Clover Hill Diaries - Join Me and Be the Change - #Strongwomen. "I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing. I write about generosity because I battle selfishness. I write about joy because I know sorrow. I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption. I write about gratitude because I am thankful

The Paddock That Grew Nothing

On why “save our farmland” is the wrong fight for the right reason.

Wollongong Railway Station, 1900.

Take a good look at that old photo of the railway station. Timber and tin, a scatter of weatherboard cottages, and open paddock rolling away in every direction. Now go and stand where the photographer stood. There isn’t a vacant block for miles. Every one of those paddocks filled in, one approval at a time, and nobody felt the loss on the day it happened. That’s how it always goes. The green doesn’t vanish in a single bad decision. It goes in slices, each one too small to argue about, until one day you look up and the hills have a rash.

The same station, 1920. Twenty years on

And it didn’t stop in 1920. Local residents Lesley East and Annette Young and their now husbands still remember driving into Wollongong in the early 1960s to see Psycho at the Regent Theatre on Keira Street, then a grand Art Deco picture palace only a few years old. They parked in a paddock right near the cinema. A paddock, in the middle of town. Today Wollongong is a city of more than 200,000 people, the Regent has been a church since 2005, Crown Street is a pedestrian mall, and the idea of an open field to leave your car in near the main street sounds like a tall tale. But that’s the whole point. Every one of those paddocks was “just one block” once.

Nobody stood in it the day it was lost.

So I have a lot of sympathy for the worry behind Graham Pike’s comment on one of my Catch-Up posts. He was referring to a development application on Minnamurra Lane, Jamberoo, a house and a farm shed on a vacant block, the one Cr Lawton sensibly sent off for a second look and independent legal advice at the May Council meeting. Here’s part of what he said:

“We might not be using the vacant lands or the land in question for food production right now. but most of these lands have been used for farming within the past century or less and, most importantly, we’ll need them for food production again as the human population, even in our area, increases uncontrollably and unsustainably and the resulting suburbanisation sprawls across and fragments this same agricultural/food producing land. The zoning of the land as RU1 or RU2 is a human construct and immaterial. It is still land that we have used and will in future need to use, if any is left uncovered by concrete and asphalt, for food production.” Graham Pike, Jamberoo

I’ve turned that over for days, because there’s a lot in it I agree with. The slow creep of houses and sheds across those hills is real. I’ve watched it happen. And his bigger worry, that we keep paving over the very ground we’ll need to feed ourselves one day, is a serious one.

In a later note, Graham went further and put his finger on what he sees as the root of it all: too many people. Human overpopulation, driving an economy that chews through the natural world. It’s a heartfelt view and plenty of thoughtful people share it.

That’s too big for me to sort out. What I’d say is simpler: whatever any of us thinks about how many people there ought to be, they’re already here. They were born, they need a roof, and saying “there are too many of them” doesn’t put one over a single head. So my mind goes to the thing we can actually do something about, which isn’t the number of people, but where they’re going to live.

The thing is, all that green didn’t go in one big decision anyone could point to. It went in slices, a block here, a shed there, each one too small to worry over on the day. Nobody ever stood up and voted to lose it. It just happened while we weren’t looking.

So maybe the better thing isn’t to fight every single house, but to decide on purpose where the houses should go, instead of letting them turn up one at a time until the hills are full again and we’re left wondering how.

And there’s a part of these “save our farmland” conversations that almost never gets said out loud. Farming is a business. For most farmers, the land isn’t only where they work. It’s the biggest thing they own, the nest egg meant to see them through old age after a lifetime of hard years and thin margins.

So when we say a paddock must stay green forever, I think we should stop and hear what we’re really asking. We’re asking that farmer, and only that farmer, to lock away the worth of their own land so the rest of us can enjoy the view on the drive past. A person in town can sell their house for whatever it’ll fetch. The farmer gets told their paddock is a community treasure and they ought to keep it green for a fraction of what it’s worth. I’m not sure that’s protecting farming. It feels more like asking one family to foot the bill for everyone else’s nice outlook.

I’ve stood on that side of the fence. I dairy farmed for decades, and I know what it is to look at a paddock and see both a lifetime’s work and the only retirement you’ve got. So I find myself asking the question that doesn’t get asked much: is that fair?

