While the formal listing process still has steps to complete, the motion marks an important public acknowledgment: the Bowlo is more than a building. It is a place of continuity and community.

For decades, the club has functioned as Bangalow’s common ground – a multi-purpose civic space where sport, celebration, music and everyday connection intersect. It is one of the few venues in town where a pensioner, a young family, a sporting committee and a touring musician could share the same floor.

The Heritage Assessment identified the building’s distinctive exposed metal ceiling trusses that define the main hall space as structural features that are characteristic of bowling club architecture from the era. Comparable trusses at Willoughby Bowling Club in Sydney, built in the same period, have already been heritage listed – demonstrating that such elements are recognised as architecturally and socially significant within NSW club heritage.

But heritage, in this case, extends beyond the walls.

The bowling greens facing Byron Street herald your arrival in Bangalow. They mark a physical threshold – from highway to village – but also signal something about identity and place. The greens speak of participation, sport and shared space.

“I believe the Bangalow Bowlers who originally selected and bought this land then constructed the clubhouse on which it sits alongside its picturesque lawn bowling green, would be thrilled that their efforts will possibly be enshrined in a heritage listing which would help to ensure the whole community get to enjoy the space – and the game they love – into the future,” says Shane Mahony, current Bangalow bowler and former greenkeeper.

Council’s unanimous vote does not immediately place the Bowlo on the Local Environmental Plan’s Schedule of Heritage Items. What it does is endorse the assessment and signal that the formal listing process will proceed. That process typically involves preparation of a planning proposal, a Gateway determination from the Department of Planning, public exhibition and, ultimately, gazettal.

When listed, demolition would be highly constrained, major external alterations would require heritage impact assessment, and any future development would need to respect the site’s recognised significance.

For many in the community, this news will be met with a collective sigh of relief.

The January 2026 community survey conducted by the Save Bangalow Bowlo Steering Committee found strong alignment on one core objective – that the Bowlo should return to genuine community ownership and control. The survey also confirmed that the club is valued as a social asset, not just a property, with respondents repeatedly referencing loss of access, routine and connection if the venue’s character were compromised.

Those themes surfaced again in council debate: heritage recognition is not about nostalgia. It is about continuity of use.

The Bowlo has hosted sporting competitions, local club meetings, fundraisers, weddings, wakes, live music and daily social rituals. It has provides an accessible venue in a village with limited multi-purpose, multi-generational spaces.

Heritage recognition in this context does not freeze the building in time. It regulates demolition and unsympathetic alteration, while still allowing ongoing operation, upgrades and maintenance.

Heritage listing, in effect, strengthens the likelihood that this site remains a sports and leisure venue into the future. It does not mandate bowls forever, nor does it prevent operational evolution required to keep the venue relevant and viable. But it makes large-scale redevelopment for any other purpose significantly more difficult, and strengthens the case for the site’s continued use as community infrastructure.

Of course, heritage status also carries responsibility. A listed building must be maintained appropriately. Works require careful documentation. Future operators – whether community-led or through amalgamation – would need to balance preservation with viability.

To the casual observer, the Bowlo’s greens, hall and modest façade may not shout architectural grandeur – although architect F.J. Board was described in the Northern Star as “possibly Lismore’s greatest architect”.

The significance of this site, inside and out, lies in the accumulation of social life and participation over decades.

Heritage protection recognises the importance of proactively safeguarding such spaces.

The next steps now lie in the formal planning pathway, including public exhibition. For now, however, Council’s decision on Thursday 19 February 2026, signals something clear: Bangalow’s bowling club is being recognised not just as a building, but a significant shared ‘third place’ space and a community asset worth protecting.

Sally Schofield

It’s exhausting, living this way, when your body is a moving target.

That’s why V-Day matters. At dawn on Saturday 14 February – yes, Valentine’s Day – women, non-binary folk, and allies rise up, dressed in red on Main Beach, Byron Bay.

It’s a flashmob that’s part of the global One Billion Rising movement, that turns a day of Hallmark schmaltz and overpriced flowers into one of collective power. Because for many, relationships don’t always mean romance and respect. Or safety.

With the sand beneath our feet and the early sun on our faces, movement becomes language with a collective dance to V-Day anthem Break the Chain.

The dance acknowledges the suffering of the one-in-three women who will be beaten or raped in their lifetime. We dance because our rage needs rhythm. We dance because – unlike the 60-something Australian women who lost their lives to intimate partner violence in 2025 – we are still here. We dance because we’re not willing to let that be our daughters’ inheritance.

