,” she said. “You love it or you hate it, and we both loved it.”

Candy’s Life in the Fast Lane — on Horseback

At a service station in Hay, Macca encountered Candy, who was travelling from Lewiston in South Australia to Tamworth with two young quarter horses in her float. She was heading to the Australian Barrel Horse Association National Finals, where riders compete to negotiate three barrels as quickly as possible without knocking them over.

Candy had been riding since childhood, starting at pony club before progressing through eventing and showjumping. She took up barrel racing in 2005 and, by the time of her conversation with Macca, had around 18 horses at home and a competition schedule that took her across much of eastern and southern Australia.

“Be the fastest person around three barrels,” she explained when Macca asked what the event involved. “It seems not difficult, but it’s extremely difficult.”

She told him she was then the highest money earner on the Australian Professional Rodeo Association’s barrel-racing circuit, and that she had won the Hay Rodeo earlier in the year. Those were Candy’s accounts of her achievements rather than independently confirmed rankings, but her experience of the sport was unmistakable.

The financial rewards were another matter. Asked whether there was much money in barrel racing, Candy replied, “In Australia, no. In America, yes.” She estimated that establishing a serious competitive operation in the United States could require an investment approaching a million dollars, particularly once horses, travel and other expenses were considered.

Her Australian circuit already involved considerable travelling, with southern competitions generally occupying the warmer months and Queensland events drawing riders north during winter. On this occasion, there were two horses to transport, another long stretch of highway ahead and a national competition waiting in Tamworth.

Dawn Prayers, Masala Dosas and a Welcome for Everyone

John was sitting on the headland at Woolgoolga, watching the waves roll in, when he rang Macca in Renmark. He had just attended prayers at the local Sikh temple, where a small group gathered between 4.30 and 5.30 in the morning to sing and chant.

There was something special, he explained, about entering the temple in darkness and emerging after sunrise. He described the experience simply as “magical”.

John’s family history in the region stretched back generations. According to his account, his grandfather had arrived in the Grafton district in 1885, and he had grown up around Coffs Harbour with strong connections to Woolgoolga’s Sikh community.

The town was preparing for its annual Curryfest, with the 2026 celebration marking the festival’s 20th anniversary. John spoke proudly about the event and the opportunity it provided for people from different backgrounds to meet, share food and learn something about one another.

Macca was particularly interested in the food, especially when John mentioned masala dosas. He explained that a dosa could be served plain or filled with spiced potatoes, often accompanied by coconut chutney, and encouraged Macca to try one rather than sticking to his familiar meat-and-two-vegetables diet.

Their discussion eventually moved into religion and cultural identity. Drawing on his own understanding of Sikhism, John emphasised the importance of treating people as individuals and welcoming visitors regardless of their background or beliefs.

He spoke about the meals provided at the temple and the way sharing food could bring strangers together. The same principle guided his approach to the curry stall, where he enjoyed talking with customers rather than simply handing over their meals.

“The more you engage with the people, there’s a beautiful energy happening,” he told Macca.

The invitation to visit the temple was warmly extended, although Macca seemed less enthusiastic about getting out of bed before dawn. Fortunately, John explained, afternoon prayers were another possibility, and there would still be food and chai afterwards.

Two Triumphs, One Marriage and the Freedom of the Road

Leah and Craig were travelling through Hay on separate Triumph motorcycles, with Leah riding Craig’s former Thunderbird and Craig aboard a 1700 Night Storm. They were heading towards Dubbo, hoping to take in the Bathurst circuit along the way, although the precise itinerary was still open to negotiation.

“We never plan, we just jump on the bike and go,” Leah explained.

The trip was also a birthday celebration, as Leah had turned 61 the previous day. She worked as a nurse and estimated that she rode between 9,000 and 10,000 kilometres annually, sometimes using her Fridays off to explore the Riverland.

Craig had recently retired from operating tractors on a large citrus property, although he still had a small vineyard to keep him occupied. He enjoyed the freedom of the road and the chance to travel without having to think too much about anything else.

“Just getting out there, mate. Looking around, nothing to worry about,” was how he described it.

Their motorcycling had also taken them to Alice Springs as part of Black Dog Ride, an initiative associated with mental health awareness and suicide prevention. Leah spoke about the fundraising they had undertaken through their involvement, while making it clear that the trips themselves were something they both enjoyed.

Macca asked Leah what she liked about travelling with her husband, prompting one of the more memorable answers of the month. “I don’t have to talk to him. But I do love him.”

With separate motorcycles, plenty of open road and no rigid schedule, the arrangement seemed to suit them both.

The Fijian Workers Behind Australia’s Fruit Harvest

Among the people Macca met in Renmark were three men from Fiji who had been working in the district’s citrus orchards. Tona, Manik and Jerry were part of a group of 15 seasonal workers whose Australian employment took them between different fruit-growing regions as crops came into season.

They had spent three months picking oranges and were preparing to travel to Grafton for blueberry harvesting, with Tasmania expected to follow for more work involving berries. The men described a nine-month stay in Australia before returning to Fiji, where Tona also farmed crops including cassava.

Macca was interested in the practical side of their work, particularly the large collecting bags used during orange picking. The men confirmed that the bags could become very heavy, making the job physically demanding over a full working day.

They nevertheless spoke positively about their earnings and the people they had encountered during their time in Australia. Their comments reflected their own experiences, without necessarily describing the conditions faced by other seasonal workers.

“Good money, good people. Nice to meet the Australian people. Thank you so much,” one of the men told Macca.

He thanked them for their contribution to Australia’s fruit harvest and reminded them that relatives back in Fiji might be able to hear the broadcast. For workers spending much of the year away from home, that possibility added a personal dimension to an otherwise ordinary morning beside the Murray.

Forty Wet Seasons in Kakadu and a Riverland Boy Who Went North

Andy Ralph had grown up around Monash in South Australia’s Riverland, where his family history was closely connected to the development of irrigation farming. According to Andy, his grandfather had been allocated a block after returning from service in France during the First World War.

Andy eventually found his way into radio at Berri before deciding to move north, a decision that had kept him in the Northern Territory for about four decades.

He was now living in Kakadu and working in Arnhem Land, close enough to the northern coastline to joke that going any further would put him in the Arafura Sea.

With temperatures reaching around 38 degrees, the region was beginning its transition towards the wet season. Andy explained that the seasonal changes in Kakadu were more complex than a simple division between wet and dry, something reflected in the traditional seasonal knowledge of the region’s Aboriginal peoples.

After approximately 40 wet seasons, he had seen how much the timing and intensity of rainfall could vary. The previous year had brought a late wet and significant flooding, while his hope for the approaching season was for early showers, a good monsoon around Christmas and a reasonably settled finish in March or April.

Despite spending so long in the Top End, Andy retained an affectionate interest in the Riverland, including the fate of Renmark’s Big Orange.

He recalled once suggesting on radio that somebody should sneak out at midnight, paint the landmark yellow and rename it the Big Lemon, an idea that probably said as much about his sense of humour as his views on roadside attractions.

Macca hoped to visit the Northern Territory again, giving the two men another chance to catch up after years spent at opposite ends of the country.

Evie and Isla Give City Children a Taste of Farm Life

At the Royal Adelaide Show, Year 11 students Evie and Isla were helping introduce visiting children to farm animals at the Learning Centre, where the motto was “Look, Touch and Listen”.

Both attended Urrbrae Agricultural High School, which gave them opportunities to learn about agriculture, animal care and the environment alongside their regular studies.

For children growing up in metropolitan Adelaide, the show offered a chance to see animals close up and ask questions that might never arise during an ordinary school day. Evie and Isla enjoyed helping younger visitors make those discoveries, and their enthusiasm was evident when Macca asked about their plans after graduation.

Isla hoped to study veterinary science and was interested in the university pathways available through agricultural education. Evie was drawn towards environmental science and conservation, particularly work involving animals and the natural environment.

Macca remembered being interested in agriculture himself when he was younger, and he spoke about the importance of encouraging students to consider careers connected with food production, animal health and environmental management.

The conversation also included a mention of a grandmother named Rosalind, who was a regular listener to Australia All Over. It was a small personal detail amid the bustle of the Royal Adelaide Show, but one that connected the girls’ enthusiasm for agriculture with the familiar pleasure of hearing someone you know on the radio.

A Century-Old Bridge and Bob’s Pistachio Surprise

Wayne and Bob were neighbours in the Renmark district, although their interests led Macca from local railway history to the economics of growing pistachios.

Wayne was chairman of the Renmark Paringa Community Museum, which was preparing for the centenary of the Paringa Bridge. Opened on 31 January 1927, the bridge is distinguished by its vertical lifting span, designed to accommodate river traffic.

The museum was also restoring a railway carriage dating from 1938, part of an effort to preserve the district’s transport history. Wayne recalled how the railway had once provided an important connection for local producers and residents, before changes in road transport gradually altered the way people and goods moved through the Riverland.

Bob, meanwhile, had been growing pistachios since 1983, when the crop was still relatively unusual in the area. He explained that pistachio trees required patience, with growers often waiting around six years before obtaining a meaningful harvest.

The methods had changed considerably during his time in the industry, particularly as mechanical harvesting replaced much of the work once done by hand.

Bob believed pistachios were performing comparatively well at a time when some other crops, including wine grapes, were facing difficult market conditions. He was nevertheless cautious about the possibility of too many growers entering the industry and creating an oversupply.

Macca also wanted to know whether pistachios were good for you, prompting Bob to offer a rather unexpected answer. “Aphrodisiacs,” he declared.

Macca made him repeat the word, and the conversation briefly wandered away from agricultural economics before returning to the more practical concerns of growing and selling nuts.

Six Generations of Fruit Growing, and a Business That Had to Change

Michael Roy’s family had been involved in South Australian agriculture for six generations, with a history he traced back to nineteenth-century European migration and the establishment of farming communities in the colony.

Over time, the family had worked with livestock, cereals and horticulture, eventually concentrating on fruit production around Renmark.

Michael’s present operation grew crops including apricots, pears, plums, nectarines and peaches, but he explained that producing good fruit was only part of what was required to keep a farming business viable.

About 25 years earlier, someone had advised him to stop thinking solely as a grower. Michael gradually came to see the importance of controlling more of what happened to his produce after it left the orchard.

He told Macca that his business now handled production, processing, packaging, marketing and freight, allowing him to take a more direct role in selling the fruit rather than relying entirely on intermediaries.

The operation employed a permanent workforce, supplemented by seasonal workers during the harvest. Michael recalled one employee who had been associated with the business for 65 years, a remarkable period of service in an industry where physical work could be particularly demanding.

During the hottest parts of a Riverland summer, he explained, fruit picking often had to finish around lunchtime.

Michael also spoke about the commercial pressure he believed growers faced to harvest fruit before it had fully matured. In his experience, allowing fruit to ripen longer could improve flavour, particularly when it was destined for drying rather than immediate sale.

He made additional claims about the nutritional benefits of dried fruit, although those would require separate scientific evidence before being treated as established health advice. His broader point concerned the relationship between ripeness, flavour and the commercial decisions growers had to make.

