There’s a stereotype that people from Melbourne tend to popularise that Melbourne and Sydney are somehow different: that Melbourne is cultural, arty etc and Sydney is a little superficial. Here in Sydney, we don’t give a second thought to any perceived difference… I mean, why would you bother?
While looking at the Sydney Morning Herald today I observed some interesting similarities and differences, in terms of what readers in both cities actually find interesting in their newspapers.
The most viewed story in Sydney concerned Australia’s controversial Miss Universe entrant, Erin McNaught, who has been handpicked to appear on one of America’s top TV talkshows with billionaire Donald Trump, while in Melbourne, it was a story about Oxana Malaya who learnt as a young child when she was brought up by a pack of dogs on a rundown farm near the village of Novaya Blagoveschenka in Ukraine.
The big issues for readers of “The Age” included the weather (surprise!) as Victorians awoke to the chilliest morning for almost 12 months, today, with temperatures falling well below zero in cold spots around the state. They were also interested in the story of a man who cut off his own penis in a drunken bet, and the discovery through Google Earth of a small-scale model of a piece of territory in China complete with snow-topped mountains, streams and valleys and the
Readers of the “Sydney Morning Herald” were also interested in the Google Earth story. There was also a big story about a stabbing, as an 18-year-old man was in hospital with a 10 centimetre cut to his throat after it was slashed with a knife in Sydney’s east this morning. Unlike our parochial cousins down south, Sydney-siders also had an interest in the Middle East crisis.
Both cities were very interested in the news that Jessica Rowe is pregnant and that speaks volumes too!
SMH and The Age
Goodness knows what I’ll see on the front page of “The West Australian” tomorrow.
I began the year with international travel on my mind, and I’m ending it the same way. It’s funny how certain themes bookend our lives. For me, travel has always been one of those themes — a tug in the chest, a restlessness in the bones, a desire to see what lies beyond the familiar. Even after everything that has happened to my body in recent years, that instinct hasn’t left me. If anything, it has sharpened.
And that instinct is already shaping my plans for 2026. I’ve mapped out a trip that feelz both exciting and symbolic — a reminder that my world hasn’t shrunk, even if my pace has changed. First on the list is Bangkok, a city I’ve always loved for its energy, its food, and its ability to overwhelm the senses in the best possible way. From there, I’m travelling back to Sweden for the first time sincev 2017, to visit Stockholm and Lulea, located above the Arctic Circle, and hopefully experience the Northern Lights. And there are also a few days in London, to see some theatre shows. It’s only about 6 weeks until I fly out.
2025 started with me scrolling through travel deals, half‑seriously, half‑wistfully. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for another big trip, after my health problems in the last couple of years.
Only weeks before flying out to China, I’d been lying in a hospital bed at RPA, staring at the ceiling while an orthopaedic surgeon explained my options. The x‑rays had confirmed broken ribs and a fractured hip. The surgeon — calm, clear, and reassuring — recommended a full hip replacement. Given my age, activity level, and the nature of the fracture, it made sense. Better to do it properly now than face another surgery later.
Great Wall of China
My prosthetic leg drew some attention in China — at one point, an older woman stopped dead in her tracks, pointing at it in shock. I smiled and reassured her it worked well. Across the entire week, I didn’t see another visibly identifiable amputee. It reminded me of a rural trip 15 years ago when I’d seen a man without legs begging on a footpath — not because amputees don’t exist in China, but because they’re far less visible.
The tour itself was demanding. Cobblestones, heat, long distances — all of it pushed me hard. On the day we visited Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City, we clocked 18,000 steps. For an amputee, that’s effectively double the effort. Two older women hired wheelchairs and assistants for the day. As I pushed through, I wondered if my stubborn independence had been misplaced.
Only one day truly defeated me: rain, slippery surfaces, and boats with almost no handrails. But the 41‑person group was wonderfully supportive. Offers of help came not from pity but kindness. I usually declined — “I need to do it myself” — but occasionally accepted with a grateful smile.
Travel, as it often does, reminds you of your own resilience. It also reminded me of the quiet ways people show care. And it reminded me that independence doesn’t mean refusing help — it means choosing when to accept it.
This year also deepened my understanding of disability in ways I hadn’t anticipated. After decades in broadcasting, I thought I understood disability. I considered myself a good ally. But becoming a lower‑limb amputee revealed how much I’d missed. My authority at work shifted. My capability was questioned before I even reached the microphone. I began to see the everyday barriers and assumptions people with disability face — not in theory, but in practice.
That shift became especially clear on IDPwD — International Day of People with Disability, a United Nations‑recognised day held every year on 3 December to promote awareness, understanding, and inclusion. Sitting alongside colleagues on an in-house panel at work, along with a wide range of disabilities, I was reminded that disability isn’t a monolith. Over 5.5 million Australians live with disability, most of it invisible. Treating it as a niche issue means ignoring a fifth of our audience.