To those who think our slice of paradise is immune to abuses, you’re wrong. There are stories here that would make your hair curl, and over the last decade women from around the region have shared their stories as part of The Vagina Conversations, a collaborative show featuring women and people with vaginas. Inspired by Eve Ensler’s Vagina Monologues, Director Zenith Virago felt that our local community had their own stories to tell. So, she pulled together a contemporary re-imagining – not a monologue but a conversation.

This year, the Brunswick Picture House transforms into a space of courage and truth-telling.This show is not your standard theatre. It’s raw, local, real. It’s nurses, teachers, aunties, survivors – women from 17 to 83 – who step up to share their personal stories, often for the first time.

There’s knowing laughter. There’s heavy silence. There are moments when I’ve had to close my eyes, my face leaking, while I breathe through someone’s truth because it’s all too familiar.

“This show is activism in action,” says Mandy Nolan. And it is. All proceeds support frontline services like the Mullumbimby Womens’ Resource Service and Pottsville Neighbourhood Centre. To date, over $158,000 has been raised to support women escaping domestic and family violence.

So, to anyone who has felt that same tight grip of fear walking home, I say: join us. Sit with us at The Vagina Conversations and let someone else’s story make you see red. Then, if you can, on Saturday 14 February, rise early, dress in red, and come dance at the beach.

Because when we stand together, nobody flinches when you say vagina. And we remember: this body is not a battleground. It’s a force.

Sally Schofield

Photo credit: Lyn McCarthy – Niche Pictures

For autistic individuals, young and old, and those with ADHD or other sensory profiles, the festive season can be less about cheer and more about managing discomfort – with a side serving of overwhelming smells and small talk.

So, with some practical strategies (and a little empathy), here’s how to make Christmas a little more inclusive for those with unique sensory needs. It may not be a Silent Night, but with a few tweaks, you’ll get through with a little less stress and a bit more calm.

Predictability is a present

Surprises might be part of the season for some, but for many ND people, routine and predictability are essential. Wrapped gifts with unknown contents can cause anxiety. A simple solution is to write a clue on the tag or give a heads-up about the gift. Even better, gift cards can avoid any discomfort altogether. If you or your child prefer to open gifts privately, feel free to let others know.

Plan your quiet place

Whether you’re visiting someone else’s home or hosting, make sure there’s a calm space to retreat to when needed – a shady verandah, a quiet room, or even the car. Pack a sensory survival kit: comfort items, fidgets, headphones, sunglasses – whatever helps soothe and regulate. Show kids where the quiet space is and how to access it. Always ask the host before wandering through their house to find it.

Eat your way

Festive food traditions can be delightful – or a sensory nightmare. If you or your child find certain textures, flavours or smells difficult, bring your own food. There’s no need to explain or apologise. Let kids serve themselves if possible. If that ends up being plain pasta or chicken nuggets, that’s perfectly fine. It’s about comfort, not conformity.

Minimise the small talk

Chatting with extended family or acquaintances can be tiring. It’s okay to stick to brief greetings like “Merry Christmas” or “Lovely to see you” and then gracefully step away. There’s also no rule that says you have to hug or kiss relatives. Teach children they can wave, high-five or fist bump if that feels more comfortable.

Know your limits

Increased sensory input, disrupted routines and social overload can lead to shutdowns or meltdowns. Give yourself and your loved ones grace. Ready-to-cook meals are your friend. You don’t need to serve a traditional spread – festive paper plates with favourite foods work just as well.

Don’t overcommit to social events. One gathering may be plenty. Plan recovery days between activities. Give children time to unwind with drawing, gaming, pets or their favourite show. Quiet time isn’t a luxury – it’s essential.

A neurodivergent-friendly Christmas is one where consent, flexibility and personal comfort take priority over tradition or expectations. This season, let’s choose calm over chaos and joy over pressure

Sally Schofield

Recently I learned that my partner has aphantasia. The 14-hour economy class flight produced the unexpected information that she could not voluntarily visualise mental images. She couldn’t see something in her mind’s eye – and that this condition was called aphantasia.

I, on the other hand (or seat 17B in this specific circumstance), have quite the opposite condition. I can visualise things to such a vivid and spectacular degree in my mind’s eye that when I lay eyes on the actual thing, the reality can be somewhat disappointing.