Macca was interested in the quality of local apricots, and Michael had brought along some jam for him to try. An invitation to visit the farm followed, although Macca was quick to establish one condition. “I’m not going picking, man.”

Sixteen Years of Walking, Talking and Leaving the Husbands at Home

The women Macca encountered in Renmark had been taking walking holidays together for around 16 years, beginning when several members of the group were approaching their 50th birthdays.

Many had worked in agriculture or related industries around Echuca and Moama, and they decided they needed more opportunities to enjoy themselves away from their everyday responsibilities.

Walking became the common activity, but the friendships soon developed a life of their own. Over the years, the group travelled across Australia and ventured overseas to New Zealand and Vietnam, finding new places to explore and plenty of time to talk along the way.

Macca initially assumed they were runners, having recently spoken to someone involved in parkrun.

“We’re not runners, Macca. We’re walkers,” Sue corrected him, while another member added that they were walkers and talkers.

Joanna was more interested in explaining what the group had come to mean to its members. “Friendship, love, support, women looking after each other.”

They had helped one another through difficult stretches of terrain and supported each other through personal challenges, with the annual trips providing a regular opportunity to reconnect.

Macca wondered whether men were ever invited to join, but the women were quite content to travel without their husbands. The men apparently had their own tradition of gathering for a deserted husbands’ dinner while their wives were away.

The walkers insisted that nobody in their group was ever left behind, which gave Macca an opening to ask whether the husbands might disagree. The women seemed perfectly happy to leave that question unanswered.

Susie and the Saturday Morning Ritual Beside the Murray

Renmark’s Saturday morning parkrun had become a regular gathering for locals and visitors by the time Macca met Susie, who had been involved with the event for around a decade.

She told him the local course had reached its 463rd event and generally attracted between 50 and 70 participants, although holiday periods could bring considerably larger numbers.

The five-kilometre route followed the riverfront, and Susie particularly enjoyed hearing visitors comment on the scenery.

Macca was less enthusiastic about the running itself, joking that someone ought to find the man responsible for inventing parkrun and sue him.

Susie explained that running was entirely optional. “You don’t have to run. You can walk.”

That accessibility was part of what she valued about the event. Some participants arrived intending only to walk, then gradually began jogging and eventually found themselves trying to improve their personal best times. Others were content to enjoy the company, exercise and familiar Saturday morning routine.

Susie had watched her own children grow up around parkrun, progressing from youngsters attending with the family to runners in their own right.

She volunteered as a run director every few weeks and participated herself on other Saturdays, making the event both a community commitment and something she continued to enjoy personally.

On the morning Macca visited, she estimated that roughly half the participants were visitors, an indication of how the Renmark course had become part of the wider parkrun network.

For Susie, the riverfront setting was a source of pride, and the regular gathering gave her another reason to appreciate the town she called home.

Pino’s Father’s Day Invitation — Breakfast in a Cane Paddock

Pino had an invitation for Macca that involved a sugarcane paddock near Ingham, a harvesting crew and a breakfast tradition his family had maintained for years.

Every Father’s Day, his wife brought food out to the workers, who stopped harvesting for about half an hour before returning to their machines. Pino thought it would make an ideal setting for an Australia All Over broadcast and invited Macca to join them the following year.

The only complication was the working day, which began at three in the morning.

“If you want to start at the same time as we do, at 3 am, well, you can be here at 3 am,” Pino offered, adding that Macca would be welcome to climb aboard the harvester and travel through the cane with him.

Their discussion moved into the progress of the North Queensland sugar season. Pino estimated that harvesting was around 58 or 59 per cent complete, with the crop broadly comparable to the previous year, although he remained concerned about rain interrupting the remaining work.

Macca was interested in the ownership of Queensland’s sugar mills, and Pino spoke about several of the major companies operating in the industry. He also expressed disappointment about the closure of the Mossman mill, reflecting on the changes affecting communities where sugarcane had been an important part of local life for generations.

He hoped the industry would remain viable and continue providing work in North Queensland, although he made no attempt to predict what the future would bring.

The conversation eventually returned to breakfast, with Macca suggesting that perhaps they could arrange a visit without waiting until Father’s Day.

Pino was happy to consider it, but there was an obvious advantage to coming on the traditional date: that was when his wife would be bringing the food.

Whether Macca ever found himself broadcasting from an Ingham cane paddock at three in the morning remained to be seen, but the invitation was genuine, and the prospect of breakfast among the harvesters was clearly appealing.

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.

A road trip in a 1961 EK Holden. A truckload of mandarins in Queensland. Bees, butterflies, wool, rain and a thousand-year-old tree.

It was one of those Australia All Over mornings where every caller seemed to open a different door into Australian life.

Northbound in an EK Holden

The first caller was another Macca, this one from Mount Waverley in Melbourne, who was preparing to drive his 1961 EK Holden to Cairns.

The trip would take him through Cooly Rocks On at Coolangatta before a detour to Stanthorpe for the FB-EK Holden Nationals. He’d travelled north before, but not in the EK.

When Macca asked whether he trusted the old Holden to make it all the way, the answer came without hesitation.

“No worries. I’m more worried about the driver doing it.”

The call would prove to be the first of several involving old Holdens and long Australian roads.

A Truckload of Fruit in Mundubbera

Peter rang from the middle of the citrus season in Mundubbera.

At first the line was breaking up badly until he explained why.

“Hang on a second, I’ll just pull up. I’ve got a truckload of bloody fruit.”

Peter works logistics across several citrus farms, moving fruit from orchards to packing sheds and then on to dispatch centres. The season is a busy one and he told Macca they were regularly putting in 13-hour days.

The conversation wandered all over the place, as good Australia All Over conversations often do. It started with export markets and moved into stink bugs, pest management, contractors, seasonal workers and the realities of running large orchards.

Macca was particularly interested in how commercial growers deal with the same pests that plague backyard citrus trees.

By the end they had arrived at fruit varieties.

Peter’s recommendation was straightforward.

“If you ever try one, try Royal Honey Murcotts. They come out of Mundubbera and they are bloody beautiful.”

When the harvest season finishes, Peter and his wife put work aside and spend months travelling Australia in a caravan.

Beauty in a Remote Place

One caller reflected on a visit to Kerguelen Island, a place so remote that most Australians will never see it in person.

He described the volcanic landscape, Christmas Harbour, elephant seals and the traces left behind by explorers who passed through over the centuries.

What interested him wasn’t the harshness of the place so much as the life hidden within it. He compared it to walking the Larapinta Trail — landscapes that appear barren until you slow down and start noticing the details.

The conversation was brief but memorable, the sort of call that takes listeners somewhere completely unexpected.

Finally Making the Call

Dave from Bamboo, north of Mossman, had been listening since the early 1980s but had never rung the program.

Until now.

“It’s taken me a long time to ring you, but I thought I’ve got to get this off the bucket list.”

His introduction to Australia All Over came while he was living aboard a yacht in Cairns Harbour. A friend rowed over one morning and told him there was a bloke on the radio who was “half interesting”.

Macca appreciated that description.

The call became a tour through Dave’s working life. He restored furniture in Port Douglas, sailed extensively and spent time working on cattle stations in Cape York.

One story particularly amused Macca.

Dave described himself as a “hey-you”.

On a cattle station, he explained, whenever something broke somebody would yell, “Hey you, mate,” and off he’d go to deal with it.

The conversation eventually drifted towards the changing face of Far North Queensland. Dave reflected on how much places like Cairns and Port Douglas had changed since he first arrived there decades ago.

From Singapore to the Bee Yard

Rachel called while driving to the Bundanon Trust Providore Marketplace in the Shoalhaven.

The call began with a discussion about varroa mite and small hive beetle, two problems that have made life difficult for beekeepers across New South Wales.

But Rachel’s own story quickly became the focus.

Years ago she was living in Singapore, working in the corporate world and travelling regularly. After returning to Australia she became interested in beekeeping through the Flow Hive movement and the work of Cedar and Stuart Anderson.

One hive led to another.

Today she teaches children and adults about bees and regularly introduces people to their first hive inspection.

One of her favourite moments is watching children see inside a hive for the first time.

“Their whole world just changes.”

Asked whether she missed her previous corporate life, Rachel didn’t need much time to think about it.

“Not at all.”

The Last Day at the Butterfly House

Ray Archer from Grantham rang with news that was both sad and uplifting.

It was the final day of operation for the Garden of Eden Butterfly House.

Ray and his wife had already spent years helping build and operate the Bribie Island Butterfly House before establishing the Grantham attraction. Along the way, he said, volunteer efforts had helped raise more than $1 million for charity.

The decision to close wasn’t driven by a lack of enthusiasm.

Following eye surgery, Ray has been dealing with double vision and depth perception issues that make the laboratory work increasingly difficult.

What stood out during the conversation was that Ray kept steering the discussion back to butterflies.

He spoke about breeding programs, disease management and the work that went into restoring healthy Ulysses butterfly populations.

Even when discussing the closure, he was still encouraging listeners to create habitat in their own gardens.

“You can grow butterfly-attracting plants.”

Earlier in the call he had introduced the story with a line that seemed to sum up both the project and the partnership behind it.

“My bride of 58 years and I…”

Wool, Kelpies and Knitting Needles

The All Over News segment took listeners through a busy calendar of rural events.

There were mentions of the Isisford Sheep and Wool Show, the Victorian Sheep Show at Ballarat, the Kelpie Muster at Casterton and the Alice Springs Beanie Festival.

Macca then spent some time revisiting the history of the Back-to-Back Wool Challenge, where competitors race to shear a sheep, spin the wool and knit a garment in record time.

A letter from Dawn Dunlop traced the origins of the challenge back to an 1811 wager in Berkshire, England, while Macca recalled watching a particularly impressive knitter at Murray Bridge many years ago.

He compared elite knitters to elite fruit pickers — specialists whose speed and skill only become apparent when you watch them at work.

A Conversation About Lifeline

During the week Macca attended Lifeline Australia’s National Congress and spoke with Michael Weir.

Weir discussed the growing demand for support services and reflected on the paradox of modern life: people are more connected than ever, yet many still feel isolated.

He encouraged listeners not to hesitate if they need help.

“Feel free to call. Don’t be afraid. Call us.”

Soup, Kookaburras and ABC Unearthed

A couple of shorter notes also caught Macca’s attention.

Gail Napier posed a simple question about a packet soup proudly labelled as Australian-made despite containing less than 10 per cent Australian ingredients.

Meanwhile, Vassilios Evangelou — better known as Bill — wrote in to draw attention to his composition Canungra Kookaburra, available through ABC Unearthed.

Rain at Last in Carnarvon

Joyce from Carnarvon had good news.

After dealing with heatwaves, cyclones, flooding and drought, her region had finally received some decent rain.

The way she described it probably resonated with plenty of listeners.

“It’s just so lovely to lie in bed listening to it.”

She also spoke about hay deliveries reaching struggling pastoral districts, including parts of the Murchison (?), where many producers have been doing it tough.

211 WB Utes

Bill called from between Moama and Deniliquin after attending the fourth annual WB Ute Run.

