The best winter escape is a pile of fresh books
This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to theechidna.com.au
The sun's early departure behind the escarpment used to fuel resentment. Any warmth turned quickly to chill. Muscles tightened, bones ached as night closed in after 4.30pm. I felt cheated.
Winter, you always seemed mean, a bitter interlude between autumn's colourful glory and spring's message of hope and renewal.
But you're changing.
As each year passes, you grow milder. The frosts that once settled regularly have become rare, at least in this coastal hinterland. The skies of unrelenting grey are now more likely cobalt. And less than a week in and I can already count the sleeps until the days grow longer and you begin your return to the northern hemisphere, where I've always thought you belong.
This year, I've resolved to seek out your charms and make the most of them.
You see, I'm changing too.
During the day, when you grace us with clear skies, I'll snatch a few minutes here, a few there, in that patch of sun that makes its way under the deck. Warmth in winter is precious, more so when delivered naturally by sunlight. It lifts the spirits and by helping the body to produce vitamin D boosts the health of muscles and bones. Not too much; a total of three hours per week will do.
I'll find enrichment in your long nights, too, and not just with the hearty food the season demands - the soups; the pasta; the long, slow roasts.
Winter is the season for reading and this year's headstart in autumn has me immersed in ancient Rome and Egypt.
Mary Beard and Tom Holland have introduced me to the scandalous lives of the Roman emperors, opening my ears to the echoes now sounding in world affairs. Caligula, I see you in the White House!
Guy de la Bedoyere is peeling back the mysteries of Tutankhamun's dynasty, revealing as he goes the immense difficulty faced by Egyptologists as they try to make sense of the ancient civilisation.
After that, Islam Issa's history of Alexandria awaits. Only self-discipline prevents me from leap-frogging to it.
The promise of losing myself in these fascinating stories bestows appeal on the long winter nights. I've even come to welcome them. As the house creaks and shudders in the cold, these histories transport me. They're inexpensive escapes into worlds unknown.
So, winter, while you have me in your grip, I intend to make the most of it. The pile of books by the armchair will grow. So, too, the pile on the bedside table which already threatens to topple over.
Not for me whiling away the nights in passive entrapment to the TV. Far better the adventures of the mind, which spring from the pages of books.
As I write this, the shadows outside lengthen. The sun dips towards the escarpment. My thoughts turn to ancient Egypt and the evening's journey which lies ahead.
HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you read more in winter? Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction? What book are reading now? Besides time to read, what are winter's other redeeming features? Email us: echidna@theechidna.com.au
SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too.
IN CASE YOU MISSED IT:
- Minimum wage earners will take home an extra $32 a week in pay after the industrial umpire handed nearly three million low-paid workers a wage rise above inflation.
- The Greens are facing their "most serious test" as a party following the defection of a senator to Labor after a poor federal election result.
- Minutes from the last Reserve Bank board meeting reveal why they came close to an unusually large cut, as the bank's chief economist outlines how they think Donald Trump's tariffs could hit the domestic economy.
THEY SAID IT: "A home without books is a body without soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero
YOU SAID IT: A chat with Giuseppe and a delicious panini show that food shopping need not be joyless chore.
Murray, who grew up in Christchurch in the 1960s, remembers his delight at the variety of food he found in local delicatessens when he moved to Australia. "It was a revelation. Over the last 20 years food shopping has gone a full circle. Everything is pre-packaged for your convenience. And to remove any sensory enjoyment whatsoever. It's all so dreary."
All is not lost, writes Paul, who recently spent 10 weeks in Tasmania. "People were generally a lot friendlier, always having the time to chat. Overall, the produce was so much nicer than on the mainland. Sourdough bakeries everywhere, good coffee, great wineries, and nearly every town has weekend markets where you can buy local. Everything is close."
Brad laments the changes: "Yes, there were delis, fruit shops, butchers and the ubiquitous milk bars in the '60s. And the proprietors were locals who knew our parents and us children by name. Now it's the super stores and the multinational franchises that inhabit every suburb. Time poor is matched by quality poor. Correlation with mental health crisis, anyone?"
This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to theechidna.com.au
The sun's early departure behind the escarpment used to fuel resentment. Any warmth turned quickly to chill. Muscles tightened, bones ached as night closed in after 4.30pm. I felt cheated.
Winter, you always seemed mean, a bitter interlude between autumn's colourful glory and spring's message of hope and renewal.
But you're changing.
As each year passes, you grow milder. The frosts that once settled regularly have become rare, at least in this coastal hinterland. The skies of unrelenting grey are now more likely cobalt. And less than a week in and I can already count the sleeps until the days grow longer and you begin your return to the northern hemisphere, where I've always thought you belong.
This year, I've resolved to seek out your charms and make the most of them.
You see, I'm changing too.
During the day, when you grace us with clear skies, I'll snatch a few minutes here, a few there, in that patch of sun that makes its way under the deck. Warmth in winter is precious, more so when delivered naturally by sunlight. It lifts the spirits and by helping the body to produce vitamin D boosts the health of muscles and bones. Not too much; a total of three hours per week will do.
I'll find enrichment in your long nights, too, and not just with the hearty food the season demands - the soups; the pasta; the long, slow roasts.
Winter is the season for reading and this year's headstart in autumn has me immersed in ancient Rome and Egypt.
Mary Beard and Tom Holland have introduced me to the scandalous lives of the Roman emperors, opening my ears to the echoes now sounding in world affairs. Caligula, I see you in the White House!
Guy de la Bedoyere is peeling back the mysteries of Tutankhamun's dynasty, revealing as he goes the immense difficulty faced by Egyptologists as they try to make sense of the ancient civilisation.
After that, Islam Issa's history of Alexandria awaits. Only self-discipline prevents me from leap-frogging to it.
The promise of losing myself in these fascinating stories bestows appeal on the long winter nights. I've even come to welcome them. As the house creaks and shudders in the cold, these histories transport me. They're inexpensive escapes into worlds unknown.
So, winter, while you have me in your grip, I intend to make the most of it. The pile of books by the armchair will grow. So, too, the pile on the bedside table which already threatens to topple over.
Not for me whiling away the nights in passive entrapment to the TV. Far better the adventures of the mind, which spring from the pages of books.
As I write this, the shadows outside lengthen. The sun dips towards the escarpment. My thoughts turn to ancient Egypt and the evening's journey which lies ahead.
HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you read more in winter? Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction? What book are reading now? Besides time to read, what are winter's other redeeming features? Email us: echidna@theechidna.com.au
SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too.
IN CASE YOU MISSED IT:
- Minimum wage earners will take home an extra $32 a week in pay after the industrial umpire handed nearly three million low-paid workers a wage rise above inflation.