When my Year 11 Ancient History teacher, Mr Rawlings, told the class all those years ago of his recent trip to Greece, he recounted sitting on some ancient marble in the ruins of the agora at the foot of the Acropolis – the agora being the meeting place of the ancient Athenian assembly. He then added casually, “It could have been almost the exact spot where the messenger Pheidippides delivered his famous line, ‘Nenikekamen!’ or ‘Rejoice! We conquer!’ before collapsing and dying.”

I was enraptured. My teenage brain exploded. I could see it so clearly in my mind’s eye that I almost dropped dead myself.

He was referring, of course, to the legend of Pheidippides, who ran the 26 miles (42 km) in 490 BCE from the battlefield of Marathon to Athens to deliver the improbable news that the vastly outnumbered Athenian army had comprehensively defeated the invading Persians.

The image never left me.

Fast-forward now 2,515 years to the relatively small space around seats 17A and 17B in an aircraft hurtling towards Greece, where your correspondent (me) is not only discovering what aphantasia is, but fairly soon will be wishing that he had it as well. Because we were flying to Athens so that I could run where Pheidippides ran.

I was competing in the Athens Marathon.

The start was incredibly exciting. I had picked up my bib (number 3852) two days previously from a stadium used for the 2004 Athens Olympics. It also contained a Marathon Expo – a huge, neon-lit, multi-storey frenzy of stalls from sporting companies with names referencing Greek gods. Consequently, and for a mere couple of hundred dollars, I had purchased (and was wearing) special marathon socks, compression sleeves for calves, knees and thighs, and a stupid marathon hat. I also had an impressive array of energy gels, electrolyte replacement gels, and a variety of salves, ointments and unguents to promote rapid muscle recovery post-event.

It was exhilarating to be one of about 25,000 participants from around the world lifting our hands in unison towards the overhead drone cameras and yelling (as instructed, in Greek and English) for world peace. There was a muffled explosion (that was the starting gun — I was a fair way back), and we shuffled forward. Five minutes later, I crossed the actual starting line and we were off.

Of the race itself I shall say little. For a running race, it was an emotional roller coaster. I can attest that the so-called ‘runner’s high’ is real. The endorphin release from intense exercise is euphoric.

It does not, however, last for 42 km.

The first 10 km were great. I loped along happily, sucking down energy gels and bright blue electrolyte replacement drinks.

It was my lower extremities that started shutting down first. Appropriately, perhaps, the Achilles area – then my calves got in on the act, and the whole nightmare moved north.

Large flags were posted every five kilometres indicating the distance completed. I noticed that the appearance of these flags slowed whilst the muscle pain increased.

Thirty Ks in and my resolve to keep running – no walking under any circumstances – had found a loophole. I overcame an urgent desire to throw myself in the bushes and weep only by having murderous thoughts about Mr Rawlings. I forced myself to hobble on.

I realise now it was a hallucination, but I swear I saw God at 35 kms. And he looked like Cliff Young.

Whoever or whatever it was, it worked. The crowds lining the final 7 km got louder. I knew they weren’t there for me, but I didn’t care. My wife was – and that was all that mattered.

Pheidippides is my hero.

Turns out he probably didn’t run the marathon after all. He did something far more impressive – he ran from Athens to Sparta before the battle to request Sparta’s help (they declined – religious festival, don’t you know), then back to Athens to deliver the bad news (about 490 km).

On that return trip, so the legend goes, Pheidippides encountered the god Pan on Mount Parthenium, who told him to ask the Athenians why they paid him no attention – he’d helped them before and possibly could be of assistance in the upcoming conflict. The Athenians believed Pheidippides and did indeed build a shrine to Pan under the Acropolis – after all, they did spectacularly repel the invaders.

I’ve always associated Pan with wind instruments and debauchery, but never in my wildest mental imaginings did he look anything like Cliff Young.

… I’m thinking now that Cliff, who ran 875 km from Sydney to Melbourne, was a modern-day Pheidippides, and since I have acquired selective aphantasia, I shall salute them both– from the sidelines.

Note

For those too young to remember, Cliff Young was a 61-year-old vegetarian potato farmer who surprised the world (especially the ultramarathon community) by winning the inaugural Sydney to Melbourne race, essentially by not sleeping. The quintessential human tortoise in a field of hares.

Feature image Angus writing this story on Hydro near Leonard Cohen’s former domicile Photo Sue Franklin (participant in the recent Bangalow Herald photography for news workshop!)

So, when the club shut its doors abruptly earlier this year, no community notice, no public consultation – just a sign and a visit from the locksmith – it hit harder than expected. Because what we lost wasn’t just a building with beer and bowls. We lost a ‘third place’.

Urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined that term in 1989 to describe spaces that exist outside home (the first place) and work (the second place), where community happens organically. “Third places,” he wrote, “are neutral ground… informal, accessible, accommodating… a home away from home.”

Sound familiar?

The Bowlo – as it’s still affectionately known – ticked every box of what makes a ‘third place’ function. It was plain in appearance but welcoming, down-to-earth in its tone, and full of regulars. You could play barefoot bowls with toddlers and teens, or sip a schooner alongside a pensioner watching the footy. No social hierarchy. Just being.

And that presence mattered more than we knew.

The club was absorbed into a Sydney-based consortium through an amalgamation completed in 2023 – one of several regional acquisitions framed as upgrades but largely ending in disrepair and closure. The promised investment never came. Sports clubs, initially wooed by sponsorship money, were left out of pocket. Staff left. And on 24 October, the lights went out without warning.

Local sporting groups have been left without training facilities and a ‘clubhouse’. Carolyn, a Bangalow Netball Club committee member, says “The abrupt closure of the Bangalow Bowling Club has had a significant impact on the Bangalow Netball Club. The Bowlo was the training courts for five netball teams and we used them every Wednesday afternoon. Families may now have to travel to other towns just so their children can train. This puts the club at real risk of losing players and memberships. We hope there is a local solution to ensure our players can continue to participate in the sport they love and remain connected to their community.”

The social impact has been immediate and devastating.

For many older residents, the club was their primary – sometimes only – point of social contact. “Third places,” says academic Louis Heath, who has extensively researched the role of Bowling Clubs in Australian society “are particularly important for those sectors of society that have limited opportunities for social interaction such as the older and new members of the community.” They provide reasons to leave the house, interact, and regain a sense of self beyond the walls of home.

For others, particularly men, the club offered what mental health professionals call a ‘soft entry point’ – an accessible place to talk without the pressure of formality or stigma.

You could just ‘drop in’ no appointment necessary. The famed ‘Table of Knowledge’ is evidence of this. That option is now gone.

For those with limited mobility, chronic health issues or disability, the actual building was one of the only accessible venues in the whole town providing respite from the weather for older residents, or those who, like Richie Allen (now quadriplegic after a sporting accident on the very fields the club overlooks), requires a thermostatically-controlled environment such as that the club once offered, to ensure his comfort and quality of life.

The closure of the club spells the end of a vital cross-generational connector. Bangalow’s Bowlo was one of the rare places where you’d see a 75-year-old retiree swapping gardening tips with a 20-something tradie, or where kids could run free in ‘the cage’ while frazzled parents debriefed on the week that was.

“We have lost our meeting and connection place. How wonderful that any time we popped into the Bowlo we would run into friends, kids would play and we would connect. We are really feeling its absence,” says Anna, mother of two aged 5 and 9.

For newcomers to town, it offered an informal gateway into the community – somewhere to strike up a conversation, find out who’s who, enjoy a meal with friends, or be entertained by people-watching, trivia nights, open-mic events, and incredible live music.

“When Norths suddenly shut the doors of the Bangalow Bowlo, it ripped a hole in the cultural life of the shire,” says Barry ‘Dr Baz’ Ferrier. ‘For musicians, the Bowlo was one of the few remaining grassroots venues where original music, low-key youth gigs and experimental projects could actually happen. There’s a proud history of local bands, touring acts and emerging songwriters all using the auditorium as a launch pad. There’s ‘closed’ sign means lost income, and one less stage in a region that already struggles to keep live music spaces alive.”

“For the open mic community, the impact is even more personal. With a 26-year history these nights weren’t just about getting up and having a sing – they were a weekly ritual where retirees shared the bill with teenagers, where shy writers tried new songs for the first time, and where friendships and collaborations were born over cheap meals and a relaxed crowd.”

Now, the building is locked, and the interiors are neglected. Neighbours have noted rising mould and the unmistakable scent of decay that clings when a space meant for people is left empty. It’s a second insult – the slow undoing of a place where so many memories live. Life events commemorated, losses mourned, graduations celebrated, grand finals won (or lost), a wedding or two, book clubs, Two-Up, a decent parmi/parma and a pint, discos, fundraisers, trivia nights and some of the best live entertainment in the country. Or just shooting the breeze on the back deck overlooking the sports fields, and marvelling at how bloody lucky you are to be living in this paradise?

We often measure community loss in economic terms – jobs lost, property value affected – but what of cultural cost? Emotional continuity? Social wellbeing? Louis reminds us that “bowling clubs significantly contribute to the social capital of our communities… fostering the social wellbeing of many, particularly older, community members.”