And it’s a slippery word, fair. Everyone in this thinks they’re on its side. The people in town feel it’s only fair the hills stay green, they get the view and lose nothing. The farmer feels it’s only fair they get to realise the worth of the land they’ve worked their whole life, the same as anyone else can with what they own. Both are sincere. Both are “fair.” They just can’t both have their way.

And it tends to be the farmer’s fairness that gets left out, because the farmer’s usually not in the room when the rest of us decide their paddock is too precious to touch.

So where does that leave me? Not where you might think. I’m not saying build everywhere. And I’m not saying the green hills don’t count, they’re a good part of why people love this place, and why the visitors come. The slow spread of sheds and houses across those ridgelines is real, and worth watching very closely.

But if we want our farmers to keep the hills green for the rest of us, the least we can do is be honest that we’re asking them to give something up, and decent enough to talk about who carries that cost rather than pretending it’s free.

Lock the gate on a farmer’s land and we haven’t saved farming. We’ve decided their retirement is a fair price for our view.

Good on Cr Lawton for asking for a proper look before anyone signs anything. That’s the kind of careful, eyes-open thinking this deserves, on this block and the next one. The conversation I’d like us to have isn’t “green or houses.” It’s “if we want the green, who pays for it, and is that fair on them?”

I don’t have a tidy answer. I’m not sure there is one. But I think we owe the farmers at least the courtesy of asking.

A note on the photos: I came across these two images on Facebook, where they were dated 1900 and 1920 and identified as Wollongong Railway Station. I haven’t been able to independently verify the dates or the photographer, so if anyone can confirm the details or knows the original source, I’d love to hear from you, please get in touch.

Daily News Round Up – 24 May 2026

Very local, state, national and the wider world, in everyday language, for people who haven’t got all day.

From a band called Fukers raising the roof for our firies, to an eighty-something bloke who built an ocean-going boat in his backyard, to a war that’s still keeping petrol dear, here’s the local-to-global wrap for 24 May 2026.

Betty from Blacktown and her brother Kevin from Kiama, making sense of the world’s chaos the only sensible way: over toast, a strong cuppa, and a good long natter on the phone. That’s what this Catch Up is for.

Very Local: a joyous night in the village, and a boat sixteen years in the making

Two cracking local stories this time, and both of them good news for a change.

The Fukers had Jamberoo dancing. The fundraiser in the village was a roaring success, raising money for the Jamberoo Rural Fire Brigade and the Red Cross. By all accounts it was a beauty. One person who was there summed it up far better than I could:

“Fukers didn’t disappoint, in fact they were wonderful. Congratulations organisers and Fukers for a joyous, uplifting evening that included audience participation via singing, dancing and the good news from vocalist Paul Taylor that the band will return next year to again help raise funds for the Rural Fire Brigade and Red Cross. Thank you Fukers for an absolutely fabulous evening in the village.”

Best of all, Paul Taylor has promised the band will be back next year to do it all over again. Good on the organisers, good on the band, and good on everyone who put their hand in their pocket for our firies.

The building is the thing. On the side of Saddleback Mountain, a Jamberoo fella named Michael set himself a job that would make most of us put the kettle on and have a lie down instead. In his own backyard, by hand, he built an ocean-going catamaran. An eighteen-and-a-half-metre boat that he designed himself. It took him sixteen years, with his wonderful wife Susie beside him the whole way.

Everyone who knew that narrow little road kept asking the same question: how on earth are you going to get it down off the mountain? There was even talk the ABC might film the whole thing and lift the boat out by helicopter. In the end no chopper was needed. The boat was cut into pieces and crawled down the road bit by bit over the best part of a week. And now she’s finally floating on the water, named Archimedes. A lovely reminder that it’s never too late to chase a big dream, and that sometimes the building of the thing matters just as much as where it ends up. You can read Lynne’s full story here.

Across the Country (Federal)

A surprise change out of the United States is worth a mention, because it touches plenty of Australian families with loved ones over there. The Trump government has announced that foreigners already living in the US who want a green card will now have to leave the country and apply from their home country instead. It’s a big shift from how things have worked for years, and it’s caught a lot of people on the hop.