This year’s event attracted 211 WB utes, a remarkable turnout for what began as a much smaller gathering.

Bill praised organisers Shaun and Hayley Trotter and described a weekend built around friendship, storytelling and old Holdens.

The appeal wasn’t difficult to understand. Many of the owners had wanted one of these utes since they left school.

“We’re all 50 to 60-year-olds and we’re like little kids in a toy shop again.”

Macca suggested the vehicles might be breeding.

A New Purpose for an Old Tree

Helen rang from Guildford in Victoria to talk about the town’s famous big tree.

The red gum is believed to be somewhere between 500 and 1,000 years old. After a major limb fell in 2024, the timber was turned into a reconciliation seat that was being unveiled that day.

For Helen and many other locals, the tree is far more than a landmark.

It’s part of the town’s story.

Why I Live Where I Live

The regular segment delivered several memorable contributions.

Peter Chapman wrote from South Australia’s Fleurieu Peninsula, describing a life that has included building, bush poetry, hospital chaplaincy and countless kilometres on Australian roads. His explanation for remaining in the region was difficult to top.

“The wrong girl brought me here and the right girl kept me here.”

David Skimmings wrote from Lorn near Maitland, reflecting on the comfort that comes from living somewhere long enough that its history becomes intertwined with your own.

Macca also revisited a letter from Dorothy at Encounter Lakes near Victor Harbour. Years after travelling around Australia, she had found the place where she wanted to stay. The discussion led into a poem by Max Fatchen celebrating the whales that visit the South Australian coast each year.

Together, the letters captured one of the recurring themes of Australia All Over.

People often start by talking about a place.

They usually end up talking about belonging.

Looking Towards Mackay

The final caller was Shane from Grange in Adelaide.

After 20 years in aviation, he and his partner are preparing for a move north to Mackay. Friends who recently relocated had already delivered a glowing review of life there and Shane sounded increasingly convinced.

The move isn’t happening tomorrow, but the planning has begun.

Like many callers throughout the morning, he found himself standing between the familiar and the unknown, looking ahead to whatever comes next.

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.

Gliders, leeches, opera in Winton and the stories that stitched Australia together

Macca began the morning with a confession.

He had walked out of a movie.

Not just any movie, but The Devil Wears Prada 2, lured in by a glowing review in The Australian by Nikki Gemmell. He should have known better, he reckoned. American films, he said, just did not do it for him the way French or Italian cinema could. Macca reckoned Anne Hathaway had overplayed it, Meryl Streep was there, and somewhere before the end, he found himself sitting in the foyer on his phone while everyone else stayed put.

It was, he said, the first movie he had ever walked out on.

A very Macca way to begin a Sunday.

Then the calls started, and Australia opened up.

Two schoolboys take to the sky

Mark rang from Mount Beauty, where he lives on the airfield and has been flying gliders for nearly 50 years.

His reason for calling was simple and unexpectedly heartening: two 16-year-old boys from the local school had just completed their first solo glider flights.

For Mark, that mattered.

When he learned to fly, young people were everywhere in the sport. Now, he said, gliding clubs are increasingly filled with older people. Seeing teenagers come through again felt like something worth celebrating.

Macca wanted to know whether gliding was really as safe as people claimed, or whether it was basically “a wing and a prayer”.

Mark laughed that off. The aircraft are properly controlled, three-axis machines like any other plane. At Mount Beauty they launch by winch rather than tow plane, making it cheaper and more accessible for younger learners. Students generally need somewhere between 20 and 40 flights before their first solo.

The real picture emerged when Mark described where all this happens: in the foothills of Mount Bogong, Victoria’s highest mountain, with spring flights over snow country.

By the end of the conversation, Macca — still suspicious of aircraft without engines — had half-promised to go up one day.

Thomas pedals the continent

Then came Thomas, calling from Ingham, in the middle of cycling around Australia.

Not an e-bike, he was quick to stress. No batteries.

A pushbike.

He had started in Perth in February and already covered about 7,300 kilometres. Ahead lay Cairns, Darwin, Broome and eventually the long road back.

Thomas is German, retired, and formerly worked for Volkswagen — not on the factory floor, as Macca first guessed, but as a development engineer who eventually became an executive.

Now he had swapped the automotive world for a bicycle and endless Australian roads.

Why Australia?

Because it was huge, varied and safe.

But what he loved most was not the scenery.

It was Australians.

People stopping to talk. The openness. The ease with which strangers became conversations.

For a man who had spent a career building cars, slowing down had become the real adventure.

Tony and Avril’s tropical horror story

Tony and Avril Ayling called from Hideaway Bay, where the south-east trades had finally eased after weeks of wind.

The original topic was underwater conditions, but the conversation took a sharp turn toward blood loss.

Unable to dive because of the weather, the pair had been walking instead.

The first trip took them through Conway National Park behind Airlie Beach, a rainforest hike complete with rudimentary camps, old forestry trails — and leeches.

Tony, in what he would later admit was a poor decision, wore sandals.

He ended up with about a dozen bites. By bedtime, his feet were still bleeding, so he put plastic bags over them to protect his sleeping bag.

Unfortunately, one leech had attached itself just before the bags went on.

By morning, the bag was full of blood and the leech, as Tony cheerfully described it, was “very fat and happy”.

Macca tried to shut the story down there.

Tony kept going.

There were also feral pigs around the campsite, grunting near the tent overnight and wallowing in yellow clay “beauty spas”.

That prompted Macca into one of his broader reflections about Australia’s pig problem — plague proportions, environmental destruction, agricultural risk, and the looming nightmare scenario if something like foot-and-mouth ever arrived.

Tony’s second walk was considerably less grotesque.

The newly opened Ngaro Track on Whitsunday Island took them around Whitehaven Beach and Hill Inlet over three days, with good camps, extraordinary views and — mercifully — no pigs.

Avril helped orient Macca geographically through the Whitsunday islands, and by the end of the call he was audibly making mental holiday plans.

Alice Springs and the last beanie hurrah

Phil rang from Alice Springs with an invitation.

The Beanie Festival, one of Central Australia’s more delightfully eccentric institutions, was coming up in June at the Araluen Arts Centre.

And it would be the last one.

Not because people had stopped loving it.

Quite the opposite.

The festival, founded by Jo Nixon and family decades ago, had grown from a small workshop into a wildly successful event selling thousands of beanies, tea cosies and assorted woollen creations each year.

But after 30 years, the organisers were understandably tired.

Phil hoped Macca might bring the show to Alice Springs for one last celebration.

Macca was immediately tempted.

He admitted he owned a couple of excellent beanies himself and described some creations as less wearable winter gear than actual works of art.

Alice in winter, beanies everywhere, perhaps an outside broadcast.

The seed was planted.

Winton turns on a weekend

Anita Salisbury rang from the veranda of the North Gregory Hotel in Winton, looking out over one of those glorious outback mornings that instantly make city listeners envious.

She had come from Monto with a group of about 50 people to support friend and artist Bradley Short, whose exhibition Under the Shade had opened at the Outback Regional Gallery at the Waltzing Matilda Centre.

The paintings focused on hats.

Not neat showroom hats.

Proper hats.

Sweated-through hats, cattle-yard hats, hats with stories and dents and years in them.

Anita explained that Bradley had asked her years earlier to help source hats with character, after being inspired by one worn by her husband.

The resulting cast of characters included cane farmers, bull riders, butchers, mango growers, backpackers and even a long-unsold relic from Searle’s Outback Store in Winton.

And because this was Winton, Graham Connors had casually appeared with a guitar and performed during the exhibition opening.

Anita had also driven in from Longreach and was still awestruck by the country.

Forage sorghum between Longreach and Winton. Vast plains. Late afternoon light. That unmistakable western Queensland sunset.

“It was an absolute pleasure to be an Australian,” she said.

And for once, that did not sound remotely sentimental.

Krista’s unforgettable gardening lesson

Krista from Inverell rang because Tony’s leech saga had stirred a memory.

Her story was worse.

A lifelong gardener, she described herself as someone incapable of seeing an interesting plant without wanting to bring a piece of it home.

After lunch one day, she spotted a tree covered in striking white flowers, snapped off a few cuttings, and carried them in her lap.

Hours later, she started itching.

Then she noticed tiny black dots all over her body.

At emergency, a visiting doctor initially suspected bed bugs.

Krista, firmly unimpressed by that theory, insisted they were baby ticks.

She was right.

Seventeen of them.

One lodged in her groin. Others across her chest. One embedded so awkwardly her GP later had to cut it out.

Macca sounded genuinely horrified.

Krista, on the other hand, told the story with the practical resilience of someone who has accepted that life occasionally becomes ridiculous.

And then, almost as an afterthought, she casually added another cautionary tale about taking a cutting in Port Macquarie, walking into unseen latticework, being knocked backwards, and breaking her right leg in two places.

Gardening, it seems, has become unexpectedly hazardous.

Teenie’s African tick expertise

Krista’s story prompted Teenie from South Gippsland to call.

She knew exactly what Krista was talking about.

In South Africa, where she travels regularly for conservation work through Wildlife ACT, the tiny ones are known as pepper ticks.

The larger ticks are easy enough to spot and remove.

The pepper ticks are another matter.

Tiny, stubborn, miserable little things.

Teenie spends weeks at a time in KwaZulu-Natal helping count endangered animals and contribute to field conservation work, preferring projects where the money directly supports wildlife rather than commercial tourism.

The accommodation is basic. The bush is remote. The wildlife extraordinary.

And yes, ticks are simply part of the deal.

Macca seemed equal parts fascinated and horrified.

Teenie, meanwhile, sounded like someone already planning her next trip.

Judy’s soy campaign gathers steam

Judy Plath from Bundaberg had become one of those recurring callers whose conversations reliably end with Macca either inspired or mildly depressed.

This time, both.

After their earlier discussion about Australian-grown soy milk, Judy reported some tangible results.

A café owner in Bundaberg had heard the segment and switched to Australian-made Vitasoy. Another café manager from the Gold Coast got in touch asking how to source it.

Judy could sense momentum.

A quiet little campaign was underway.

Then came the darker turn.

Macca had recently looked at a tin of baked beans claiming to be 47 per cent Australian made, and found himself baffled by what exactly that meant.

Judy, a navy bean agronomist, explained.

The beans themselves, she said, are imported.

Australia once had a thriving navy bean industry, especially around Kingaroy, dating back to the Second World War, when American troops stationed in Queensland helped drive demand for baked beans.

According to Judy, that industry is now gone.

Cheaper imports, she argued, won.

Even seed stock, she said, has effectively disappeared.

Macca groaned that every time Judy rang, she managed to depress him.

But Judy’s bigger point was serious.

Kingaroy has already lost peanuts and navy beans. The conversation about food security and domestic production is no longer abstract for communities that have watched industries quietly vanish.

A timely vaccination reminder

The program also revisited a conversation with Professor Michael Woodward from Melbourne, who had been speaking about vaccinations for older Australians.

Woodward, from Austin Hospital and the University of Melbourne, said vaccination remains one of the most effective public-health tools available, second only to clean drinking water in its overall impact.