We need to make a stand for the value of these places for what they are really: vital infrastructure. Not just venues or businesses, but spaces that carry the emotional weight of community. They aren’t interchangeable. The damage isn’t irreparable – yet. But it does require acknowledgement, transparency and local say in what happens next. Will the community be invited back in? Or will the site continue to rot while the consortium deliberates from afar?

Whatever the outcome, I know this: when a town loses its third place, it doesn’t just lose its clubhouse. It loses part of its collective heartbeat. And I know I’m not the only one who’s not going to stand by and let that happen.

In the weeks since closure, extreme heat and heavy rain has created the perfect environment for mould to proliferate. With no maintenance, cleaning or caretaking in place, the once-lively building is both physically and symbolically rotting. Locals have reported signs of vandalism to the carefully (mostly voluntarily) maintained bowling green. For a club that served its community for 115 years, this feels like a dishonourable demise. It deserves better. We deserve better.

Residents are encouraged to:
• Donate  https://www.gofundme.com/f/bangalow-community-reopen-bangalow-bowlo
• Volunteer their time or expertise – email  savebangalowbowlo@gmail.com
• Write to Norths Collective as Bowlo members concerned about the broken promises and closure of the club
• Follow updates on the Save Bangalow Bowlo Facebook page http:facebook.com/SaveBangalowBowlo

Sally Schofield

Historic images courtesy of the Bangalow Bowling Club

Over 80 people gathered at the Moller Pavilion, Bangalow at short notice to have a say, ask questions and volunteer in many capacities for essential roles to ensure the community has the best chance of retaining ownership of the club. The session was chaired by Councillor Asren Pugh, and myself, Sally Schofield, as a concerned community member and communications professional.

Now, for those playing at home, this is not the first time the club has been threatened with closure.

Some say in the past 20 years there’s been a few close calls, the last resulting in a highly contentious ‘bail out’ via amalgamation with Sydney-based Norths Collective.

Norths’ commercial formula is the acquisition of ailing businesses with the view of breathing life back into licensed establishments. In their words: “We are in the business of running clubs – and making them better by embedding them within their local community and with the local sports clubs.”[1]

The amalgamation was proposed in 2022 including a Memorandum of Understanding that was edited and revised between Norths and the then Board of the now defunct Bangalow Bowling Club. Norths proudly promoted this agreement as “creating a clear path forward for the Bowlo to be financially secure well into the future.”[2]

Pre-amalgamation, Norths made a compelling pitch to the local community that they were in a position both financially and professionally to restore the club to optimal operation, as soon as three months following the MoU.

So, the sports clubs, members and the wider community were stunned by the sudden closure of the club which came without warning. The closure also cited several reasons why the venue had ceased trading, the number one being the state of the building (which Norths had pledged to fix as part of the deal).

At the impromptu meeting, community members formed tables of knowledge and expertise, and quickly established key areas of concern and strategic opportunities for ways forward.

Naturally, the legal table committed to scrutinising the MoU with the assistance of a barrister should the need arise for further action.

A hospitality table joined forces, pooling their decades worth of experience for revamping the food and drink side of things, while an entertainment and events group scoped out potential streams for supporting the club via live events, and fundraising.

The building and construction table were particularly productive, organising an independent building report to confirm (or not) the safety of the building, cited by Norths as the primary reason for immediate closure.

A team of business and finance specialists explored ideas about what was publicly perceived to have gone wrong with the Norths operation (in the absence of any financial reports relating to the Bowlo), and a detailed checklist of points to review was drawn up.

A table of sports club representatives shared their views on the situation and emphasises the importance of the sponsorship money owed by Norths (and promised in the MoU) much of which is still outstanding.

Finally, the communications and marketing table made extensive plans for local, national and wider coverage of the sudden closure of the Club and the lack of clarity around the stated reasons. A media plan has been drawn up focusing on social media, crowd funding, radio and television interviews to raise public awareness for the efforts of a small group of Bangalow folk trying to take on a financial-focused Sydney based consortium.

Whats App groups and group emails have popped up, and regular meetings called to ensure the tables of knowledge (and new recruits) are connecting meaningfully with one another and all working in the same direction. It’s heartwarming to see.

There is still plenty to be done. The first step is the Save Bangalow Bowlo group creating a new Advisory Committee (which then needs to be introduced to Norths via the current Bangalow Advisory Committee) who, after Norths approval, will then be permitted to communicate directly with Norths on this matter, but under the strictest confidence.