Around the World (International)

Trouble at home for first responders abroad. A sad reminder this week of how dangerous the job can be. In New York, one person died and 36 others were hurt in a blast at a shipyard, and most of the injured were firefighters and other first responders rushing in to help. And over in Southern California, around 40,000 people were told to leave their homes and schools were shut after a storage tank kept leaking a hazardous chemical. A timely reminder of what emergency crews everywhere put on the line, which makes a night like our Fukers fundraiser for the Rural Fire Brigade feel all the more worthwhile.

The bottom line

It all joins up, Betty. A war on the far side of the world squeezes household budgets, the same squeeze that’s shaking up politics everywhere. But closer to home, the news is brighter. A village packed a hall to look after its firies, and a man on a mountain proved you’re never too old to do something improbable and wonderful. Not a bad lot to talk over with Kevin and a cuppa.

Sources: Clover Hill Diaries, NPR, Euronews, CNBC, Sydney Morning Herald, and others.

A note on Betty and Kevin: Betty grew up in Kiama before life took her to Blacktown. Her brother Kevin still lives in their old home town. Keeping up with what’s happening down the coast is partly nostalgia for the place she came from, but mostly it’s how she and Kevin fill those long phone calls she looks forward to all week. That’s what this Catch Up is really for. Not just the news, but the conversations it keeps alive.

The Building Is the Thing

Sixteen years, one very narrow road, and several quietly skeptical dinner parties later: Michael aboard Archimedes.

There’s a question that creeps up on people somewhere in their sixties and seventies. It arrives quietly and starts sitting in the room. What do you want this stretch of life to be for? Some people decide the answer is rest. Some chase the places they never got to. Some pour themselves into grandchildren, or a garden, or finally restoring the car that’s been under a tarp for twenty years. And a stubborn, wonderful few decide that what they want is to build something enormous and improbable with their own two hands, just to prove it can be done.

Michael is one of those few.

On the side of Saddleback Mountain, at Jamberoo, he set out to build an ocean-going catamaran. A self-designed, eighteen-and-a-half-metre boat, built in his own backyard. He’d talk about it with this great, infectious enthusiasm: the big idea, the plan, the vision of it finished and on the water. And beside him, as she always is, his gorgeous wife Susie would sit and smile. What a woman she is.

He’d bring it up at dinner parties, the way other people mention a renovation or a recent trip, and around the table you’d see the same look settle on every face. We were all thinking something. We were each, I suspect, thinking something completely different. Somewhere in that circle was jealousy, and amazement, and flat incredulity, quietly calculating the boat’s chances against a road that accommodates cows and precisely one car at a time. We’d nod warmly and pass the wine. Then we’d go home to our perfectly normal backyards, containing no catamaran whatsoever.

How on earth are you ever going to get it out of here?

When he started, I doubt Michael imagined it would take sixteen years. The big idea rarely comes with the small print attached. Somewhere along the way there was even talk that the ABC might make a documentary of it, that the grand finale would see the boat lifted out by helicopter, surely the only sensible way to get a thing that size off a mountain. Anyone who knew the narrow road he lived on was asking the same question we all were: how on earth are you ever going to get it out of here?

Photo credit

The helicopter stayed on the ground and the documentary went unmade. What happened instead was better: the boat was cut into pieces and crawled down a narrow road, metre by metre, over the better part of a week. The polished launch footage you can find online skips all of that and shows the dream going into the water, clean and triumphant, with the difficult and stubborn and real parts left on the cutting-room floor. Watching it, knowing what it actually took, I find myself quietly amused. That’s a long way from how it looked coming down the hill.

The building is the thing. Some people garden. Some people restore cars. Michael and Susie built an ocean-going boat by hand, for sixteen years.

Where they take it, and whether they take it anywhere at all, almost feels secondary to having proved it could be done.

The launch video carries a line as its title: to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. It’s the closing line of Tennyson’s Ulysses, a poem about old age and the refusal to stop. Whoever chose it understood exactly what this was: a way of answering that quiet question that arrives in your sixties and never quite leaves.

What do you want to do with the years you’ve got left?

Michael and Susie answered it on the side of a mountain, one piece of fibreglass at a time. And the boat is finally on the water.

Want to hear more from Michael and learn what does it take to pull off an incredible Project like ” Archimedes” ?

A Little Shout-Out to Kiama Library

Something caught my eye on Facebook the other day and it put a smile on my dial.

Whoever runs the socials at our local Kiama Library is very clever, and they deserve a shout-out.