His particular concern was older Australians missing out on newer protections.

RSV vaccines. Pneumonia vaccines. COVID boosters still relevant in aged care settings.

His message was straightforward: if older family members are not discussing vaccinations with their GP, they probably should be.

It was one of those practical public-service conversations that sit naturally among the more colourful storytelling.

Tom’s frustration with the budget

Tom called from Brunswick, near Bunbury, on his way to work at the port.

A stevedore by trade, he had switched the radio on, heard Macca, and decided to ring about the federal budget.

His frustration was measured rather than theatrical, which made it more compelling.

Tom’s concern centred on younger Australians trying to build wealth and eventually buy homes.

He argued that changes to capital gains arrangements would disproportionately hurt younger investors, while older Australians with established gains would largely be shielded.

But the broader emotion behind the call was unmistakable.

Inflation. Interest rates. Housing affordability. Raising a family. Watching the numbers become harder to make work.

He was not delivering a political talking point.

He sounded like someone genuinely trying to understand how the arithmetic of modern life had become so unforgiving.

Macca let him talk.

That was the right instinct.

Kelly’s awareness message — and Cole’s relief

Kelly called from Canberra, where Anna’s Walk for BEAT Bladder Cancer Australia was taking place as part of International Bladder Cancer Awareness Month.

A urologist working in research and education at UNSW, Kelly used the call to push a simple but important message.

Blood in the urine?

Get it checked.

Symptoms that keep being dismissed as recurring urinary tract infections?

Push for answers.

Kelly said bladder cancer is increasingly being diagnosed beyond its traditional older-male demographic.

Later, that message became intensely personal.

Cole from Turrella rang in to say the segment resonated with him.

After not feeling quite right, he had been referred through Hurstville Hospital, seen the right specialist quickly, and undergone surgery that week.

He was still awaiting biopsy results, but the immediate improvement in how he felt was dramatic.

The gratitude in his voice was unmistakable.

Then the conversation shifted.

Cole mentioned the earlier gliding call and proudly noted that his own teenage niece — fittingly named Amelia — was already doing solo flights and aiming to become a commercial pilot.

For a few moments, illness gave way entirely to possibility.

Antarctica, seafarers and the people who keep things moving

The sea ran through much of the latter part of the program.

Former Aurora Australis captain Murray Doyle reflected on repeated Antarctic voyages — the savage Southern Ocean crossings, the spectacle of moving through sea ice, and the strange beauty of watching Antarctica emerge while Andrea Bocelli played in the background.

He spoke like someone who had endured plenty but still missed it.

Once you had been to Antarctica, he said, you always wanted to return.

That memory triggered another call from Jeff in Port Pirie, who had gone south aboard the Nella Dan in the early 1970s.

His recollection of sleeping in violently rolling bunks sounded grim enough. But once the ship entered the sea ice, awe took over.

National service had unexpectedly helped take him there, via a role as a cook.

Macca, who often drifts into reflections about what younger Australians miss out on, mused that structured service of some kind could still open unexpected doors.

The maritime thread continued with Stella Maris national director Tony Cox.

Tony spoke about seafarers as the invisible workforce most Australians rarely think about until supply chains fail.

COVID had made their isolation stark.

Some crews remained trapped aboard vessels for many months, unable to step ashore, dependent on care packages, support and people willing to remember they existed.

It was a sobering reminder that modern convenience rests on workers most people never see.

Gary’s weekend rugby detour

Gary rang from country New South Wales after travelling with Eastwood Rugby for their annual away fixture in Cowra.

The real purpose of the call was simple: to tell listeners what a lovely town Cowra is.

That was enough to send Macca into memory mode.

As a younger man, he said, his band used to play Saturday nights at Eastwood Rugby Club.

Those evenings apparently involved post-match dances occasionally interrupted by enthusiastic lower-grade players forming impromptu scrums on the dance floor and flattening everyone.

Macca described it as fairly low-rent.

He also sounded delighted remembering it.

Gary’s point remained uncomplicated and sincere.

Cowra was worth the trip.

Sometimes that is enough for a call.

Karratha is booming — and Seedy is still de-cluttering

Seedy checked in from Karratha, where he said things were absolutely jumping.

A major fertiliser plant on the Burrup Peninsula. Solar developments. Construction camps full. Traffic building.

For someone who had watched the town evolve over decades, the pace was remarkable.

Seedy himself is retired after 44 years working up there, though retirement seems to involve plenty of tinkering.

He described himself as trying to “de-tinker” his shed so he could eventually move on.

That launched one of those charmingly sideways Macca conversations about clutter, junk, sheds, old habits, and the national inability to throw things away.

Macca described a place near home overflowing with old appliances, trailers and assorted rubbish.

Seedy, to his credit, defended the instinct a little.

People bring him things to fix.

Not everything should be thrown out.

Then the conversation swung back to truckies.

Without truck drivers, Seedy said plainly, the north would stop.

Macca agreed immediately.

It was one of those calls that wandered all over the place and somehow still made perfect sense.

KJ comes home from India

KJ from Blackburn South had just returned from five weeks in India.

His description was vivid.

Heat. Crowds. Extraordinary youth. Deep forests. Elephants. Chai at dawn. Huge social contrasts.

But what stayed with him most was what returning home clarified.

People overseas often ask what is special about Australia.

KJ’s answer was not scenery.

It was balance.

The chance to build a life with room in it.

And compassion.

The everyday kindness of nurses, health workers, ordinary Australians looking after one another.

Then came the line that stopped Macca in his tracks.

Dirty streams, KJ said, may flow into the sea, but they do not change the character of the sea.

Australia, in his eyes, was like that.

It could have sounded overcooked.

Instead, it landed beautifully.

Sharon walks the Cape to Cape

Sharon rang from Margaret River, standing outdoors somewhere along day four of the Cape to Cape Track.

She and her husband had recently retired early, specifically so they could tackle great walks.

The Overland Track in Tasmania was already behind them.

Now they were walking the 132-kilometre stretch from Cape Naturaliste to Cape Leeuwin.

Twenty kilometres or so a day, ocean beside them, snakes, kangaroos and sweeping coastal country.

The phone line was poor.

The picture was excellent.

Macca immediately slipped into that familiar mode where listeners’ adventures become his own imagined itineraries.

You could hear the longing.

Clyde ends the morning exactly right

Then came Clyde.

Seven years old. Nearly eight.

Calling from the car heading from Coonamble to Walgett for an under-eights rugby union match.

He played in the backs for the Coonamble Rams.

His horse was called Bronte.

Next week there were horse sports in Warren.

Life appeared to be arranged exactly as childhood should be.

Macca spoke to him with complete ease — asking about positions, match times, horses, the chance of rain.

No fuss.

No patronising.

Just a warm conversation with a boy on the way to footy.

And somehow that felt like the perfect ending.

Because after a morning that had included gliders, leeches, tropical pigs, art exhibitions, vaccination reminders, budget anxiety, bladder cancer awareness, Antarctic crossings, seafarers, Indian reflections and booming mining towns, the final emotional note belonged to a child heading off to play sport.

Which is exactly what Australia All Over does so well.

It reminds you that for all the scale, complexity and absurdity of the country, most people are simply getting on with life — one conversation at a time.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

isclaimer: ‘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.

A Mother’s Day Morning, From Camels to Code

Mother’s Day on Australia All Over is never just about flowers and breakfast bookings.

As Macca observed at the top of the program, days like this can be both happy and sad. For some, it is celebration. For others, memory. Then came his familiar description of the show itself: a free trip around Australia — and around the world — on a Sunday morning.

This particular trip took listeners from the Australian desert to Dutch war graves, from Olympic Dam to Mount Lofty, from giant cockatoo sculptures crossing the country to a woman ringing from Guangzhou Airport after cycling through the Somme.

It began in the outback.

Walking to Birdsville the Hard Way

Michael rang from Alice Springs as he prepared to join Andrew Harper and the Outback Camel Company on a month-long trek to Birdsville, marking 50 years since Rex Ellis established the business.

Ten walkers. Fourteen camels.

For anyone imagining a leisurely desert ride, Michael quickly clarified things. The camels would carry water, gear and essentials. The humans would be doing the walking.

All of it.

He had trekked with Andrew before, but never anything this long, and there was no mistaking the excitement in his voice. This was clearly something he had been looking forward to for some time.

Macca, picturing those inland winter mornings, drifted into one of his familiar reflections about the clarity of the outback sky and that cold air that makes everything seem sharper and further away.

Michael matched the mood perfectly.

After years of travelling for work and staying in luxury hotels around the world, he said he preferred the “million-star hotel” of the Australian outback.

It sounded like exactly the sort of thing someone about to voluntarily walk to Birdsville behind camels might say.

Hospitality’s Super Bowl

From remote Australia, the program lurched into a completely different sort of endurance event.

Brad from Edithvale was enjoying what he knew would be the last peaceful coffee of his day.

A chef for 25 years and now running his own restaurant, he described Mother’s Day as hospitality’s equivalent of the Super Bowl.

Two hundred breakfast bookings.

Another 150 after that.

And then the inevitable late callers — usually dads, he joked — whispering into the phone in the hope a table might somehow materialise after suddenly remembering what day it was.

Macca understood the pressure immediately. One thing goes wrong in a busy service and the whole day can start sliding sideways.

Brad laughed about the chaos, but the conversation shifted somewhere more personal when he explained why he still listens every Sunday.

As a teenager, he used to listen with his grandfather, who had been an army cook.

His grandfather died just before Brad began formal chef training.

So while the restaurant world became his profession, the Sunday morning listening ritual stayed.

A call that began with breakfast service logistics ended as something unexpectedly warm.

Seven Graves in a Tiny Dutch Village

Chris Head called from the Netherlands, where he and his wife had travelled for an 80th anniversary commemoration for seven Commonwealth airmen killed in a Halifax bomber crash during World War II.

The ceremony took place in a small Frisian village where locals still care for the graves.

That, more than anything, struck Chris.

Not official duty.

Not ceremony.

Just ordinary people, decades later, still deciding these men matter.

The Australian ambassador attended. British representatives were there. Family members of one of the dead airmen had travelled from France.

Chris described it as deeply moving.

And because this was Chris, there was also cycling involved.

He and his wife had brought a pull-apart tandem bicycle and were riding from Amsterdam to Copenhagen.

Macca suggested the Netherlands would be perfect because it is flat.

Chris corrected him immediately.

Yes, flat.

But apparently always a headwind.

Running for Marty

Annette called from Melbourne, where thousands were gathering for the Mother’s Day Classic.

She was running in memory of her friend Marty, who had previously survived breast cancer before the disease returned.

Marty died in February, before turning 50.

Annette has been a runner for years, so this was not some once-a-year act of noble suffering, but there was obvious emotional weight behind this particular run.

Macca managed to keep the tone grounded, joking about the brave but underprepared entrants who would spend the next several days unable to walk properly.

Annette laughed.

Then, because this is Australia All Over, the conversation somehow wandered to Woomargama, Holbrook’s famous submarine, and the broader state of the nation.

That should not work.

It always does.