It was delightful to see the number of eligible community members who came forward to volunteer for these positions, and it can only be hoped that Norths Collective approves these nominations swiftly so that the next stage of negotiation can continue.

Norths Collective issued an alarmingly short time frame for a community response of 28 days (some say ‘one month’, another sticking point in negotiations), so the Save Bangalow Bowlo group is working around, and against, the clock to get new representatives for the Advisory Committee in place in order to continue discussions.

The clubs aren’t happy, the players aren’t happy, the patrons aren’t happy and the rest of the community is wondering what the hell is going on. The Save Bangalow Bowlo group is trying to get to the bottom of it and they will need your support in many ways to do this over a very, very short period of time.

If you can assist with a significant financial contribution, now’s the time to speak up – email savebangalowbowlo@gmail.com for a confidential discussion.

Community members with expertise in any of the areas mentioned above, a willingness for working bees (yes, here we go again, thanks Norths), or ideas for fundraising, donations of products, services and supplies – Save Bangalow Bowlo is also calling on you, so get in touch savebangalowbowlo@gmail.com

Everyone else invested in keeping the community asset in community hands, rest assured your opinions matter. You will soon be invited to express your hopes and fears for the Club via an online form, as well as advising ways in which you might be involved in the Save Bangalow Bowlo group but in the meantime, email savebangalowbowlo@gmail.com with any comments or insights you have.

The issue of amalgamation with Norths tore the village in two back in ’22. It’s heartwarming to see that we are once again united with the common goal of returning this essential community asset back to the hands of the people of Bangalow.

Sally Schofield

[1] Norths Collective website (https://northscollective.com.au/bangalowbowlo/), accessed 4/11/2025

[2] Ibid.

READ MORE

Sudden closure sparks community action
(25 October 2025)

Norths goes south
(24 October 2025)

Norths grilled over delays on Bowlo promises
(24 May 2025)

I took a lesson from a young woman recently. A fresh-faced, smooth-skinned woman not yet 20 and on the verge of stepping into the tricky – oh so tricky – world of adulthood came to stay with me.

She came for a few nights as her accommodation had become unsafe, with drunken young men carousing at night and generally doing what drunken young people do. Despite this, she was unhurried and composed. I watched her slowly unpack, cook with grace, and then rest. She was measured, unruffled in her manner. She didn’t dwell on the recent upset in her life; instead, she calmly went about reorganising herself.

It gave me pause. I suddenly realised I had been rushing all through my life. For years I had been giving myself lists of tasks, goals – things I felt I needed or ought to do. And what happened when I finished a list? I made another one. This young woman asked, “Shall I clean the kitchen?” And then she did.

It startled me to realise that I have always approached life as something To Be Done – to be tackled and completed in the most efficient and rapid way possible. I know about deadlines, of course, but this was a deeper, more subtle approach to life in general. She finished cleaning, then sat down and took a break. She seemed to have no internal compulsion to race through things. She just calmly went about her day.

Watching her made me sharply aware of how much I have hurried through life. How being efficient had gained a status in my psyche. Something as simple as hanging out the washing had to be done quickly and efficiently. I thought, Why have I been in such a hurry? Did hurrying make any difference? Was setting goals burdensome?

Life rolled on, things happened, and then other things happened – and the amount of speed or efficiency I put into it… well, I’m not sure it made a difference.

Here was an unhurried woman. She was in that golden, liminal time on the edge of adulthood, when life is full of possibility. I saw her steadiness. It was a good lesson, one that I appear to have learned late. There’s no hurry – life will meet you regardless.

I went out into the garden. It would be time soon to do the winter plantings. It would be hard to shrug off a lifetime of must/should/ need, but I would try. I would begin by having a cup of tea, trusting that all would be well and all manner of things would be well. I resolved to sit, listen to the earth, watch the sky and simply be (another goal?). It might be hard to change that hurrying pattern, but sitting under the pepper tree and thinking about seedlings would be a good start.

I looked up. Two tawny frogmouths perched in stillness high above. They weren’t in a hurry. I didn’t need to make this moment mean anything. I could sit and drink my tea. The garden, the birds and the tree continued to just be.

This reality is at the heart of an upcoming community conversation, Climate Change and Our Region’s Future, hosted this month by the Bangalow Country Women’s Association (CWA). Here, Dr Joëlle Gergis, a leading climate scientist and lead author for the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), will share her insights on the global and local impacts of climate change—and offer solutions for building resilience in our communities.

