Brisbane is the capital city of Queensland, Australia. It’s the third largest city in Australia. You don’t need this Wikipedia history lesson to understand, know, appreciate, or in my case, love Brisbane.
Thomas Brisbane was in NSW when he decided to look north for new digs. My life was much the same: my parents moved our family to Brisbane from Sydney in 1988. It was the year of Expo ’88 and the allure of Stefan’s sky needle, which still resides in South Brisbane, was probably too great to ignore.
My arrival in Brisbane marked the first of several terrific early childhood memories: the warmth of a good shower; an unyielding (and as yet unresolved) infatuation with Freddo Frogs and an obsession with the Fat Controller in Thomas the Tank Engine.
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If New South Wales fails to win tonight’s pivotal State of Origin match, let me tell you what the collective state mood will be tomorrow. It’ll be exactly the same. No one will be depressed, no one will feel less significant and by about 10 am, no one will even remember the result.
We New South Wales folk aren’t insecure or small-minded enough to pin our self-worth on the fortunes of a mere football team. We are the least chest-beating, biceps-flexing, horn-honking state in Australia for the very good reason that we know our state is clearly superior to all others.
Well, it is.
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I awake to the sound of the fan. Tick, tick, tick… It’s 6:13 am and my alarm is due to go off in two minutes. I am wide awake thanks to the beam of sun that is shining through the gap in those dodgy broken blinds I’ve been meaning to fix for about three years.
I kick off the sheet. My bare feet land on the cool tiles. I draw the blinds and stare at the blue cloudless sky that awaits me. There is a gentle breeze in the palm trees and while lost in the chatter of the fronds, my state of delirium is destroyed by old mate next door, who I see is out trimming the hedges in his DTs again.
As I toddle off to work via my 20 minute drive into the city (where I park in the council-supplied all day free parking), I’m really irked I got that one red light. I pass several surveyors who are beginning on the decades-awaited southern highway upgrade. They are shirtless but keep their high-vis vests undone. I glance back at the thermometer in my car. It’s 22 degrees. Ah, the depths of winter in FNQ. It’s quite a challenge.
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