The Mount Lofty Runner Reading About AI

Linda from Adelaide rang while running up Mount Lofty.

Actually running.

Macca immediately picked up the breathlessness.

Linda insisted she was fitter than she sounded.

She does the climb regularly, trying to stay under 40 minutes. Her best is 38.

Her ideal Mother’s Day sounded surprisingly appealing.

Her children work in hospitality, so they were unavailable.

Her husband was off playing golf.

She would have the house to herself and spend the day reading.

No complaints there.

When Macca asked what she was reading, the conversation took a sharp turn.

Artificial intelligence.

Linda is a software engineer, so this was more than casual interest. She spoke thoughtfully about AI’s implications, prompting Macca to recount a recent conversation with Gerry Harvey about how quickly businesses are being forced to rethink everything.

From there the discussion wandered into robot anxiety, technological acceleration, Mars, and humanity’s odd habit of racing toward uncertain futures.

It could easily have sounded ridiculous.

Instead, it sounded like two people from different vantage points trying to make sense of a rapidly shifting world.

The Bay of Islands and the Brain Drain

Ross called from New Zealand’s Bay of Islands, where he and his partner now live after moving from Sydney.

His partner is a New Zealander, and the move had been part of the long-term plan for years before COVID complicated the timetable.

Now settled in Paihia, Ross spends time around the local sailing club, helping with youth coaching and enjoying what he described as a kind of mini Whitsundays.

Macca wanted to know what life felt like across the Tasman at the moment.

Ross answered plainly.

The cost of living is high. Jobs are tighter. But what concerned him most was the steady movement of younger New Zealanders leaving for better wages elsewhere, particularly Australia.

He described it as a brain drain.

The conversation never became political or combative. It sounded more like two people recognising the same demographic pattern playing out in different places.

Ross had done Sydney to Hobarts in years gone by and plenty of offshore racing.

These days, life is quieter.

But he clearly loves where he is.

Seven Days On, Seven Days Off

Aaron called from outside Olympic Dam, rugged up against the desert cold and using one of the now-free public phones.

He has spent more than 20 years in mining and described the rhythm of seven days on, seven days off.

Yes, the money matters.

But what Aaron kept returning to was time.

A full week off at a stretch changes what life looks like.

Stack a little leave onto that and suddenly proper travel becomes possible.

He spoke warmly about the camaraderie at the mine and the people around him, even shouting out a mate working nearby.

There was none of the caricatured mining swagger sometimes attached to these conversations.

Mostly, Aaron sounded like someone who genuinely enjoys the life.

That did not mean pretending the arrangement is easy.

He openly acknowledged the reality that FIFO only works because the family at home makes it work.

Then came his “40 before 40” list.

Forty things he had never done before turning 40.

A rodeo at Murray Bridge was already ticked off.

Bungee jumping was next.

By the end of the call, he was also trying to claim one of the program’s medium T-shirts.

Two Giant Carnaby’s Black Cockatoos Crossing the Country

Truck driver Eric Durin had freight guaranteed to attract attention.

Two enormous Carnaby’s black cockatoo sculptures, built in Brisbane and heading home to Moora in Western Australia.

Seven metres tall.

Not exactly subtle.

Eric admitted he had been “conned” into hauling them.

Everywhere he stopped, people wanted a look.

At one point, some of the support structure started coming apart, forcing an improvised roadside repair involving drills, screws and practical bush engineering.

Eric sounded more amused than irritated.

Queensland roads, however, did not emerge from the conversation especially well.

Cotton Snow Outside Bourke

Lenny from Dartmouth rang while driving a pilot vehicle behind slashers near Bourke.

The image he painted was extraordinary.

Cotton drifting across the highway in enough volume to make it look like snow.

Macca immediately wanted photos.

Lenny, who had clearly seen plenty in his years on the road, also described the harsher realities of the region.

Roadkill everywhere.

Kangaroos, goats, foxes, emus, wild cats.

Dry country has its own brutal arithmetic.

Listeners could hear him pausing mid-conversation to radio warnings about approaching traffic.

Live radio in the middle of nowhere.

Tania Finds Her Groove in Mount Isa

Tania Kernaghan called from Mount Isa after spending several days immersed in the sort of event that clearly appealed to Macca.

A 1940s-themed gala at the Underground Hospital Museum.

Vintage music. Wartime nostalgia. Dancing.

Tania admitted she had spent much of the evening happily tapping her feet and quietly hoping someone might ask her onto the dance floor.

The Underground Hospital itself became part of the conversation — wartime fears, northern Australia’s vulnerability, and the remarkable history that remains beneath the town.

Then came the Queensland Music Trails finale.

But what lingered from the conversation was not the event schedule.

It was Tania’s affection for Mount Isa.

The landscape impressed her, certainly.

But the thing she kept returning to was the people.

That unmistakable outback sense of community.

A Last Flight Over the Farm

Some calls stop you.

Michael’s was one of them.

A milk tanker driver from Victoria, he rang to tell the story of his brother-in-law Terrence, who was dying.

When palliative care staff asked what his final wish might be, Terrence gave a simple answer.

One more trip around the farm.

The family found a way to make that happen in a far more memorable fashion.

A helicopter was organised.

Terrence and his son flew over the property together.

Three days later, he was gone.

Michael told the story without drama.

That made it land harder.

No embellishment.

Just a family finding a way to do something meaningful while there was still time.

A Conservation Fight North of Perth

Linda from Guilderton used her call to advocate for a proposed national park north of Perth.

Her focus was preserving bushland, biodiversity and critical habitat, particularly for Carnaby’s black cockatoos.

That unexpectedly linked neatly back to Eric’s giant sculptures.

Linda had even contributed to the fundraising effort behind them.

One of those accidental narrative threads live radio creates all by itself.

Parliament, Princes and the Royal Exhibition Building

Alan from Melbourne delivered the sort of history lesson that only really works when the person telling it genuinely loves the material.

The 125th anniversary of the first sitting of the Commonwealth Parliament at Melbourne’s Royal Exhibition Building had just been marked, and Alan had clearly enjoyed every detail.

Not just the broad historical significance.

The specifics.

The Charles Nuttall painting depicting the occasion.

The horse-drawn carriage used by the visiting royals.

Even the timber steps built so the Duke of Cornwall and York could properly ascend the dais.

The sort of historical detail that sounds niche until someone enthusiastic makes it interesting.

Alan managed exactly that.

Chemicals, Trucks and the Pilbara Reality

Kingy rang from Western Australia after hauling chemicals from a remote mine site.

His broad message was simple.

Mining remains busy.

Infrastructure is under pressure.

Roads are crowded. Truck movements are constant. Delays are common.

From Kingy’s perspective, more freight should be shifted to rail.

It was a practical conversation rather than a rant — the view of someone who spends his life on those roads.

Then the call shifted unexpectedly.

Family came up.

His mother had died eight years earlier. His father and brother were gone too.

“I’m it,” he said.

A short sentence that changed the emotional temperature of the conversation immediately.

Because it was Mother’s Day, he finished by sending his regards to all the mums listening.

Calling Home from Guangzhou

Maxine rang while transiting through Guangzhou Airport after a family cycling trip through the Somme battlefields.

She and her brothers had travelled through Europe before tackling the battlefield route by bike.

The emotional impact of places like Villers-Bretonneux and Tyne Cot was obvious in the way she described them.

It is one thing to visit war cemeteries.

It is another to move through those landscapes slowly, by bicycle, seeing villages, roadsides and poppies in between.

That intimacy gave the experience a different feel.

The conversation broadened into travel observations — Europe’s cost pressures, housing conversations, the comparisons people inevitably make with life back home.

Travel often does that.

It reminds you your own country’s problems are not always unique.

Luna Park, Showmen and a Woman Named Luna

Helen Pitt joined Macca in studio to discuss her book on Luna Park, and the conversation turned into one of the morning’s more entertaining detours.

Most listeners would assume the name comes from the moon.

Helen explained otherwise.

Luna Dundy, sister of one of the original founders.

That revelation alone was worth the segment.

From there the discussion expanded into amusement history, travelling showmen, scenic railways, forgotten Brisbane Luna Park connections and the strange physical reality of old thrill rides.

At one point came the unforgettable phrase “protein spill” — apparently the polite term for what happens when rides overwhelm certain stomachs.

Only Australia All Over could move from war graves and dying wishes to that without it feeling strange.

A Timely Push on Vaccination

Professor Michael Woodward brought a practical public-health note to the morning.

Calling from Melbourne, he encouraged older Australians to talk with their GP or pharmacist about vaccinations, particularly with newer RSV and pneumonia protections becoming more accessible.

His tone was measured rather than alarmist.

Brief, useful, entirely in keeping with the audience.

The Story That Wouldn’t Stay Buried

One of the most compelling stretches of the morning came not from a live caller, but an old letter Macca read about Jack Sargent.

According to the letter, Sargent’s life was extraordinary.

A remarkable solo river voyage.

Wartime service in Portuguese Timor with Sparrow Force.

Improvised communications.

The sort of story that sounds almost fictional if not told with enough specificity.

Macca read it with obvious admiration.

And then came the perfect postscript.

Listener Kerry Ferris wrote in to say she had known Jack and his wife Kathleen as neighbours near Gympie.

That changed the story slightly.

History stopped being distant.

It became personal again.

The Sunday Morning Tapestry

By the time the program wound down, listeners had travelled quite some distance.

Camels heading toward Birdsville.

Restaurant kitchens under siege.

Dutch war graves.

Half marathons.

Artificial intelligence.

Mining camps.

Cockatoo sculptures.

Cotton “snow”.

Mount Isa dance floors.

Helicopter farewells.

Pilbara trucking.

Somme battlefields.

Luna Park.

Old wartime letters.

Grief.

Humour.

Memory.

It sounds chaotic written down.

On Australia All Over, it somehow feels exactly right.

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.

A Country Talking — If You Know Where to Listen

You don’t really follow these mornings. You drift through them.

One call rolls into the next — a bit of weather, a bit of work, something remembered, something noticed — and before long you’ve got a clearer read on the country than anything packaged neatly could give you.

This week, it kept circling the same idea.

People are still moving. Still working.

But something’s shifted.

A Soft Start in Borroloola

Samuel’s voice came in low and steady out of Borroloola, like the day hadn’t quite fully started yet.

“Bit foggy this morning… sort of dewy.”

The moon was just going down, and there was a fishing competition building at King Ash Bay — prizes, weigh-ins later, the usual rhythm of a weekend up there.

Macca asked about the crowd.

Samuel didn’t rush the answer.

“Yeah… a few visitors.”

Then, after a beat, he added what mattered.

“Not as many as we expected.”

Fuel, he reckoned. Enough to slow people down.

He didn’t push it any further. Just left it there.

Shearing, Travel and the Cost of It

Dave’s call had movement in it — packing up, heading home, already thinking about the next job.

He’d been shearing around Cootamundra, on his way back to Deniliquin after a solid run.

Macca wandered into the old shearer stories — bikes, rough travel, making do.

Dave gave a quick nod to that.

“They done it tough those days.”

But then brought it back to now.