The first one was a brilliant bit of bookface, the art of holding a book cover up so it lines up with a real person behind it, and the cover seems to finish the picture. It turns out this has a name and a bit of history. It grew out of an older idea called “sleeveface” from 2007, where people posed with vinyl record covers. The book version really took off when the New York Public Library started sharing theirs in 2015, and France’s famous Librairie Mollat bookshop turned it into a global craze a couple of years later. These days libraries everywhere join in, usually tagged #BookFaceFriday.

But Kiama hasn’t just copied the trend. They’ve put their own cheeky stamp on it. Here are a few that made me grin:

They’ve also got a running gag about AI coming for library jobs, which had me laughing too

What I love is that it’s not just clever photography. It’s a warm, funny way to show off the books on their shelves and remind us what a gem we have on our doorstep. So this is just a small thank you to the team at Kiama Library. You’ve brightened up my feed and reminded me to pop in and borrow something. How clever are they?

Why GDP Gets So Much Attention

Same money, two doors. Most of it went to the houses.

Last time we cracked open GDP and found the weird bit: your house can double in value without the country making one extra thing. We worked out why. You buy a house that’s already there, you’re richer, but nothing new got built. That’s just savings in a nicer jacket. Money goes into a business instead and it buys gear, takes people on, makes stuff. That’s productivity, and that’s the thing that lifts everyone, not just the bloke who spent the money.

So your house doesn’t count. Fine. But here’s the bit you’d be right to ask about: so what? Why does that matter for the whole country, not just for you?

Because the country’s only got so much money to put to work. And where it goes decides what kind of country you end up living in.

Picture all the nation’s savings as one big pool. Every year money flows in, and it has to go somewhere. It can go into businesses that make things and hire people. Or roads and trains. Or it can go into buying houses that are already standing and bidding the price up. Same pool, different doors. And for years now we’ve shoved a massive chunk of it through the housing door.

Money through the productive door, the country can make more next year than it did this year. More stuff, more services, more done per hour. That’s the pie getting bigger. Money through the housing door, the pie doesn’t grow. The same house just changes hands for more. You feel richer because the number on the place went up. But the country can’t actually do or make a single thing more than it could before.

Do that for thirty years and you get exactly what we’ve got. A country that looks loaded on paper and can’t work out why it feels stuck. The money’s real. It’s just locked up in land that makes nothing. And the things that would grow the pie, the businesses, the new industries, got starved of the money that went into property instead. That’s the bit people miss. The boom in one is the drought in the other. Same pool.

Here’s what that looks like on a normal Thursday. The jobs figures came out this week and they were grim. Unemployment up to 4.5%, worst since late 2021. Thirty-three thousand more people out of work, nearly 19,000 jobs gone in the month. Hit young people hardest, youth unemployment’s over 11% now, and this month the losses fell mostly on women. That’s work getting harder to find, which worries a household long before it worries anyone in Canberra. And on the very same day, the share market had one of its best days in weeks. Two numbers, one morning, pointing opposite ways. What’s good for the big end of town and what’s good for your kitchen table just aren’t always the same story.

That gap right there is the whole thing in small. A country can post lovely-looking numbers while the ground under ordinary households gets wobblier, because the wealth and the work have come unstuck from each other. And part of why they came unstuck is where the money went. Money sitting in land that just gets dearer isn’t money building the businesses that’d hire those 33,000.

You see it everywhere once you’ve spotted it. Wages that don’t climb like they used to, because there’s no productivity growth underneath pushing them up. A tax system that rewards buying the thing that makes nothing and punishes building the thing that does, so even more money goes through the wrong door. Smart people and big money chasing the next property deal instead of the next business, because that’s where the easy money’s been. None of these are separate problems. It’s the one problem wearing different hats.

Lets not make it too neat. Housing isn’t all dead weight. Building new homes is good, very good. It employs a lot of people, and having a roof over your head is worth something no GDP number ever captures. And plenty of countries with dear housing still get along fine. One bad month of jobs figures doesn’t prove any of this on its own either, the economy has its own ups and downs that have nothing to do with houses.

So it’s not that houses are the baddie, and it’s not that one bad month of jobs figures proves the whole thing on its own. It’s that when a whole country leans this hard on the one thing that doesn’t grow the pie, year after year, the pie stops growing. And when the pie stops growing, you’ve got less to go round for everything else.