You don’t need lived experience to report on disability well — but it helps. It sharpens your focus from pity to rights, from “what happened to you?” to “why isn’t this accessible?” That shift in perspective is part of what inspired The Limb Shift, the podcast I’ll be launching in 2026. It will explore the real, complex stories behind limb loss — identity, resilience, fear, humour, and everything in between. No two stories are the same, but the emotional terrain is deeply shared.
The hardest part of the year was losing some family members. A nephew and his son were killed in a tragic accident which made the front page of the papers in Brisbane, and my last remaining sister, Patsy died.
Despite the distance between Sydney and Lismore, we spoke every day. I knew her routine by heart — when the cleaner arrived, when the nurse came, what she watched on television, the best times to call. Our lifelong closeness had deepened into daily check‑ins after I became unwell. She worried constantly about me living alone.
Then one Sunday, she didn’t answer. Her husband rang back to say she was unwell. She was taken to hospital and died the next morning. The silence since has been profound.
The last time I saw her was in September, after a family funeral for my nephew and his young son, both killed by a drink‑driver. Weeks later, a close friend lost her son in another road accident. Grief seemed to circle my life this year, touching everything.
RIP Patsy O’Brien
While preparing her eulogy, I found her only Facebook post: “Life is short, don’t be sad for too long.”
I was up before dawn, determined to have a lovely walk to Nobby’s Beach at Newcastle, and to take some photographs along the way. The weather and beach didn’t disappoint, and it was pretty good to see a large cruise ship in the harbour, Rhapsody Of The Seas, attract attention.
Can I take your photograph?”, the young woman said to me as I walked on to the red carpet at the Opening Night of “My Fair Lady” at Sydney’s Theatre Royal. Although I’ve walked on a lot of red carpet over the years, I’ve never had my photograph taken before.
I mean, there was an occasion at Trop Fest where I appeared briefly on the satellite feed to other states. And there was the night at the Opera House when Damo and I had our photographs taken by the “Wentworth Courier”. Sadly, we knew we wouldn’t make it to the social pages when Rachel Ward and Bryan Brown entered the room minutes after us.
But most of my red carpet moments are best summed up by my Andrew Olle Lecture experience of several years ago. Walking down the red carpet at Parliament House, cameras flashed rapidly snapping the veritable “Who’s Who” of Australian media. And then when it was our turn, the assembled cameramen literally turned away and changed their film.
Tonight was different though. Well, maybe not that different, as it was a friend who snapped the photograph :), so strictly speaking I’m still a “red carpet loser”!
I was very excited, though, when I was offered the tickets late this afternoon. “What are you doing tonight”, I asked Colin on the phone. “I’m going to this Clover Moore art launch at Taylor Square”, he replied. And so was I until about five minutes earlier. But when the offer came for opening night tickets (including the after party) for the Opera Australia production, there was little doubt in either of our minds about which was the better way to spend Thursday night.
“I’ve never seen such a crowded opening night at the Theatre Royal” Colin commented at one point. Nor had I. And it was a good a-list event. Kerry Ann was there in a slinky little number. Bob and Blanche were there, with Bob wearing a Nehru style white suit. Everyone seemed to agree he didn’t look all that well, though probably quite good for a man who must now be in his eighties. And Barry Humphries was there too.
Actually, I spoke briefly with Barry. Well, not so much spoke. I was chatting to a colleague and was telling her how much I’d enjoyed the show. Looking in my general direction as he walked past, he said “Yes I agree totally”. That’s a conversation, surely?
And it was a really good production, in my view. I’ve heard some negative stuff, but I really liked the show. I mean, it’s a really great show, with some of the most memorable songs in musical theatre history. In my mind, and occasionally out loud, I sang along with every song. And it’s such a great story. And as a production, I thought it was well-sung, well-directed, and had great sets and lighting. What more could you hope for on a Thursday night?
At the after party, I also ran into fellow blogger, Monty. This was the second time I’ve seen him out and about in Sydney in a week. He really does get around, doesn’t he? :)
Otherwise, it was quite a good day at work, and I managed to achieve quite a bit.
And now it’s late and it’s time for bed.
Red carpet at the opening night of the show in Sydney, October 2008.
“OMG, it’s Kerry”, I shouted out inside my heard. Instantly, I realised I shouldn’t be surprised since I knew Kerry was a regular at the Lismore Farmer’s Markets. I’ve known Kerry’s partner, Paul for almost forty years (since the start of high school), and Kerry for about a decade. Or is it longer? Because I’ve lived away for so long, and probably because I’m getting older, memories are beginning to fade.
I obviously lots of very familiar memories of childhood, having grown up in Lismore until I was eighteen. I then had a further five years where I was regularly commuting (most fortnights, if not most weekends) between Brisbane and Lismore. And then as I moved away to Bourke, Renmark, Wagga and Sydney, the visits became less regular. And my contacts with Lismore became more directly focussed on close family and friends. There was never enough time for a week-long visit to see too many people, including more distant family. There has also never really been too much of an opportunity to meet new people. So when I go for a wander around the block, there’s hardly anyone I know. Seeing a familiar face is a rarity.