“You just got to travel to get it these days.”

The work’s still there. It’s everything around it that’s changed.

“It’s not cheap on the road… you’re paying more for everything.”

No drama in it. Just how it is.

When the Desert Comes Alive

Chris came in over a bit of noise — wind, engines, other voices.

He was out in basin country with a crew, heading into another long day.

Macca asked what it looked like out there.

Chris didn’t talk about the job.

“The environment’s gone crazy.”

They’d had rain. Proper rain.

What had been dry weeks earlier was suddenly alive — birds, butterflies, rabbits, everything moving.

He kept listing things, almost like he couldn’t keep up with it himself.

You could hear it happening around him as he spoke.

Working the Same Ground

Phil’s call sat quieter, but it carried something.

He’s working near Batlow and Tumut now, building out transmission lines — pushing access into farmland, working around conditions, taking it as it comes.

But when Macca asked, he reached back.

Last time he called in was 2020.

Fires.

He was on dozers then, cutting firebreaks through that same country.

Different job now. Slower work.

But the same ground.

The Long Way for a Simple Fix

Dean’s call had that steady, long-distance feel to it.

He’d come down from Darwin chasing a gooseneck trailer so the family could get to rodeos without taking two vehicles.

Macca asked how far they travel.

Dean didn’t hesitate.

“We’ll go 1,000 kilometres for a rodeo… 1,400’s not unusual.”

That wasn’t the point though.

The point was the road.

“The road’s very quiet… quieter than I’ve ever seen it.”

He’d been doing that trip for years.

He knew what it usually felt like.

You Feel It From the Driver’s Seat

Matty backed it up straight away.

Heading out of Melbourne towards Dubbo, empty truck, steady run.

“It’s been quiet… very quiet.”

Macca pushed him a bit.

Just today?

“No… it’s been quiet.”

Then he drifted north — New England, west of Dubbo — talking about how dry it is through there.

You could feel how those things sit together for him.

When It Stops Adding Up

Steve and Maria in Tolga spoke like people who’d already made peace with a decision.

Macca brought up their rose business.

They laughed a little.

No, not anymore.

“Trying to compete… it just got too hard.”

They talked through it — fertilisers, labour, imports — but it wasn’t one thing. It was all of it, building over time.

They loved it. That part was clear.

But loving it wasn’t enough to keep it going.

The Things You Don’t Notice

Rick’s call in Townsville came through a bit scratchy.

He runs a window and door business.

Macca had been talking about glass earlier, so Rick jumped in.

“You just can’t get a hold of it anymore.”

Started with coloured glass. Now even the basics are getting harder.

Macca pressed him on it.

What does that actually mean?

Rick explained it in practical terms — people want repairs done properly, like-for-like.

But the materials just aren’t there.

And underneath it all was the part that didn’t quite make sense.

The raw material is here.

The finished product isn’t.

Build Your Own Solution

Doug had already had a morning before he even called.

Driving back from Karumba, a few pigs ran out in front of him.

He took care of them.

Macca picked up on that, but Doug didn’t stay there.

He’s an electrician.

Used to run a motel.

Got fed up with rising power costs.

“So I built one,” he said, describing what he now runs as a local power operation.

From there, Doug just talked it through — how it started, how it grew, what he supplies now.

He didn’t sell it. Didn’t dress it up.

Just told it.

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Big Numbers, Same Problem

Peter came in from Wangaratta with numbers.

Six days near Warren.

About 1,200 pigs.

Macca reacted — that sounds like something.

Peter didn’t pause.

“You don’t even make a dent.”

He explained it — river systems, thick country, places you can’t get into properly.

Back home, he’s seeing more signs.

Ground turned. Movement where there hadn’t been any before.

It’s not a spike.

It’s a spread.

Not Everyone’s Slowing Down

Sue’s call from Mackay lifted the tempo straight away.

More than 500 riders in town for a Harley rally.

Macca asked if she rides.

She laughed.

“I absolutely love it.”

Then the trips came — Uluru, Tasmania, planning a full lap.

“Once you go somewhere… you plan the next one.”

Same roads everyone else was talking about.

Different reason to be on them.

Dry Country, Familiar Voices

Lucy was out near Tamworth, feeding cattle, dog beside her in the ute.

Three dry summers.

“We’re sort of back in 2019 again.”

Macca moved with her through it — drought here, floods somewhere else.

Then the call turned.

She told him she’d written in years ago.

About her dad. A regular listener.

Macca picked it up straight away.

Now she’s the one calling.

Same show.

Different voice.

Seeing It Over Time

Sean and Janine had been on the road for months.

Nullarbor. Up the coast. Through places like Kalbarri.

Macca asked what they’d noticed.

Sean didn’t hesitate.

“There’s not a lot of people out.”

He ran through it — caravan parks, stops, places that should have been fuller.

Not empty.

Just lighter.

Early Days on the Land

Nick was only a few months into farm life in Mickles Rivulet.

Fences still going in. Cattle not quite settled.

Macca asked how it was going.

Nick paused.

“It’s hard… but it’s good.”

Coming from a life at sea, it’s a shift.

And it doesn’t take long, he said, to understand why fewer people are getting into it.

The Drive Back to Alice

Ken was on the road to Alice Springs.

Macca asked what for.

“The Cup.”

His voice lifted slightly.

“Big day… for all the right reasons.”

He’d lived there for decades.

Knows the place.

Knows how it’s talked about.

Then, almost as an aside—

“No one waves anymore.”

Macca laughed.

Ken didn’t.

“I still do.”

Starting Again

Divine’s call sat quietly at the end.

Near Yea, living in a shed after losing her home in the Longwood fires.

Macca asked about rebuilding.

She answered simply.

“I don’t think we will.”

Only been in Australia a year.

There wasn’t much more said.

There didn’t need to be.

One Conversation at a Time

By the end of the morning, it wasn’t one story.

It was the repetition.

Quiet roads. Higher costs. Work still moving.

Different voices, same threads.

You don’t get the country all at once.

You get it like this.

One call at a time.

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.

Voices Across the World on Anzac Weekend

From the cliffs of Gallipoli to a super yacht in the Atlantic, the April 26 broadcast unfolded as it so often does — a patchwork of voices, stitched together by memory, distance and the quiet weight of Anzac weekend.

Gallipoli: Trying to Understand the Inexplicable

Calling from the Gallipoli Peninsula, Angela Lathouras wasn’t trying to retell history — she was trying to make sense of it.

Travelling with historians including Professor Sinan Özdemir from Çanakkale University, she described the terrain as something that defies explanation until you see it.

“You just shake your head everywhere you go,” she said.

Standing at Anzac Cove and walking the ridgelines, she spoke about how small the battlefield really is — and how impossible it feels that so many fought and died in such a confined space.

Reading epitaphs in the cemeteries brought it home.

“Angel mark the spot, Mother.”

“Well done, Ted.”

“They’re just… so moving,” she said. “You could sob the whole time.”

It wasn’t her first visit, but this time was different — less about tracing individual stories, more about understanding the broader picture.

“It’s very hard to reconcile the beauty… with what happened there.”

A Stadium, A City, A Moment

From Christchurch, Jason called with a different kind of milestone — the opening of Te Kaha Stadium.

After 15 years without a major venue following the earthquakes, the city finally had its stadium back — and it was packed.

“Full house all weekend,” he said.

Super Rugby returned in force, but for him, the moment was bigger than sport.

“It’s a big thing for Christchurch.”

Closer to home, he also spoke about his son’s school Anzac ceremony — run entirely by the students.

“I was so proud of the little boys and girls.”

Keeping the Country Moving

In southern New South Wales, Kelvin Baxter’s world is measured in kilometres, crops and fuel.

Running a fleet of trucks across Queensland, New South Wales and Victoria, he’s spent decades moving grain, cotton and fertiliser — the quiet logistics behind Australian life.

“We’re quite busy,” he said. “There’s always something moving.”

But rising costs — especially diesel — remain front of mind.

“People talk about electric trucks… we’re a long way from that.”

His Anzac Day, though, is about something else entirely.

Each year, he and a group of locals take restored WWII jeeps through Berrigan, Jerilderie and Finley, carrying veterans who can’t march.

“We load up the old diggers and lead the parade.”

It’s something he’s done for decades — a small act that keeps connection alive.

War, Medicine and Perspective

In studio, hand surgeon and former umpire David Dilley offered a different lens on Gallipoli — the medical one.

“The planning was appalling,” he said, referencing findings from the Dardanelles Commission.

Basic supplies. Limited understanding. Conditions few had ever encountered.

“They had bandages… a bit of chloroform… and not much else.”

He explained how World War I reshaped medicine — from plastic surgery to trauma care — driven by the scale and nature of injuries.

“It was the first war where more died from enemy action than disease.”

The conversation drifted easily between surgery, cricket and history — as it often does — grounded in experience rather than theory.

Australians Abroad: A Different Kind of Move

Wayne didn’t just travel — he left.

Originally from Sydney’s Northern Beaches, he and his partner now live in what is likely Tulum, trading rising costs at home for something simpler.

“Australia’s getting dearer and dearer,” he said. “Everything costs more.”

After years caravanning across Australia, they wanted a new kind of adventure.

“There’s two economies here,” he said. “The tourist one… and the local one. We’re trying to live the local.”

The weather feels familiar — “like North Queensland” — but the lifestyle is still evolving. They’ve bought a place, are settling into a community, and plan to explore more of the country.

For Wayne, it’s less about escape and more about perspective — seeing how life looks somewhere else.

Remembering, Questioning, Reflecting

Emails filled the spaces between calls, adding context and contrast.

A retired CSIRO ecologist pushed back on claims of widespread reef decline, arguing many remain “healthy and actively growing.”

Another listener described visiting war sites across France and Papua New Guinea, noting how strongly Australia’s contribution is remembered overseas.

“In France, the gratitude is very evident,” he wrote.

Further reflections from listeners touched on family histories, lost relatives, and the long shadow of war — stories carried across generations.

From Japan to Borneo: Memory That Travels

Calls from abroad reinforced how far those memories reach.

In Yokohama, Nan described the Commonwealth War Cemetery — where eucalyptus trees mark the Australian section among carefully tended gardens.

In Sandakan, historian Lynette Silver reflected on decades spent guiding families through the legacy of the Sandakan death marches.

“There’s nothing glorious about being a dead soldier,” she said.

Her work continues to bring people back to those places — not for closure, but for understanding.

Poetry and the Everyday Voice

Poet Kate Llewellyn was named Australian All Over’s contributor of the year — a nod to a lifetime of quiet contribution.

“Poetry is about putting something into the world that wasn’t there before,” she said.

Her work, like the program itself, finds meaning in small, everyday observations — the kind that might otherwise go unnoticed.

Mid-Ocean, Still Connected

Then came Charlotte — calling from the middle of the Atlantic.

“I’m halfway through a crossing,” she said. “Day six… no land in sight.”

At 24, the nurse from near Lismore is working aboard a 60-metre super yacht, moving between the Mediterranean and Caribbean.

“It’s awesome… eternal summer.”