That’s why it’s a big deal. The GDP in not some magic number on the telly. The GDP is the scoreboard for one choice the country keeps making without quite meaning to: do we build the thing, or just sell each other the thing we already built for more. We’ve spent a long time doing the second. And the bill for that isn’t a number. It’s a country that could’ve been doing more, and isn’t.

Your house doesn’t count. Turns out that’s not some quirk of the accounting. It’s the whole story in one line.

Daily News Round Up – 23 May 2026

Very local, state, national and the wider world, in everyday language, for people who haven’t got all day.

From a Council meeting that could decide who runs Kiama, to a budget fight reshaping Canberra and the Iran war still at the petrol pump, here’s the local-to-global wrap for 23 May 2026.

Very Local: a special Council meeting you’ll want to know about

Council has called an Extraordinary Meeting for 5pm this Wednesday 27 May, and there’s only one item on the list. That alone tells you it’s BIG. It’s Council’s formal response to the Minister’s proposed changes to the Performance Improvement Order, the “lift your game” notice that’s been hanging over Kiama. Here are the bits that caught my attention.

The big stick is now named out loud. The order spells out what happens if Council doesn’t lift. First a Financial Controller could be parachuted in to take the wheel on the money. And if that’s not enough, the Minister can suspend the Council entirely and install an administrator. In plain terms, our elected councillors could be sent home and an appointee put in charge. That’s the shadow behind every budget decision being made right now.

The good news, said out loud by the Minister. It’s not all stick. The Minister has handed Council an extra year to balance the books, now out to 2027-28, and openly acknowledged Council has made real progress. Better still, he’s pushed back on Council’s own deeper cuts, saying he’s worried about what slashing services would do to the community. So the bloke holding the order is actually arguing for gentler cuts, not harder ones. Worth remembering next time someone says Sydney is out to gut us.

Your bins are safe. The order flatly bans Council from outsourcing domestic waste services. The Minister reckons the small saving wouldn’t be worth the long-term loss to the community. Council half-agrees but is quibbling over the wording, asking that “waste management” be narrowed to “waste collection,” because it doesn’t run its own tip and needs to keep using outside contractors to cart rubbish away.

Jobs versus services, the $7 million question. This is the guts of it. Council has to close a $7 million gap between what it earns and what it spends. The order says do the gentler stuff first, the efficiency savings, before reaching for the big staff cuts. Here’s the eye-opener from Council’s own response. There were two options on the table. The bigger-saving option, $2.7 million, would mean axing community services, winding back tourism, and cutting library and Leisure Centre hours. The other saves less, $1.8 million, but hits staff numbers harder. Council is effectively saying it would rather restructure its own back office than gut the services residents actually use. That’s the choice to watch.

The accounting fight that sounds dull but isn’t. Council has lobbed back a sharp point. It says the Office of Local Government measures its performance in a way that even the NSW Auditor-General disagrees with. Council reckons that if you measured every council in the state the Auditor-General’s way, around 90 of them, roughly seven in ten across NSW, would be running at a loss. The unspoken message: don’t single Kiama out as uniquely hopeless when most of the state is in the same boat.

And yes, the parks again. Remember our holiday parks question? It’s here in black and white. The order tells Council to review its “strategic assets and revenue opportunities,” and Blue Haven Terralong gets its own special mention, with Council ordered to prepare a business case on whether to keep it, lease it, partner it out, or sell it, partly because of unresolved fire safety problems. So the asset shake-up isn’t a rumour. It’s a written instruction from the Minister.

The bottom line: this one meeting is the whole story in miniature. A small council under real pressure, an extra year of breathing room, a Minister who actually wants the cuts softened, and a quiet but crucial choice brewing between trimming the back office and trimming the services we use. It’s livestreamed on the Council website if you want to watch.

Across NSW (State)

A grim run on the roads this week, worth a mention if only because it’s the sort of thing that makes you drive a bit more carefully. Three people died in a two-car crash at Sans Souci in Sydney’s south early this morning, and there’ve been separate fatal crashes out near Warialda and Mudgee in the past few days. A sobering stretch.

On the brighter side, Vivid Sydney is now in full swing, lighting up the city every night until 13 June. If you or the family fancy a night out, the light walk and the drone shows are free, which counts for a lot just now. Rug up. It’s proper winter.