Dr Gergis has spent 30 years studying climate science, but it was her personal experience in the Northern Rivers that truly brought the issue home. “Watching rainforests burn in the Nightcap and Lamington National Parks during the Black Summer fires of 2019–2020 was the turning point for me,” she recalls. “I was working on the UN climate report at the time and knew that what we were witnessing in Australia was a clear sign of how quickly our climate can change. Things really hit home when I had family displaced by the devastating floods in 2022. Driving through town after the floods broke my heart. Since then, I’ve been doing everything I can to warn the public.”

Her deep connection to the region makes her message even more powerful. The Northern Rivers, with its delicate ecosystems, is already feeling the effects of more frequent and intense weather events—floods, fires, and storms. These are not isolated incidents; they are part of a larger, global pattern. As Dr Gergis points out, the situation is becoming increasingly urgent.

The IPCC reports, to which Dr Gergis has contributed as a lead author, are the world’s most authoritative sources on climate change. These reports synthesise decades of research from thousands of scientists globally and provide the data used by governments to shape policy and international climate treaties.

As a lead author, Dr Gergis plays a key role in distilling this complex scientific data into accessible insights. This careful, collaborative process ensures that the findings are both accurate and actionable. As she says: “The most important thing you can do is vote for political leaders that are genuinely committed to addressing climate change. That means stopping fossil fuel production and the subsidies that are blocking the clean energy transition. We also need policies to protect our native forests, which store carbon and protect biodiversity.”

These actions, both large and small, can help shift the course of the climate crisis – and Dr Gergis’ work is a reminder of just how critical it is to act now.

Despite the overwhelming scale of the climate crisis, Dr Gergis remains hopeful about local action. She believes we each have a role to play, whether through voting for climateconscious leaders, supporting renewable energy initiatives, or making sustainable choices in our own lives. “The next best thing to do is try and install solar power on your home or business. Not only does it save you money, but you become a part of the renewable energy revolution that’s sweeping the world. I’m amazed how good it made me feel!”

Dr Gergis’ message is clear: even small steps can contribute to a broader shift. The more we embrace renewable energy and advocate for systemic change, the more we’ll build momentum toward a sustainable future.

As we mark the five-year anniversary of the Black Summer bushfires, the scars from those fires remain. The fires were a grim reminder of the escalating risks posed by a changing climate. The impacts of climate change, though, are not confined to Australia. As Dr Gergis points out, the entire globe is experiencing similar challenges.

As this article goes to print, Dr Gergis is also working on a piece for The Saturday Paper about the ongoing wildfires in Los Angeles—a devastating example of the far-reaching consequences of climate change.

In times of crisis, local communities often provide the first line of support. When the 2022 floods ravaged nearby towns, Bangalow, though not as severely impacted, mobilised in remarkable ways. Our town’s response was a powerful reminder that resilience is not just about rebuilding homes and infrastructure—it’s about strengthening the social fabric that holds us together.

This is where organisations like the Bangalow CWA play a vital role. While the CWA is known for its afternoon teas and community events, its real strength lies in its ability to unite people during times of need. Bangalow Branch President, Ruth Kirby, reflects on how the CWA adapted after the 2022 floods.

“The floods were a real wake-up call for us in the CWA,” she says. “Yes, we could donate money, make meals, and offer cuppas and kindness—but we sort of felt at a loss, that we were in a silo. Since then, we’ve been making a real effort to link up with community groups like the Men’s Shed and Lions, to combine our efforts. We’re now part of a grassroots resilience movement across the Northern Rivers.”

For Ruth, the CWA’s efforts are about more than immediate relief—they’re about fostering long-term resilience and compassion. The group’s focus on building a compassionate, connected community ensures that we are better equipped to face future challenges together.

“The real strength of groups like ours is the ability to unite people in times of need. Beyond the famous scones and afternoon teas, it’s about building a compassionate, resilient community that can face difficult times together and come out stronger.”

Dr Gergis is hopeful about what we can accomplish if we continue to push for change. “What gives me hope is that there’s a new generation of leadership emerging, from all sides of politics, that really wants to make a difference on this issue,” she says. “We’re building a critical mass that will push us toward an environmentally sustainable society. As we saw during the floods, local communities have a crucial role to play in disaster recovery and resilience building. There will be dark days ahead, but we’re always stronger when we face challenges together.”