The yacht is worth tens of millions. The guests arrive by private jet. But the crossing itself is all crew — long days, open ocean, and routine.

“They look like normal people,” she said of the ultra-wealthy guests. “Just polos… normal.”

She handles medical needs onboard, blending her training with a lifestyle built around travel.

But the reason she called was simple.

“Mum and Dad listen every Sunday.”

So from the middle of the Atlantic, she rang in — just to say hello.

Harness Racing, Pride and a Christchurch Crossover

Back in Christchurch, Jason slipped in another moment that captured the spirit of the show — where sport, pride and everyday achievement intersect.

He pointed to Brittany Graham, a Queenslander now working in New Zealand racing, who had just pulled off something rare.

“She was presenting… then jumped in the sulky, drove her own horse — and won.”

It wasn’t a feature race — just a meet at Allington Raceway — but the image stuck. From sideline presenter to driver in a matter of minutes.

“She does a lot for racing over here,” he said. “She’s an amazing young lady.”

A small moment, but one that fit the morning — Australians abroad, quietly making their mark.

Trucks, Towns and the Long Way Round

Kelvin Baxter’s call didn’t stop at fuel and freight — it stretched into something bigger.

He spoke about taking part in “Crawling the Hume,” a convoy of more than 300 restored trucks travelling the old highway route through towns long bypassed by the freeway.

Starting near Wallan and winding through places like Broadford, Kilmore and Wangaratta before finishing near Albury, the convoy turned the old road back into a main street, if only for a day.

“People were sitting in camp chairs… cheering us on,” he said.

“They were so pleased to see us come through.”

For towns that once lived off that passing traffic, it was more than nostalgia — it was a reminder they hadn’t been forgotten.

War Stories Carried Through Generations

Among the emails, one stood out for its detail and weight.

A listener shared the story of two brothers — both pilots in World War II, but with very different outcomes.

One survived being shot down over Germany, captured and held as a prisoner of war for years.

The other did not return.

His aircraft, unable to make it back to base, was deliberately steered away from a village in France before crashing — killing all on board but sparing those on the ground.

Decades later, that village still holds a ceremony each year in their memory — a quiet act of gratitude carried on by people who never met them.

Coral, Perspective and Pushing Back

Not every contribution leaned into reflection — some pushed back.

A retired CSIRO ecologist wrote in to challenge claims about dying reefs.

“The majority of reefs I’ve seen are healthy and actively growing,” he said.

He acknowledged localised damage — storms, cyclones, patches of decline — but warned against sweeping statements that miss the bigger picture.

“Reports need context.”

In a morning built on lived experience, it was a reminder that perspective can shift depending on where — and how closely — you look.

War Cemeteries and the Weight of Place

The discussion around remembrance extended beyond Gallipoli.

Listeners spoke about cemeteries across the world — from Villers-Bretonneux to Port Moresby — where Australian stories are preserved far from home.

At places like Labuan War Cemetery, rows of headstones — many unnamed — carry the same inscription:

“Known unto God.”

Walking those rows, some reflected, gives a clearer sense of scale than any history book — line after line, name after name, and sometimes none at all.

“They were united while they were alive… and they’re united still.”

One Conversation at a Time

From Gallipoli to Christchurch, from country highways to open ocean, the program moved without agenda — just people sharing where they are and what they’ve seen.

Stories of war and memory sat alongside everyday life, travel, work and change.

And as always, it worked the same way.

One voice at a time.

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.

From ocean swims to Anzac candles: A morning of quiet rituals, long roads and deeper reflection

Before sunrise, people were already in motion — in the water, on the road, out on verandas or preparing for the day ahead. That’s the shape of a Macca morning: small moments, told simply, that add up to something bigger about how people live and what they hold onto.

Cold water, clear heads

On the Central Coast, Nader was preparing to swim from Maitland Bay to Kilcare — about three and a half kilometres.

“It’s about three and a half kilometres,” he said, as if it were nothing.

But it’s part of a much bigger series — nine legs stretching to around 40 kilometres. Early starts, 12-degree air, 21-degree water. For him, it’s routine.

“It’s just so good for our mental health… everyone should get into it.”

Swimming, as Macca pointed out, has a way of simplifying things. No noise, no clutter. Just movement and breath.

Candles, surfboats and silence

Dawn’s call from Batemans Bay carried more weight.

What began with 300 candles after a visit to Gallipoli has grown to more than 1,300 at Wimbee Beach. Hundreds gather before dawn.

“And the candles just light up the entire foreshore.”

A bagpiper, Jamie Wright, plays from a rocky outcrop. The Ode is shared between an Australian and a New Zealander. Surfboats row in and raise their oars during the Last Post.

But it’s the silence that defines it.

“You can hear a pin drop… there wasn’t a dry eye.”

This year, the message will again be spelled out in candles: Lest We Forget.

Pickleball’s surge

In Blacktown, Gary was heading to the NSW Pickleball Championships.

“We’ve had 1,100 competitors.”

The sport — a mix of tennis, badminton and table tennis — is booming, especially post-COVID. All ages, all backgrounds.

Mixed doubles day brings its own pressure.

“A lot of married couples play together… test the relationship.”

No prize money. Just medals, bragging rights, and a growing community.

A veranda, frost and horses

In the Southern Highlands, Andrew started with a quiet image — a cold morning near Mittagong, mist settling over the valley.

From there, his story stretched wider. Sheep and cattle in New England. Horses from childhood. A family tied to the Australian Stock Horse world.

When asked about campdrafting, he broke it down carefully — separating a beast from the mob, controlling it, then guiding it through a course.

“You show the skill of the horse and the rider… then call for the gate.”

It’s demanding work.

“It is exhausting… but it’s good fun.”

Fuel, freight and hard numbers

For Joel Lydgate, the focus was cost.

“We’re looking at $850 to $1,000 extra… just in fuel.”

That’s per trip.

Fuel has surged sharply — at one point up more than 50 per cent, by his account — and it can’t be absorbed.

“Someone’s got to pay it eventually.”

He reflected on a drought run into the Pilliga, hauling hay when it was needed most.

“If it was diesel prices now… we wouldn’t have done it.”

That’s the shift — goodwill meets reality.

Back in the water — and a confronting return

From Fiji, Kieran Kelly’s call was one of the longest — and most reflective.

After more than 30 years away from diving, he returned expecting familiarity.

“I was stunned.”

He described reefs that felt emptier than he remembered — coral still there in structure, but with less colour and movement.

“All the little houses are still there, but there’s no one in them.”

In his view, the difference was hard to ignore. At the same time, Fiji itself has changed. Once basic and remote — “sleeping in a grass hut, eating bananas and coconuts” — it’s now built around tourism, with constant movement of boats and people.

“The very thing that attracts people… ends up spoiling it.”

Not a conclusion, just an observation from someone returning after decades away.

Signwriting, skill and doing it by hand

On Bruny Island, Rod was preparing for a job he’s done for decades — painting Lest We Forget across AFL grounds in Hobart.

“I don’t use any AI… it’s all done the old-fashioned way.”

String lines, measurements, steady hands. Letters up to 30 metres long.

It takes about four hours, most of that in preparation.

What stood out most — he’s dyslexic.

“You really do have to think about what you’re doing.”

After 50 years, this will be his last.

“It’s a privilege.”

River mornings

In Echuca, Richard was watching the paddle steamers come to life.

“Just watching the smoke start to come out of the boats.”

The Murray is low, a bit dirty — something you notice when you’ve spent your life on it. It takes years to earn a licence, but the river itself teaches more than anything else.

Heavy loads, long days

In South Australia, Kim was hauling copper concentrate in triple road trains — about 138 tonnes per load, two runs a day.

“Pretty good, actually… still busy.”

Like others, he turned to Anzac Day — a moment that cuts through routine.

Roads, floods and keeping Australia moving

On the NT highways, another driver painted a rougher picture after recent flooding.

“The potholes… you could park a Mini Minor in them.”

Sections of road have been torn up, but crews have kept traffic moving.

“The effort they put in… unbelievable.”

Even so, the country is alive — grass high, ranges green, the landscape pushing back after the water.

Old maps and letting go of a life’s work

Old maps and letting go of a life’s work

When Mehmet Tuglu reached out on the April 19 program, it wasn’t just about clearing space — it was about what to do with a lifetime of work.

He’s sitting on hundreds of paper maps — 600 to 800 by his estimate — detailed topographic sheets gathered and used over decades.

“They show things like hay sheds and ruins… surveyors have actually been to those places.”

That’s what struck him most. The level of detail. These weren’t just pulled from aerial images — they were built from people physically walking the ground, mapping it properly.

For years, they were essential. Precise. Reliable. Something you worked from.

Now, he hasn’t needed them for 20 years.

He’s tried to give them away — councils, organisations, anyone who might use them — but hasn’t had much luck.

“It would be a big waste to dump these.”

That’s the dilemma.

Because the world has moved on quickly. Paper maps gave way to digital versions, then interactive platforms, and now satellite navigation that tells you where to go in real time. You can zoom in on almost any part of the country without ever unfolding a sheet.

The convenience is obvious. But something has shifted with it.

There’s a generation that’s never really learned to read a map — and another that still trusts them more than a screen.

Mehmet’s collection sits right in between.

Still accurate. Still detailed. But no longer needed in the way it once was.

Not obsolete — just outpaced.

Flood memories and bush stories

Jumbuck’s call reached back to the 1970s — floods around Cooper Creek and Innamincka.

“Real white sand… about six foot deep.”

Clearing roads, living in a swag, watching the country reshape itself after water moves through it. The kind of story that sits with people who’ve worked that country long enough.

A quiet act of courage remembered

One message stood out in the lead-up to Anzac Day.

Trooper Kenneth Anderson Bain — injured at Gallipoli — later saw a young child fall overboard at sea and jumped in without hesitation to try to save him.

Neither survived.

A reminder that when the Last Post is played, there are countless names like his — acts of courage that live on quietly.

A march that won’t be missed

And in Colac, one story landed simply.

Brian Cuthbertson, 82, is preparing for his 53rd consecutive Anzac Day march.

“He didn’t want to miss it… so he’s flying home to do it.”

No fuss. Just showing up. Every year.

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Across the morning, nothing felt forced.

Just people moving through their routines — swimming, driving, painting, remembering — and, in their own way, holding onto something that matters.

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.

A Sunday That Builds Itself: From Racetracks to Remote Stations, the Voices That Carry Australia

Some mornings on Macca’s program ease in quietly. Others gather momentum call by call, voice by voice, until suddenly the country is speaking to itself. This was one of those mornings. It began with the rumble of classic motorbikes at a revived country racetrack, stretched across triathletes chasing endurance on the Victorian coast, and reached deep into remote South Australia where a 10-year-old boy stepped up in a moment that would stay with everyone listening.

Along the way came talk of fuel shocks and fragile supply chains, of migration stories that shaped modern Australia, of community-built spaces reclaimed from neglect, and of people still choosing to get on the road, on the water, or in the air despite rising costs. It was a program that moved — like Macca said — like a train gathering speed.

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The Sound of Old Machines at One Raceway

Cliffo called in from One Raceway near Goulburn, where the past was very much alive.