But that said there’s also a real familiarity about the place. Because my family has been in the area for over 100 years, and because I come from larger families, there’s an awful lot of people I see in the street who look familiar, and it’s because we’re probably related. I had a beer in a local pub this afternoon, for example, and there was a bloke sitting nearby who I spotted. “You’ve got to be an O’Brien”, I thought to myself. Though,in response, I’m sure he was probably thinking “what are you looking at mate”?
From time to time, I’ve toyed with the idea of moving back to Lismore. Unless I had a super interesting job which allowed me to meet lots of new people, or made a concerted effort to become super social, it might be difficult to create a new adult friendship circle back here. There again, you never know. But no, no plans to move back just yet.
Earlier this week, I did an interview with Derek Eady. Originally from New Zealand and now based in Central Queensland, Derek shared his experiences for an upcoming episode of The Limb Shift, a podcast about limb loss and limb difference. He was so generous with his time and insights. I hope you find his story as useful and inspiring to read now as it will be to listen to later in the year. Click on the links above to subscribe (free!!) to the podcast so you receive all of the episodes when they are released.
Derek Eady’s life shifted dramatically after a severe domestic accident in 2013 during a home renovation project in New Zealand.
Before the incident, he had spent over fifteen years working as a frontline paramedic, accustomed to being the one who arrived to help others in their darkest moments.
While painting the roof of his house on a stunning December day, he stepped on wet paint that “is a bit like soap,” causing him to slide straight down the roof and over the edge. He plummeted five and a half metres, landing feet first before hitting his backside, which shattered his right leg and fractured his pelvis and back in four separate places.
The Immediate Aftermath and Recovery
The immediate fear centered on a potential spinal injury. Derek recalled the terrifying realization:
“I couldn’t feel my legs, I had no sensation below my waist.”
Transitioning from a frontline paramedic to a completely dependent patient felt “surreal,” leaving him with an “absolute sense of complete helplessness”.
Hospitalization brought dark days, depression, and profound questions about his future as a father, husband, and paramedic.
When a colleague visited after his amputation and suggested alternative office or training roles, Derek felt deeply deflated because they lacked any “sense that there was a possibility that I could return to active duty on the road as a paramedic”.
A major turning point occurred when his surgeon introduced him to another amputee who walked smoothly without a walking stick. Inspired by that meeting and by learning about other adaptive athletes like double amputee Mark Inglis climbing Everest, Derek experienced a complete shift in mindset.
Seven months after the accident, following the amputation of his problematic leg, he made a firm choice:
“No, I’m going to do this, I’m going to get back to working as a paramedic… and come hell or high water, I was going to do everything I needed to do to make that happen.”
Rebuilding Life and Career
With the help of dedicated rehabilitation programs, specialists, and his prosthetic, Derek quickly learned to walk again.
St John, his employer, supported his return, provided he passed an occupational driving assessment to prove he could safely operate an unmodified vehicle.
After retraining his brain’s spatial awareness for braking and acceleration, he passed the test and returned to frontline duties.
In doing so, Derek made history by becoming the first person with limb loss in New Zealand to return to work as a frontline paramedic.
This lived experience had a deeply transformative impact on his perspective, fundamentally changing his attitudes toward life and patient care. Rather than feeling jaded, it instilled a profound sense of empathy:
“For them this moment is, for them it’s been scary enough that they’ve called an ambulance. So they deserve every ounce of my compassion.”
It also altered his outlook as a husband and father, making him realize how quickly life can change and teaching him to cherish every moment with his family.
Life Since Paramedicine in Australia
After working for another six years on the road in New Zealand, Derek and his wife—following her recovery from breast cancer—decided to completely change their pace of life. They bought a yacht, learned to sail with their children, and spent months cruising around New Zealand and Fiji before eventually crossing over to Australia.
Pic supplied
Now based in central Queensland, Australia, Derek closed the chapter on his long paramedicine career and transitioned into heavy transport. Describing his new line of work, he noted:
“At the moment I’m working in the dangerous goods transport field, running bulk dangerous goods. It’s… ammonium nitrate, cyanide, those sorts of things that are used in mines up around Queensland. So it’s, yeah, it’s a pretty intense, intense job.”
Working as a truck driver, Derek secured an unconditional licence and solved minor hurdles—such as finding a zip-up gumboot to fit his prosthetic for hazardous chemical suits.
Pic supplied
Alongside his career driving commercial heavy vehicles, he also serves as a volunteer skipper for Marine Rescue in Gladstone. Looking forward, he and his family hope to embark on a complete circumnavigation of Australia by sailboat once their youngest son finishes school.