- The Greens are facing their "most serious test" as a party following the defection of a senator to Labor after a poor federal election result.
- Minutes from the last Reserve Bank board meeting reveal why they came close to an unusually large cut, as the bank's chief economist outlines how they think Donald Trump's tariffs could hit the domestic economy.
THEY SAID IT: "A home without books is a body without soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero
YOU SAID IT: A chat with Giuseppe and a delicious panini show that food shopping need not be joyless chore.
Murray, who grew up in Christchurch in the 1960s, remembers his delight at the variety of food he found in local delicatessens when he moved to Australia. "It was a revelation. Over the last 20 years food shopping has gone a full circle. Everything is pre-packaged for your convenience. And to remove any sensory enjoyment whatsoever. It's all so dreary."
All is not lost, writes Paul, who recently spent 10 weeks in Tasmania. "People were generally a lot friendlier, always having the time to chat. Overall, the produce was so much nicer than on the mainland. Sourdough bakeries everywhere, good coffee, great wineries, and nearly every town has weekend markets where you can buy local. Everything is close."
Brad laments the changes: "Yes, there were delis, fruit shops, butchers and the ubiquitous milk bars in the '60s. And the proprietors were locals who knew our parents and us children by name. Now it's the super stores and the multinational franchises that inhabit every suburb. Time poor is matched by quality poor. Correlation with mental health crisis, anyone?"
This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to theechidna.com.au
The sun's early departure behind the escarpment used to fuel resentment. Any warmth turned quickly to chill. Muscles tightened, bones ached as night closed in after 4.30pm. I felt cheated.
Winter, you always seemed mean, a bitter interlude between autumn's colourful glory and spring's message of hope and renewal.
But you're changing.
As each year passes, you grow milder. The frosts that once settled regularly have become rare, at least in this coastal hinterland. The skies of unrelenting grey are now more likely cobalt. And less than a week in and I can already count the sleeps until the days grow longer and you begin your return to the northern hemisphere, where I've always thought you belong.
This year, I've resolved to seek out your charms and make the most of them.
You see, I'm changing too.
During the day, when you grace us with clear skies, I'll snatch a few minutes here, a few there, in that patch of sun that makes its way under the deck. Warmth in winter is precious, more so when delivered naturally by sunlight. It lifts the spirits and by helping the body to produce vitamin D boosts the health of muscles and bones. Not too much; a total of three hours per week will do.
I'll find enrichment in your long nights, too, and not just with the hearty food the season demands - the soups; the pasta; the long, slow roasts.
Winter is the season for reading and this year's headstart in autumn has me immersed in ancient Rome and Egypt.
Mary Beard and Tom Holland have introduced me to the scandalous lives of the Roman emperors, opening my ears to the echoes now sounding in world affairs. Caligula, I see you in the White House!
Guy de la Bedoyere is peeling back the mysteries of Tutankhamun's dynasty, revealing as he goes the immense difficulty faced by Egyptologists as they try to make sense of the ancient civilisation.
After that, Islam Issa's history of Alexandria awaits. Only self-discipline prevents me from leap-frogging to it.
The promise of losing myself in these fascinating stories bestows appeal on the long winter nights. I've even come to welcome them. As the house creaks and shudders in the cold, these histories transport me. They're inexpensive escapes into worlds unknown.
So, winter, while you have me in your grip, I intend to make the most of it. The pile of books by the armchair will grow. So, too, the pile on the bedside table which already threatens to topple over.
Not for me whiling away the nights in passive entrapment to the TV. Far better the adventures of the mind, which spring from the pages of books.
As I write this, the shadows outside lengthen. The sun dips towards the escarpment. My thoughts turn to ancient Egypt and the evening's journey which lies ahead.
HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you read more in winter? Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction? What book are reading now? Besides time to read, what are winter's other redeeming features? Email us: echidna@theechidna.com.au
SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too.
IN CASE YOU MISSED IT:
- Minimum wage earners will take home an extra $32 a week in pay after the industrial umpire handed nearly three million low-paid workers a wage rise above inflation.
- The Greens are facing their "most serious test" as a party following the defection of a senator to Labor after a poor federal election result.
- Minutes from the last Reserve Bank board meeting reveal why they came close to an unusually large cut, as the bank's chief economist outlines how they think Donald Trump's tariffs could hit the domestic economy.
THEY SAID IT: "A home without books is a body without soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero
YOU SAID IT: A chat with Giuseppe and a delicious panini show that food shopping need not be joyless chore.
Murray, who grew up in Christchurch in the 1960s, remembers his delight at the variety of food he found in local delicatessens when he moved to Australia. "It was a revelation. Over the last 20 years food shopping has gone a full circle. Everything is pre-packaged for your convenience. And to remove any sensory enjoyment whatsoever. It's all so dreary."
All is not lost, writes Paul, who recently spent 10 weeks in Tasmania. "People were generally a lot friendlier, always having the time to chat. Overall, the produce was so much nicer than on the mainland. Sourdough bakeries everywhere, good coffee, great wineries, and nearly every town has weekend markets where you can buy local. Everything is close."
Brad laments the changes: "Yes, there were delis, fruit shops, butchers and the ubiquitous milk bars in the '60s. And the proprietors were locals who knew our parents and us children by name. Now it's the super stores and the multinational franchises that inhabit every suburb. Time poor is matched by quality poor. Correlation with mental health crisis, anyone?"
This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to theechidna.com.au
The sun's early departure behind the escarpment used to fuel resentment. Any warmth turned quickly to chill. Muscles tightened, bones ached as night closed in after 4.30pm. I felt cheated.
Winter, you always seemed mean, a bitter interlude between autumn's colourful glory and spring's message of hope and renewal.
But you're changing.
As each year passes, you grow milder. The frosts that once settled regularly have become rare, at least in this coastal hinterland. The skies of unrelenting grey are now more likely cobalt. And less than a week in and I can already count the sleeps until the days grow longer and you begin your return to the northern hemisphere, where I've always thought you belong.
This year, I've resolved to seek out your charms and make the most of them.
You see, I'm changing too.
During the day, when you grace us with clear skies, I'll snatch a few minutes here, a few there, in that patch of sun that makes its way under the deck. Warmth in winter is precious, more so when delivered naturally by sunlight. It lifts the spirits and by helping the body to produce vitamin D boosts the health of muscles and bones. Not too much; a total of three hours per week will do.
I'll find enrichment in your long nights, too, and not just with the hearty food the season demands - the soups; the pasta; the long, slow roasts.
Winter is the season for reading and this year's headstart in autumn has me immersed in ancient Rome and Egypt.