Zoë Tuckwell

In Conversation with Joëlle Gergis – Climate Change and Our Region’s Future
When Wednesday 12 February, 5–6.30pm Where Heritage House, Bangalow Hosted by Bangalow CWA
Tickets Available via Humanitix https://events.humanitix.com/climate-change-and-our-regions-future-with-joelle-gergis-hosted-by-bangalow-cwa

Seats are free but limited, so be sure to grab yours soon.

In the pandemic, I walked my friend’s dog, Clover, around the block and in doing so became aware of the many canine conversations in my neighbourhood. All the dogs know each other, who does what, who is friendly, who is overprotective, who is unhappy. The dog owners know them too – who nips, who barks, who races up and down a fence line, who wags their tail. The dog world is very much a part of any community. There are a lot of conversations that go on at the park or on the beach. I like to think those sensitive doggy noses have a code for people. ‘Here comes Long Black,’ they might say in their doggy way, ‘Double Shot Espresso is looking a bit dusty, must have had a big night. Oh look! Decaf Soy Latte is approaching Cappuccino, what’s that all about? Cappuccino never talks to anyone. So much simpler to sniff a puddle of wee, have a quick butt inspection and boom, you can keep walking. Humans, they sigh,’ as they tug on leads. ‘Such slow learners.’

Dogs bear witness to our lives. They bring us love, charm, and company. When the pandemic began, there was a big upsurge in pet fostering as people, now working from home, sought the companionship of animals they felt they previously didn’t have time to care for properly. Across the land, dogs rejoiced as families stayed home. Cats were not convinced.

It was referred to as crisis companionship. Suddenly thrust back onto our own devices and confined to quarters, we thought about pets. We looked to them for friendship in a darkening time. We knew we could count on pets to supply that with unflinching loyalty. Let’s hope those animals who got new homes were kept in their warm homes and treated with kindness, regular food, and pats.

The truth is, we love our pets. They ask so little and they give so much. Currently, my friend George, a small, docile terrier, is lying on the hospital bed of his master, who has had a stroke and cannot move but derives a great deal of comfort from having George’s warm body snuggled up. George sighs gently, licks his hand, and sleeps with him. He will wait for as long as it takes until his master is back with him for walks and games of ball toss. This unflinching loyalty is deep and good medicine for my friend who was fretting for him.

Many pet owners will understand the sentiments of Queen Victoria who was very sad when her beloved spaniel Dash died. She wrote this moving epitaph which sums up why we love our devoted canine friends “Here lies DASH, the favourite spaniel of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, in his 10th year. His attachment was without selfishness. His playfulness without malice, His fidelity without deceit.”

Fidelity, attachment, playfulness. You couldn’t ask for more in a friend.

Photo: For the love of dogs Photo Lyn McCarthy Niche Pictures

The acceptance of vibrant, comfortable clothing may be one of the few glimmers of light in a world drenched in out-of-control, rabid social media, and horrid, alarming news.

Which brings me to kaftans. My daughter and I were strolling along the shops when we passed a place selling kaftans. We were immediately attracted by the rainbow glitter and dazzling selection of colours. Huzzah! we thought, perfect for the quirky and ever-accepting Northern Rivers, and very suitable in a humid climate. We nearly fainted at the cost. These kaftans were pricey! Then we saw the sale rack and quickly scuttled over. We do love a sale rack. Well, excuse me while I larf. Their version of a sale and mine were hundreds and hundreds of dollars apart. We sidled our low-brow, shabby, cheap no-good butts out of there.

Our commitment to colour and comfort remained. We know women, men, and non-specific gender people of all ages who favour the brightly-coloured-verging-on-outrageous kaftan, and I must say, they look utterly fabulous. Comfy AND glamorous. That’s more like it.

So where will you shop for your kaftans and quirky clothing and not go broke or feel shamed in an expensive shop? Fear not, fellow seeker of a reasonably priced kaftan—op shops, markets, and good old FB Marketplace are places to shop inexpensively, and not contribute to the HUGE amount of clothing waste. Here you can display that perfect combo of virtue, thrift, and style.

Note well that despite the darkness at the edges, the Interweb can be used for good as well as evil. If that means unleashing a wave of people dressed comfortably in vibrant, glamorous, glittering colours into a grey old world, why then, let’s go. Nothing to lose! Smiles, laughter, and acceptance all around.

I am convinced we need more laughter, joy, and delight. Recently I saw a sign at a swimming pool that said: ‘No Skylarking!’ What an instruction. As if we all long to sit primly on our chairs and be obedient. Hell no!

That kind of talk only brings out the brat in us. My thinking is this: pop on your brightest kaftan (you will be on trend, remember) and start skylarking immediately.

Dr Airdre Grant