What used to be Wakefield Park has been reborn, thanks to the Shelley family, into a modernised circuit with strict noise controls and reworked terrain. But this weekend, it wasn’t about modern racing — it was about memory.

Classic motorcycles from the 1950s, 60s and 70s were back on track. Not on display, but racing.

“These are the bikes the old blokes wanted when they were younger and can afford now,” Cliffo said.

It wasn’t without challenges. Noise restrictions, wet weather, and the logistics of reviving an event all hovered in the background. A storm had already wiped out part of the weekend’s program. But still, the crowd came. Still, the bikes ran.

And for Cliffo, it was only the beginning. The next day, he was flying out of Canberra to officiate at MotoGP in Austin, Texas — one of a small group of Australian officials invited for their reputation in running world-class events.

It was a reminder of something uniquely Australian: grassroots passion scaling all the way to the global stage.

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Bells, Bikes and a World Moving Too Fast

From racetracks to footpaths, Brendan in Brisbane had a different kind of concern — speed, and the lack of control around it.

Fresh back from China, he described electric bikes flying along footpaths at highway speeds. His solution? A redesigned “tram bell” for bikes — loud, mechanical, unmistakable.

“You can hear it 50 or 100 metres away,” he said.

But beneath the innovation was frustration.

“You cannot legislate stupid.”

It was a line that landed, not just about bikes, but about a broader sense of systems struggling to keep up — whether it was airport processing, enforcement, or the creeping feeling that rules exist but aren’t applied.

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Ironman in Geelong: Endurance for Its Own Sake

In Geelong, Mark — “Dags” from South Australia — was watching thousands gather for an Ironman event.

His son Jack was among them.

A 3.8km swim.
A 180km ride.
A full marathon to finish.

Nearly 1,800 competitors.

Jack wasn’t a professional. He wasn’t sponsored. He was a diesel mechanic who paid his own way and travelled the country competing.

“Just an age grouper, having a crack,” he said.

There was no grand payoff, no prize money worth chasing. Just the pursuit itself.

Macca couldn’t quite get his head around it. But maybe that was the point.

Some things aren’t meant to be rational. They’re meant to be lived.

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A 10-Year-Old Called Lawson

Then came the call that shifted the tone of the morning.

Mark returned to the line, this time not as a spectator, but as an emergency responder. He told the story of a crash on a remote South Australian cattle station — Mcdouall Peak — where a man had come off his motorbike at speed.

The first person on scene wasn’t an adult.

It was his 10-year-old son, Lawson.

Lawson had searched for his father when he didn’t return. Found him. Then navigated responders across rugged country to reach him. He carried equipment. Helped coordinate. Stayed composed.

When Macca brought Lawson on air, his voice was calm, matter-of-fact.

His father had broken a leg, hip and collarbone. He’d been travelling fast. The rain had made it worse.

Lawson didn’t dramatise it.

He just did what needed to be done.

Now back in Adelaide while his dad recovers, he spoke about station life, School of the Air, and his plans to one day become a helicopter pilot.

“I love it out there,” he said.

No fuss. No performance. Just quiet capability.

It was the kind of call that doesn’t need embellishment.

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Fuel, Freight and a Warning from the Road

The conversation turned sharply when Ron Finnamore, one of Australia’s most experienced transport operators, joined the program.

The issue was diesel. And the numbers were staggering.

Fuel costs had surged dramatically in just weeks. For Finnamore’s business, that meant an additional $1 million per week in costs.

And there was no easy fix.

“It’s got to be passed on,” he said. “And that’s going to hurt everybody.”

Farmers, freight operators, small businesses — all exposed.

More concerning was what might come next: supply shortages.

With global disruptions affecting crude supply and refining, Finnamore warned Australia could face real constraints within weeks.

“We’re a country that’s left itself exposed.”

It was a sobering moment. Not theoretical. Not abstract. Immediate.

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Policy, Politics and the Bigger Picture

Later, Dan Tehan joined from regional Victoria, echoing similar concerns.

His focus wasn’t just price, but preparedness.

Australia once had fuel depots across regional areas — reserves that could buffer shocks. Many are now gone.

“We’ve got to get back to storing fuel,” he said.

It wasn’t framed as politics, but practicality. A country reassessing how self-reliant it really is in a shifting global landscape.

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A Story of Arrival — and Gratitude

Amid the tension, Macca read a letter from his old schoolmate George Fleming.

It told the story of a family that arrived in Australia in 1948 after being rejected by multiple countries while fleeing post-war Europe.

Originally the Fleischmanns, they settled in Bexley. Changed their name. Built a life.

There were moments of hardship, but also moments that felt distinctly Australian.

A neighbour asking them to “bring a plate” — misunderstood at first, but remembered forever.

They built a small business. Raised a family. Found safety.

“Australia accepted us when no one else would,” George wrote.

It was simple. Direct. And powerful.

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Small Towns, Big Efforts

In Coleraine, a community had reclaimed an arboretum once left to decline. Volunteers restored walking tracks, replanted native species, and brought the space back to life.

In Coomera, Narelle and her husband were preparing a gathering of 60 to 100 classic speedboats — a labour of love nearly a decade in the making.

In Margaret River, Lisa was heading off to cook a free sausage sizzle for locals and tourists before flying back to her rail job in Port Hedland.

Across the country, people were still building things. Still showing up.

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One Conversation at a Time

By the end of the program, the threads were clear.

A racetrack brought back from the brink.
A young man chasing endurance for no reason other than love of it.
A 10-year-old stepping up when it mattered.
A freight operator warning of what’s coming.
A migrant family remembering what was given to them.
Communities quietly doing the work themselves.

Nothing tied them together except the fact they were happening at the same time, in the same country, carried through the same line.

That’s what the program does. It doesn’t force a narrative.

It lets Australia speak.

One conversation at a time.

---

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.

From Goldfields to Phone Boxes: Australia in One Morning

A young man heads underground in Bendigo and finds structure. Another sleeps in his car in Ballina and finds something close to calm.

Across this week’s calls, Australia sounded like a country adjusting — to rising costs, tighter housing, and work that no longer follows a single path.

But it didn’t come through as one story. It came through in voices. Some stayed longer, unpacking decisions and consequences. Others passed through quickly, leaving behind a detail that lingered.

Together, they formed something more complete.

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Bendigo, VIC — Hunter Finds Structure Underground

Hunter, 25, called from Bendigo, now working at the Fosterville gold mine, and the conversation stayed with him.

He had been in sales in Melbourne — good money, but a different kind of pressure. The move underground wasn’t just about chasing higher pay, although with gold pushing towards $8,000 an ounce, the opportunity is clear.

What came through more strongly was what the job had given him.

Structure.

Routine. Long shifts. A system where effort translates directly into outcome.

“You think differently about money,” he said, describing how the work had reshaped his habits — spending less, planning more, being deliberate.

Then the conversation widened.

Why aren’t pathways like this more visible to young people? Why is university still treated as the default?

It wasn’t frustration. Just a clear observation.

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Ballina, NSW — Josh and a Different Kind of Living

Josh’s call from Ballina carried equal weight.

He’s living out of his car on a friend’s property after being priced out of the rental market.

He spoke about the mechanics of it — where he parks, how he sleeps — but the call didn’t stay there.

He described the bush around him. The quiet. The absence of constant movement.

“There’s a calm to it,” he said.

Not as a solution. Just as something that exists alongside the difficulty.

It doesn’t fix the situation.

But it changes how it feels.

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National — The Gap Behind the Stories

The All Over News segment gave those calls context.

Costs have risen across the board, but housing has moved faster — far enough ahead to reshape what affordability means.

That gap sits behind decisions like Josh’s.

And it’s starting to influence everything else.

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Tasmania — John Harris Builds for What People Actually Need

John Harris, a builder in Tasmania, is seeing that shift firsthand.

After decades building traditional homes, he’s moved into modular housing — smaller builds, faster timelines, lower costs.

But the key detail was who he’s building for.

“A lot of them are single women,” he said.

Older clients. Downsizing. Or simply choosing something that matches how they live now.

Not space for the sake of it. Not scale.

Just something that fits.

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Shenzhen — Brendan and a System That Connects

Brendan called from Shenzhen, where he sources e-bike components.

Everything runs through the phone.

“You don’t really use cash,” he said.

Payments. Transport. Ordering. Movement.

All integrated.

A city that has grown rapidly now operating with a level of efficiency that feels well ahead.

It wasn’t framed as better.

Just different.

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Wagga Wagga, NSW — Starting Young, Learning Fast

In Wagga, a 16-year-old bass player called in, already performing in a band while studying at the conservatorium.

She’s playing gigs. Getting paid. Learning in real time.

There was no overthinking in it.

Just doing it.

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Montville, QLD — Tony Finds His Way Back to the Piano

Tony in Montville called about something smaller, but no less meaningful.

He’s returned to the piano.

Working back through pieces he once knew. Slower now, more deliberate.

He described sitting down and playing a few notes — not perfectly, but enough to reconnect.

It wasn’t about improving.

Just returning.

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Byron Bay, NSW — Narelle and the Sessions That Still Happen

Narelle in Byron Bay described the kind of music scene that doesn’t advertise itself.

People bring instruments. Someone starts. Others join in.

No set structure. No expectation.

“People just drift in,” she said.

It wasn’t about performing.

Just playing.

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New Zealand — Jason and the Familiar Rhythm of Race Day

Jason called from New Zealand on his way to a harness racing meet.

A grass track. A local crowd. People who know each other.

He didn’t describe it as an event.

Just something that happens.

Regularly. Reliably.

A rhythm that hasn’t changed.

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ACT — A Lifetime, Still in Motion

From the ACT came a caller still competing in sheepdog trials in his 90s.

He spoke about travelling, working dogs, turning up to events.

No emphasis on age.

Just continuation.

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Camino — Chris and the Shift from Idea to Action

Chris on the Gold Coast is preparing to walk the Camino with his son.

It’s been talked about for years.

Now he’s training — building distance, getting ready.

That shift from idea to action had already begun.

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Mildura, VIC — When Plans Tighten

In Mildura, a Lifeline fundraiser is working to keep a charity ride on track while fuel supply issues complicate planning.

Routes need adjusting. Coordination becomes tighter.

It’s the kind of pressure that doesn’t get seen.

But shapes whether things happen.

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Queensland — Bede in the Middle of It

Bede called in from a surf lifesaving competition, mid-event.

There wasn’t time to reflect.

He was between races, focused on what was next.

It was brief.

But it showed how these days actually run.

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Far West NSW — Jimmy and the Gaps Between Signal

Jimmy called from a phone box in far west New South Wales.

Out there, mobile coverage drops out completely.

“When it goes, it goes,” he said.

And when it does, this is what’s left.

Not outdated.

Essential.

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One Conversation at a Time

Across the morning, the stories moved between pressure and adjustment.

Work changing. Housing tightening. Costs rising.

But just as clearly, people are finding ways through it — changing direction, simplifying, or returning to something familiar.

From underground shifts to roadside phone calls, it’s a country still moving.

One conversation at a time.

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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.