Mary Beard and Tom Holland have introduced me to the scandalous lives of the Roman emperors, opening my ears to the echoes now sounding in world affairs. Caligula, I see you in the White House!
Guy de la Bedoyere is peeling back the mysteries of Tutankhamun's dynasty, revealing as he goes the immense difficulty faced by Egyptologists as they try to make sense of the ancient civilisation.
After that, Islam Issa's history of Alexandria awaits. Only self-discipline prevents me from leap-frogging to it.
The promise of losing myself in these fascinating stories bestows appeal on the long winter nights. I've even come to welcome them. As the house creaks and shudders in the cold, these histories transport me. They're inexpensive escapes into worlds unknown.
So, winter, while you have me in your grip, I intend to make the most of it. The pile of books by the armchair will grow. So, too, the pile on the bedside table which already threatens to topple over.
Not for me whiling away the nights in passive entrapment to the TV. Far better the adventures of the mind, which spring from the pages of books.
As I write this, the shadows outside lengthen. The sun dips towards the escarpment. My thoughts turn to ancient Egypt and the evening's journey which lies ahead.
HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you read more in winter? Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction? What book are reading now? Besides time to read, what are winter's other redeeming features? Email us: echidna@theechidna.com.au
SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too.
IN CASE YOU MISSED IT:
- Minimum wage earners will take home an extra $32 a week in pay after the industrial umpire handed nearly three million low-paid workers a wage rise above inflation.
- The Greens are facing their "most serious test" as a party following the defection of a senator to Labor after a poor federal election result.
- Minutes from the last Reserve Bank board meeting reveal why they came close to an unusually large cut, as the bank's chief economist outlines how they think Donald Trump's tariffs could hit the domestic economy.
THEY SAID IT: "A home without books is a body without soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero
YOU SAID IT: A chat with Giuseppe and a delicious panini show that food shopping need not be joyless chore.
Murray, who grew up in Christchurch in the 1960s, remembers his delight at the variety of food he found in local delicatessens when he moved to Australia. "It was a revelation. Over the last 20 years food shopping has gone a full circle. Everything is pre-packaged for your convenience. And to remove any sensory enjoyment whatsoever. It's all so dreary."
All is not lost, writes Paul, who recently spent 10 weeks in Tasmania. "People were generally a lot friendlier, always having the time to chat. Overall, the produce was so much nicer than on the mainland. Sourdough bakeries everywhere, good coffee, great wineries, and nearly every town has weekend markets where you can buy local. Everything is close."
Brad laments the changes: "Yes, there were delis, fruit shops, butchers and the ubiquitous milk bars in the '60s. And the proprietors were locals who knew our parents and us children by name. Now it's the super stores and the multinational franchises that inhabit every suburb. Time poor is matched by quality poor. Correlation with mental health crisis, anyone?"
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Stories should do more than scare us. They should wake us up
This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to It was another ordinary Sunday evening in November 1983 when more than 100 million Americans and many others around the world sat in the comfort of their living rooms watching the end of the world. For the next few hours they looked on in horror as humanity's worst nightmare unfolded. Children were turned to ash, cities to dust and vast regions of the planet destroyed as a series of nuclear strikes plunged civilisation into a barbaric new Stone Age. The Day After was a television movie unlike any other; its primetime depiction of the savage aftermath of nuclear warfare traumatised so many that counselling helplines were inundated. Ronald Reagan, the US president at the time, scribbled in his diary that the film left him depressed. The movie was credited with nudging him toward arms control negotiations that, a few years later, culminated in an historic nuclear reduction treaty with the USSR that helped end the Cold War. The Day After's lesson? Never underestimate the power of storytelling. We have always clung to fables, myths and parables to help us make sense of the world. It's why sober charts and statistics never quite stir the soul like the visceral emotion of believable characters trapped in unimaginable scenarios. But despite the existence of so many more existential threats now facing us - the world's nuclear stockpile is rising again, climate change grows more extreme and scientists increasingly warn of the menace of artificial intelligence and future pandemics - it's difficult to imagine any film packing the same punch these days as The Day After. We're suffering doomsday fatigue. Our nights are saturated with the end of days. Apocalyptic movies and TV series depicting dystopian futures fill our screens, social media algorithms feed us worst-case scenarios to keep us scrolling and an unrelenting 24-hour news cycle amplifies catastrophes and threats. Studies show that relentless warnings about melting ice caps, mutant viruses, economic collapse and Terminator-style machines creates society-wide emotional burnout, making us less likely to stand in the street and demand change, even when many threats are real and, like climate devastation, imminent or already with us. Let me be the first to plead guilty. After three weeks in the Arctic last year crossing melting glaciers and discovering polar bears were foraging in rubbish bins for food as their ecosystem collapses, I returned home eager to prosecute the case for change. A succession of glazed eyes and patient yawns quickly blunted that enthusiasm. Surely, though, there must be a way to reignite the same global sense of urgency that sprang out of The Day After. It's why you should watch Television Event - a brilliant documentary now streaming on SBS that revisits that Sunday evening of collective dread in 1983 when a fictional drama with lousy special effects by modern standards crawled inside the world's psyche, triggering worldwide demonstrations that piled on the pressure for nuclear disarmament. The infamous Doomsday Clock is now at its closest point ever to midnight - just 89 seconds away, according to the latest update by the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Yet our sense of alarm has never felt more muted. We can blame it on doomsday fatigue. But that's the easy way out. If charts, statistics and endless warnings of Armageddon alone won't shift us, it's time to reimagine the way we talk about these threats. Instead of more apocalyptic tales of destruction and despair, we need human stories that refuse to let us off the hook; tales that show us the lives of those on the front lines of rising seas or within reach of ballistic missiles; stories to remind us that no one is immune and that the consequences won't be confined to someone else's time zone. We need more solution-focused journalism highlighting what's working, not just what's going wrong. The social media giants need to show greater responsibility with algorithms (try not to laugh too loudly) that would help amplify a sense of progress, not just panic. And instead of focusing on the potential devastation we face, we need to relentlessly ask one basic question: what are you prepared to do about it? That Doomsday Clock is ticking. Apathy is no longer a refuge but a death sentence. If we shouldn't underestimate the power of storytelling, nor should we underestimate the power of collective action. Now, more than ever, we need stories that do more than scare us. We need stories that wake us up. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you suffer from Doomsday Fatigue or have you found an antidote? What other solutions could jolt our current apathy toward climate change and other existential threats? Do you remember when The Day After first screened in Australia and, if so, what was your reaction? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Ocean temperatures in the south-west Pacific reached fresh highs in 2024 as heatwaves struck more than 10 per cent of the world's marine waters. - Federal police should take over the investigation into the death in custody of a young Aboriginal man as a "step towards healing and justice", an Indigenous MP says. - People who want to learn more about their family's service in the Australia military will have easier access to priceless records at a new research centre at the Australian War Memorial. THEY SAID IT: "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein YOU SAID IT: When he noticed a hole in his cargo pants, John realised they had lasted longer than World War II. It was a reminder of the false economy of fast fashion. Mike owns a rarely worn 1970s suit bought in Hong Kong: "Still can't throw it out. It's not clothing anymore; more of an heirloom. Meanwhile, a velvet dress from the same era, my wife retains, still gets invited to events and still turns heads. Her dress is living its best life. My suit's still waiting for a '70s revival tour." John gets 20 years' wear out of a T-shirt by observing four cycles: "1: Only wear out socially. When I get home, I immediately take off and replace with; 2: home clothes which are good enough to go out shopping with; 3: When these clothes are no longer fit to even go to the local Bunnings store, I just wear them for yard and handyman jobs around the house; 4: When totally threadbare they are ripped up for rags." Chris, who's become a dab hand at mending so his clothes last longer, writes: "I applaud your article here on saving clothing costs while working from home because that's exactly what happens. I've worked out of home for more than 30 years and there's nothing more comfortable than having nice, clean but older and well worn clothes to wear while working." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to It was another ordinary Sunday evening in November 1983 when more than 100 million Americans and many others around the world sat in the comfort of their living rooms watching the end of the world. For the next few hours they looked on in horror as humanity's worst nightmare unfolded. Children were turned to ash, cities to dust and vast regions of the planet destroyed as a series of nuclear strikes plunged civilisation into a barbaric new Stone Age. The Day After was a television movie unlike any other; its primetime depiction of the savage aftermath of nuclear warfare traumatised so many that counselling helplines were inundated. Ronald Reagan, the US president at the time, scribbled in his diary that the film left him depressed. The movie was credited with nudging him toward arms control negotiations that, a few years later, culminated in an historic nuclear reduction treaty with the USSR that helped end the Cold War. The Day After's lesson? Never underestimate the power of storytelling. We have always clung to fables, myths and parables to help us make sense of the world. It's why sober charts and statistics never quite stir the soul like the visceral emotion of believable characters trapped in unimaginable scenarios. But despite the existence of so many more existential threats now facing us - the world's nuclear stockpile is rising again, climate change grows more extreme and scientists increasingly warn of the menace of artificial intelligence and future pandemics - it's difficult to imagine any film packing the same punch these days as The Day After. We're suffering doomsday fatigue. Our nights are saturated with the end of days. Apocalyptic movies and TV series depicting dystopian futures fill our screens, social media algorithms feed us worst-case scenarios to keep us scrolling and an unrelenting 24-hour news cycle amplifies catastrophes and threats. Studies show that relentless warnings about melting ice caps, mutant viruses, economic collapse and Terminator-style machines creates society-wide emotional burnout, making us less likely to stand in the street and demand change, even when many threats are real and, like climate devastation, imminent or already with us. Let me be the first to plead guilty. After three weeks in the Arctic last year crossing melting glaciers and discovering polar bears were foraging in rubbish bins for food as their ecosystem collapses, I returned home eager to prosecute the case for change. A succession of glazed eyes and patient yawns quickly blunted that enthusiasm. Surely, though, there must be a way to reignite the same global sense of urgency that sprang out of The Day After. It's why you should watch Television Event - a brilliant documentary now streaming on SBS that revisits that Sunday evening of collective dread in 1983 when a fictional drama with lousy special effects by modern standards crawled inside the world's psyche, triggering worldwide demonstrations that piled on the pressure for nuclear disarmament. The infamous Doomsday Clock is now at its closest point ever to midnight - just 89 seconds away, according to the latest update by the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Yet our sense of alarm has never felt more muted. We can blame it on doomsday fatigue. But that's the easy way out. If charts, statistics and endless warnings of Armageddon alone won't shift us, it's time to reimagine the way we talk about these threats. Instead of more apocalyptic tales of destruction and despair, we need human stories that refuse to let us off the hook; tales that show us the lives of those on the front lines of rising seas or within reach of ballistic missiles; stories to remind us that no one is immune and that the consequences won't be confined to someone else's time zone. We need more solution-focused journalism highlighting what's working, not just what's going wrong. The social media giants need to show greater responsibility with algorithms (try not to laugh too loudly) that would help amplify a sense of progress, not just panic. And instead of focusing on the potential devastation we face, we need to relentlessly ask one basic question: what are you prepared to do about it? That Doomsday Clock is ticking. Apathy is no longer a refuge but a death sentence. If we shouldn't underestimate the power of storytelling, nor should we underestimate the power of collective action. Now, more than ever, we need stories that do more than scare us. We need stories that wake us up. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you suffer from Doomsday Fatigue or have you found an antidote? What other solutions could jolt our current apathy toward climate change and other existential threats? Do you remember when The Day After first screened in Australia and, if so, what was your reaction? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Ocean temperatures in the south-west Pacific reached fresh highs in 2024 as heatwaves struck more than 10 per cent of the world's marine waters. - Federal police should take over the investigation into the death in custody of a young Aboriginal man as a "step towards healing and justice", an Indigenous MP says. - People who want to learn more about their family's service in the Australia military will have easier access to priceless records at a new research centre at the Australian War Memorial. THEY SAID IT: "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein YOU SAID IT: When he noticed a hole in his cargo pants, John realised they had lasted longer than World War II. It was a reminder of the false economy of fast fashion. Mike owns a rarely worn 1970s suit bought in Hong Kong: "Still can't throw it out. It's not clothing anymore; more of an heirloom. Meanwhile, a velvet dress from the same era, my wife retains, still gets invited to events and still turns heads. Her dress is living its best life. My suit's still waiting for a '70s revival tour." John gets 20 years' wear out of a T-shirt by observing four cycles: "1: Only wear out socially. When I get home, I immediately take off and replace with; 2: home clothes which are good enough to go out shopping with; 3: When these clothes are no longer fit to even go to the local Bunnings store, I just wear them for yard and handyman jobs around the house; 4: When totally threadbare they are ripped up for rags." Chris, who's become a dab hand at mending so his clothes last longer, writes: "I applaud your article here on saving clothing costs while working from home because that's exactly what happens. I've worked out of home for more than 30 years and there's nothing more comfortable than having nice, clean but older and well worn clothes to wear while working." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to It was another ordinary Sunday evening in November 1983 when more than 100 million Americans and many others around the world sat in the comfort of their living rooms watching the end of the world. For the next few hours they looked on in horror as humanity's worst nightmare unfolded. Children were turned to ash, cities to dust and vast regions of the planet destroyed as a series of nuclear strikes plunged civilisation into a barbaric new Stone Age. The Day After was a television movie unlike any other; its primetime depiction of the savage aftermath of nuclear warfare traumatised so many that counselling helplines were inundated. Ronald Reagan, the US president at the time, scribbled in his diary that the film left him depressed. The movie was credited with nudging him toward arms control negotiations that, a few years later, culminated in an historic nuclear reduction treaty with the USSR that helped end the Cold War. The Day After's lesson? Never underestimate the power of storytelling. We have always clung to fables, myths and parables to help us make sense of the world. It's why sober charts and statistics never quite stir the soul like the visceral emotion of believable characters trapped in unimaginable scenarios. But despite the existence of so many more existential threats now facing us - the world's nuclear stockpile is rising again, climate change grows more extreme and scientists increasingly warn of the menace of artificial intelligence and future pandemics - it's difficult to imagine any film packing the same punch these days as The Day After. We're suffering doomsday fatigue. Our nights are saturated with the end of days. Apocalyptic movies and TV series depicting dystopian futures fill our screens, social media algorithms feed us worst-case scenarios to keep us scrolling and an unrelenting 24-hour news cycle amplifies catastrophes and threats. Studies show that relentless warnings about melting ice caps, mutant viruses, economic collapse and Terminator-style machines creates society-wide emotional burnout, making us less likely to stand in the street and demand change, even when many threats are real and, like climate devastation, imminent or already with us. Let me be the first to plead guilty. After three weeks in the Arctic last year crossing melting glaciers and discovering polar bears were foraging in rubbish bins for food as their ecosystem collapses, I returned home eager to prosecute the case for change. A succession of glazed eyes and patient yawns quickly blunted that enthusiasm. Surely, though, there must be a way to reignite the same global sense of urgency that sprang out of The Day After. It's why you should watch Television Event - a brilliant documentary now streaming on SBS that revisits that Sunday evening of collective dread in 1983 when a fictional drama with lousy special effects by modern standards crawled inside the world's psyche, triggering worldwide demonstrations that piled on the pressure for nuclear disarmament. The infamous Doomsday Clock is now at its closest point ever to midnight - just 89 seconds away, according to the latest update by the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Yet our sense of alarm has never felt more muted. We can blame it on doomsday fatigue. But that's the easy way out. If charts, statistics and endless warnings of Armageddon alone won't shift us, it's time to reimagine the way we talk about these threats. Instead of more apocalyptic tales of destruction and despair, we need human stories that refuse to let us off the hook; tales that show us the lives of those on the front lines of rising seas or within reach of ballistic missiles; stories to remind us that no one is immune and that the consequences won't be confined to someone else's time zone. We need more solution-focused journalism highlighting what's working, not just what's going wrong. The social media giants need to show greater responsibility with algorithms (try not to laugh too loudly) that would help amplify a sense of progress, not just panic. And instead of focusing on the potential devastation we face, we need to relentlessly ask one basic question: what are you prepared to do about it? That Doomsday Clock is ticking. Apathy is no longer a refuge but a death sentence. If we shouldn't underestimate the power of storytelling, nor should we underestimate the power of collective action. Now, more than ever, we need stories that do more than scare us. We need stories that wake us up. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you suffer from Doomsday Fatigue or have you found an antidote? What other solutions could jolt our current apathy toward climate change and other existential threats? Do you remember when The Day After first screened in Australia and, if so, what was your reaction? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Ocean temperatures in the south-west Pacific reached fresh highs in 2024 as heatwaves struck more than 10 per cent of the world's marine waters. - Federal police should take over the investigation into the death in custody of a young Aboriginal man as a "step towards healing and justice", an Indigenous MP says. - People who want to learn more about their family's service in the Australia military will have easier access to priceless records at a new research centre at the Australian War Memorial. THEY SAID IT: "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein YOU SAID IT: When he noticed a hole in his cargo pants, John realised they had lasted longer than World War II. It was a reminder of the false economy of fast fashion. Mike owns a rarely worn 1970s suit bought in Hong Kong: "Still can't throw it out. It's not clothing anymore; more of an heirloom. Meanwhile, a velvet dress from the same era, my wife retains, still gets invited to events and still turns heads. Her dress is living its best life. My suit's still waiting for a '70s revival tour." John gets 20 years' wear out of a T-shirt by observing four cycles: "1: Only wear out socially. When I get home, I immediately take off and replace with; 2: home clothes which are good enough to go out shopping with; 3: When these clothes are no longer fit to even go to the local Bunnings store, I just wear them for yard and handyman jobs around the house; 4: When totally threadbare they are ripped up for rags." Chris, who's become a dab hand at mending so his clothes last longer, writes: "I applaud your article here on saving clothing costs while working from home because that's exactly what happens. I've worked out of home for more than 30 years and there's nothing more comfortable than having nice, clean but older and well worn clothes to wear while working." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to It was another ordinary Sunday evening in November 1983 when more than 100 million Americans and many others around the world sat in the comfort of their living rooms watching the end of the world. For the next few hours they looked on in horror as humanity's worst nightmare unfolded. Children were turned to ash, cities to dust and vast regions of the planet destroyed as a series of nuclear strikes plunged civilisation into a barbaric new Stone Age. The Day After was a television movie unlike any other; its primetime depiction of the savage aftermath of nuclear warfare traumatised so many that counselling helplines were inundated. Ronald Reagan, the US president at the time, scribbled in his diary that the film left him depressed. The movie was credited with nudging him toward arms control negotiations that, a few years later, culminated in an historic nuclear reduction treaty with the USSR that helped end the Cold War. The Day After's lesson? Never underestimate the power of storytelling. We have always clung to fables, myths and parables to help us make sense of the world. It's why sober charts and statistics never quite stir the soul like the visceral emotion of believable characters trapped in unimaginable scenarios. But despite the existence of so many more existential threats now facing us - the world's nuclear stockpile is rising again, climate change grows more extreme and scientists increasingly warn of the menace of artificial intelligence and future pandemics - it's difficult to imagine any film packing the same punch these days as The Day After. We're suffering doomsday fatigue. Our nights are saturated with the end of days. Apocalyptic movies and TV series depicting dystopian futures fill our screens, social media algorithms feed us worst-case scenarios to keep us scrolling and an unrelenting 24-hour news cycle amplifies catastrophes and threats. Studies show that relentless warnings about melting ice caps, mutant viruses, economic collapse and Terminator-style machines creates society-wide emotional burnout, making us less likely to stand in the street and demand change, even when many threats are real and, like climate devastation, imminent or already with us. Let me be the first to plead guilty. After three weeks in the Arctic last year crossing melting glaciers and discovering polar bears were foraging in rubbish bins for food as their ecosystem collapses, I returned home eager to prosecute the case for change. A succession of glazed eyes and patient yawns quickly blunted that enthusiasm. Surely, though, there must be a way to reignite the same global sense of urgency that sprang out of The Day After. It's why you should watch Television Event - a brilliant documentary now streaming on SBS that revisits that Sunday evening of collective dread in 1983 when a fictional drama with lousy special effects by modern standards crawled inside the world's psyche, triggering worldwide demonstrations that piled on the pressure for nuclear disarmament. The infamous Doomsday Clock is now at its closest point ever to midnight - just 89 seconds away, according to the latest update by the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Yet our sense of alarm has never felt more muted. We can blame it on doomsday fatigue. But that's the easy way out. If charts, statistics and endless warnings of Armageddon alone won't shift us, it's time to reimagine the way we talk about these threats. Instead of more apocalyptic tales of destruction and despair, we need human stories that refuse to let us off the hook; tales that show us the lives of those on the front lines of rising seas or within reach of ballistic missiles; stories to remind us that no one is immune and that the consequences won't be confined to someone else's time zone. We need more solution-focused journalism highlighting what's working, not just what's going wrong. The social media giants need to show greater responsibility with algorithms (try not to laugh too loudly) that would help amplify a sense of progress, not just panic. And instead of focusing on the potential devastation we face, we need to relentlessly ask one basic question: what are you prepared to do about it? That Doomsday Clock is ticking. Apathy is no longer a refuge but a death sentence. If we shouldn't underestimate the power of storytelling, nor should we underestimate the power of collective action. Now, more than ever, we need stories that do more than scare us. We need stories that wake us up. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you suffer from Doomsday Fatigue or have you found an antidote? What other solutions could jolt our current apathy toward climate change and other existential threats? Do you remember when The Day After first screened in Australia and, if so, what was your reaction? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Ocean temperatures in the south-west Pacific reached fresh highs in 2024 as heatwaves struck more than 10 per cent of the world's marine waters. - Federal police should take over the investigation into the death in custody of a young Aboriginal man as a "step towards healing and justice", an Indigenous MP says. - People who want to learn more about their family's service in the Australia military will have easier access to priceless records at a new research centre at the Australian War Memorial. THEY SAID IT: "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein YOU SAID IT: When he noticed a hole in his cargo pants, John realised they had lasted longer than World War II. It was a reminder of the false economy of fast fashion. Mike owns a rarely worn 1970s suit bought in Hong Kong: "Still can't throw it out. It's not clothing anymore; more of an heirloom. Meanwhile, a velvet dress from the same era, my wife retains, still gets invited to events and still turns heads. Her dress is living its best life. My suit's still waiting for a '70s revival tour." John gets 20 years' wear out of a T-shirt by observing four cycles: "1: Only wear out socially. When I get home, I immediately take off and replace with; 2: home clothes which are good enough to go out shopping with; 3: When these clothes are no longer fit to even go to the local Bunnings store, I just wear them for yard and handyman jobs around the house; 4: When totally threadbare they are ripped up for rags." Chris, who's become a dab hand at mending so his clothes last longer, writes: "I applaud your article here on saving clothing costs while working from home because that's exactly what happens. I've worked out of home for more than 30 years and there's nothing more comfortable than having nice, clean but older and well worn clothes to wear while working."
The Advertiser
2 days ago
- The Advertiser
There's history in that old pair of cargo pants
This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to The small hole on the seam gave pause. I realised this faithful pair of cargo pants had lasted longer than World War II. Their roomy pockets carried the daily essentials. Phone, wallet, glasses, notebook and pen were all accommodated. Even the tiny drone for sneaky aerial snapshots. I've lived in them for years, through overseas adventures and chores in the garden, through fire and flood. And, once that hole is patched, I'll live in them for a few more. They're the polar opposite of fast fashion. Indeed, they're not fashionable at all. But for practicality and durability, they can't be beaten. They weren't cheap but their longevity confirms the old adage that you get what you pay for. They also point to the false economy that is fast fashion. Clothing waste is a global issue. In Australia alone, we produce about 300,000 tonnes of it each year. Some is recycled, some is exported but a lot of it ends up in landfill. The fashion industry is responsible for about 10 per cent of the microplastics which end up in our oceans. It accounts for about 20 per cent of the world's wastewater. estimates the water required to make one T-shirt in enough to slake one person's thirst for 900 days. In Chile's Atacama Desert, the mountain of discarded clothing is so huge, it's visible from space. A lot of it comes from the US, where it's estimated a garment is worn only seven to 10 times on average before it's discarded. That's a reduction in, say, a shirt's lifespan of 35 per cent in 15 years. Stumbling on this information reminded me of a face-palm moment in the newsroom some years ago. A young reporter was agonising over what to wear to an upcoming social event. "Didn't you buy a new dress a couple of weeks ago?" I asked her. "Oh, I couldn't possibly wear that," she replied. "I've already socialled it." A handful of Instagram likes and the frock was made redundant. A riffle through my wardrobe revealed a snapshot of recent history. Gone were the pre-COVID business shirts and ties, the suits and the shiny shoes - thanks to working from home, the corporate armour is now superfluous. In their place, a colourful collection of Hawaiian shirts, shorts and one linen suit bought on a whim from a tailor in Thailand for summer. Sweaters and coats for winter. And cargo pants. Apart from the Hawaiian shirts, which get a couple of workouts a year in Asia, and a toasty warm, safety yellow parka bought for me as a present, every item is getting on and yet I feel no compulsion to replace them. Not even the same type of cargo pants as the old trusties, recently offered at a discount, could sway me. Vowing instead to patch the hole, I realised I've embraced slow fashion. And that's liberating. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you have a favourite item of clothing you've worn for years? Is quality more important than price? As you've grown older, have you changed your clothes burying habits? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - A man has been taken into custody as part of an investigation into the whereabouts of missing teenager Pheobe Bishop, almost three weeks after her "suspicious" disappearance. - Independent Nicolette Boele has claimed the last remaining seat of the federal election after winning a closely fought recount for the Sydney electorate of Bradfield. - A shaky public spending handover has stalled Australia's post-COVID-19 recovery, with economic growth slowing to 0.2 per cent in the first three months of the year. THEY SAID IT: "Buy less. Choose well. Make it last. Quality, not quantity. Everybody's buying far too many clothes." - Vivienne Westwood YOU SAID IT: The best winter escape, wrote John, is a pile of good books. Grant has some kind words: "I don't know if you're writing the Great Australian Novel but your beautiful and evocative account of the joys of winter indicates you should! Your respectful use of our language is appreciated, and should be shared on a broader canvas." Jan is reading Flinders by Grantlee Kieza, about the exploits of Matthew Flinders. She, too, has noticed winter changing: "Winter is rapidly becoming all too brief as the years go by. I love the reprieve from the stifling, relentless and parching heat of summer and the (albeit diminishing) promise of snow in the mountains not too far away. In 2024, we had four weeks of barely usable snow cover instead of the traditional four months of a decade or more ago." Ancient Rome has Ros captivated. Like John, she is engrossed in a Tom Holland history, Rubicon, about the decline of the Roman republic: "It is chilling indeed to see the clear parallels between the dying days of the Roman Republic and what is happening in a contemporary Republic with worldwide influence and impact." Ian reads all year round, for at least an hour a day. "At the moment, I'm halfway through Mawson by Peter FitzSimons. A beautifully written and rollicking yarn, it is best appreciated being read in the middle of a Canberra winter with the heating turned off and all the windows open." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to The small hole on the seam gave pause. I realised this faithful pair of cargo pants had lasted longer than World War II. Their roomy pockets carried the daily essentials. Phone, wallet, glasses, notebook and pen were all accommodated. Even the tiny drone for sneaky aerial snapshots. I've lived in them for years, through overseas adventures and chores in the garden, through fire and flood. And, once that hole is patched, I'll live in them for a few more. They're the polar opposite of fast fashion. Indeed, they're not fashionable at all. But for practicality and durability, they can't be beaten. They weren't cheap but their longevity confirms the old adage that you get what you pay for. They also point to the false economy that is fast fashion. Clothing waste is a global issue. In Australia alone, we produce about 300,000 tonnes of it each year. Some is recycled, some is exported but a lot of it ends up in landfill. The fashion industry is responsible for about 10 per cent of the microplastics which end up in our oceans. It accounts for about 20 per cent of the world's wastewater. estimates the water required to make one T-shirt in enough to slake one person's thirst for 900 days. In Chile's Atacama Desert, the mountain of discarded clothing is so huge, it's visible from space. A lot of it comes from the US, where it's estimated a garment is worn only seven to 10 times on average before it's discarded. That's a reduction in, say, a shirt's lifespan of 35 per cent in 15 years. Stumbling on this information reminded me of a face-palm moment in the newsroom some years ago. A young reporter was agonising over what to wear to an upcoming social event. "Didn't you buy a new dress a couple of weeks ago?" I asked her. "Oh, I couldn't possibly wear that," she replied. "I've already socialled it." A handful of Instagram likes and the frock was made redundant. A riffle through my wardrobe revealed a snapshot of recent history. Gone were the pre-COVID business shirts and ties, the suits and the shiny shoes - thanks to working from home, the corporate armour is now superfluous. In their place, a colourful collection of Hawaiian shirts, shorts and one linen suit bought on a whim from a tailor in Thailand for summer. Sweaters and coats for winter. And cargo pants. Apart from the Hawaiian shirts, which get a couple of workouts a year in Asia, and a toasty warm, safety yellow parka bought for me as a present, every item is getting on and yet I feel no compulsion to replace them. Not even the same type of cargo pants as the old trusties, recently offered at a discount, could sway me. Vowing instead to patch the hole, I realised I've embraced slow fashion. And that's liberating. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you have a favourite item of clothing you've worn for years? Is quality more important than price? As you've grown older, have you changed your clothes burying habits? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - A man has been taken into custody as part of an investigation into the whereabouts of missing teenager Pheobe Bishop, almost three weeks after her "suspicious" disappearance. - Independent Nicolette Boele has claimed the last remaining seat of the federal election after winning a closely fought recount for the Sydney electorate of Bradfield. - A shaky public spending handover has stalled Australia's post-COVID-19 recovery, with economic growth slowing to 0.2 per cent in the first three months of the year. THEY SAID IT: "Buy less. Choose well. Make it last. Quality, not quantity. Everybody's buying far too many clothes." - Vivienne Westwood YOU SAID IT: The best winter escape, wrote John, is a pile of good books. Grant has some kind words: "I don't know if you're writing the Great Australian Novel but your beautiful and evocative account of the joys of winter indicates you should! Your respectful use of our language is appreciated, and should be shared on a broader canvas." Jan is reading Flinders by Grantlee Kieza, about the exploits of Matthew Flinders. She, too, has noticed winter changing: "Winter is rapidly becoming all too brief as the years go by. I love the reprieve from the stifling, relentless and parching heat of summer and the (albeit diminishing) promise of snow in the mountains not too far away. In 2024, we had four weeks of barely usable snow cover instead of the traditional four months of a decade or more ago." Ancient Rome has Ros captivated. Like John, she is engrossed in a Tom Holland history, Rubicon, about the decline of the Roman republic: "It is chilling indeed to see the clear parallels between the dying days of the Roman Republic and what is happening in a contemporary Republic with worldwide influence and impact." Ian reads all year round, for at least an hour a day. "At the moment, I'm halfway through Mawson by Peter FitzSimons. A beautifully written and rollicking yarn, it is best appreciated being read in the middle of a Canberra winter with the heating turned off and all the windows open." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to The small hole on the seam gave pause. I realised this faithful pair of cargo pants had lasted longer than World War II. Their roomy pockets carried the daily essentials. Phone, wallet, glasses, notebook and pen were all accommodated. Even the tiny drone for sneaky aerial snapshots. I've lived in them for years, through overseas adventures and chores in the garden, through fire and flood. And, once that hole is patched, I'll live in them for a few more. They're the polar opposite of fast fashion. Indeed, they're not fashionable at all. But for practicality and durability, they can't be beaten. They weren't cheap but their longevity confirms the old adage that you get what you pay for. They also point to the false economy that is fast fashion. Clothing waste is a global issue. In Australia alone, we produce about 300,000 tonnes of it each year. Some is recycled, some is exported but a lot of it ends up in landfill. The fashion industry is responsible for about 10 per cent of the microplastics which end up in our oceans. It accounts for about 20 per cent of the world's wastewater. estimates the water required to make one T-shirt in enough to slake one person's thirst for 900 days. In Chile's Atacama Desert, the mountain of discarded clothing is so huge, it's visible from space. A lot of it comes from the US, where it's estimated a garment is worn only seven to 10 times on average before it's discarded. That's a reduction in, say, a shirt's lifespan of 35 per cent in 15 years. Stumbling on this information reminded me of a face-palm moment in the newsroom some years ago. A young reporter was agonising over what to wear to an upcoming social event. "Didn't you buy a new dress a couple of weeks ago?" I asked her. "Oh, I couldn't possibly wear that," she replied. "I've already socialled it." A handful of Instagram likes and the frock was made redundant. A riffle through my wardrobe revealed a snapshot of recent history. Gone were the pre-COVID business shirts and ties, the suits and the shiny shoes - thanks to working from home, the corporate armour is now superfluous. In their place, a colourful collection of Hawaiian shirts, shorts and one linen suit bought on a whim from a tailor in Thailand for summer. Sweaters and coats for winter. And cargo pants. Apart from the Hawaiian shirts, which get a couple of workouts a year in Asia, and a toasty warm, safety yellow parka bought for me as a present, every item is getting on and yet I feel no compulsion to replace them. Not even the same type of cargo pants as the old trusties, recently offered at a discount, could sway me. Vowing instead to patch the hole, I realised I've embraced slow fashion. And that's liberating. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you have a favourite item of clothing you've worn for years? Is quality more important than price? As you've grown older, have you changed your clothes burying habits? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - A man has been taken into custody as part of an investigation into the whereabouts of missing teenager Pheobe Bishop, almost three weeks after her "suspicious" disappearance. - Independent Nicolette Boele has claimed the last remaining seat of the federal election after winning a closely fought recount for the Sydney electorate of Bradfield. - A shaky public spending handover has stalled Australia's post-COVID-19 recovery, with economic growth slowing to 0.2 per cent in the first three months of the year. THEY SAID IT: "Buy less. Choose well. Make it last. Quality, not quantity. Everybody's buying far too many clothes." - Vivienne Westwood YOU SAID IT: The best winter escape, wrote John, is a pile of good books. Grant has some kind words: "I don't know if you're writing the Great Australian Novel but your beautiful and evocative account of the joys of winter indicates you should! Your respectful use of our language is appreciated, and should be shared on a broader canvas." Jan is reading Flinders by Grantlee Kieza, about the exploits of Matthew Flinders. She, too, has noticed winter changing: "Winter is rapidly becoming all too brief as the years go by. I love the reprieve from the stifling, relentless and parching heat of summer and the (albeit diminishing) promise of snow in the mountains not too far away. In 2024, we had four weeks of barely usable snow cover instead of the traditional four months of a decade or more ago." Ancient Rome has Ros captivated. Like John, she is engrossed in a Tom Holland history, Rubicon, about the decline of the Roman republic: "It is chilling indeed to see the clear parallels between the dying days of the Roman Republic and what is happening in a contemporary Republic with worldwide influence and impact." Ian reads all year round, for at least an hour a day. "At the moment, I'm halfway through Mawson by Peter FitzSimons. A beautifully written and rollicking yarn, it is best appreciated being read in the middle of a Canberra winter with the heating turned off and all the windows open." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to The small hole on the seam gave pause. I realised this faithful pair of cargo pants had lasted longer than World War II. Their roomy pockets carried the daily essentials. Phone, wallet, glasses, notebook and pen were all accommodated. Even the tiny drone for sneaky aerial snapshots. I've lived in them for years, through overseas adventures and chores in the garden, through fire and flood. And, once that hole is patched, I'll live in them for a few more. They're the polar opposite of fast fashion. Indeed, they're not fashionable at all. But for practicality and durability, they can't be beaten. They weren't cheap but their longevity confirms the old adage that you get what you pay for. They also point to the false economy that is fast fashion. Clothing waste is a global issue. In Australia alone, we produce about 300,000 tonnes of it each year. Some is recycled, some is exported but a lot of it ends up in landfill. The fashion industry is responsible for about 10 per cent of the microplastics which end up in our oceans. It accounts for about 20 per cent of the world's wastewater. estimates the water required to make one T-shirt in enough to slake one person's thirst for 900 days. In Chile's Atacama Desert, the mountain of discarded clothing is so huge, it's visible from space. A lot of it comes from the US, where it's estimated a garment is worn only seven to 10 times on average before it's discarded. That's a reduction in, say, a shirt's lifespan of 35 per cent in 15 years. Stumbling on this information reminded me of a face-palm moment in the newsroom some years ago. A young reporter was agonising over what to wear to an upcoming social event. "Didn't you buy a new dress a couple of weeks ago?" I asked her. "Oh, I couldn't possibly wear that," she replied. "I've already socialled it." A handful of Instagram likes and the frock was made redundant. A riffle through my wardrobe revealed a snapshot of recent history. Gone were the pre-COVID business shirts and ties, the suits and the shiny shoes - thanks to working from home, the corporate armour is now superfluous. In their place, a colourful collection of Hawaiian shirts, shorts and one linen suit bought on a whim from a tailor in Thailand for summer. Sweaters and coats for winter. And cargo pants. Apart from the Hawaiian shirts, which get a couple of workouts a year in Asia, and a toasty warm, safety yellow parka bought for me as a present, every item is getting on and yet I feel no compulsion to replace them. Not even the same type of cargo pants as the old trusties, recently offered at a discount, could sway me. Vowing instead to patch the hole, I realised I've embraced slow fashion. And that's liberating. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you have a favourite item of clothing you've worn for years? Is quality more important than price? As you've grown older, have you changed your clothes burying habits? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - A man has been taken into custody as part of an investigation into the whereabouts of missing teenager Pheobe Bishop, almost three weeks after her "suspicious" disappearance. - Independent Nicolette Boele has claimed the last remaining seat of the federal election after winning a closely fought recount for the Sydney electorate of Bradfield. - A shaky public spending handover has stalled Australia's post-COVID-19 recovery, with economic growth slowing to 0.2 per cent in the first three months of the year. THEY SAID IT: "Buy less. Choose well. Make it last. Quality, not quantity. Everybody's buying far too many clothes." - Vivienne Westwood YOU SAID IT: The best winter escape, wrote John, is a pile of good books. Grant has some kind words: "I don't know if you're writing the Great Australian Novel but your beautiful and evocative account of the joys of winter indicates you should! Your respectful use of our language is appreciated, and should be shared on a broader canvas." Jan is reading Flinders by Grantlee Kieza, about the exploits of Matthew Flinders. She, too, has noticed winter changing: "Winter is rapidly becoming all too brief as the years go by. I love the reprieve from the stifling, relentless and parching heat of summer and the (albeit diminishing) promise of snow in the mountains not too far away. In 2024, we had four weeks of barely usable snow cover instead of the traditional four months of a decade or more ago." Ancient Rome has Ros captivated. Like John, she is engrossed in a Tom Holland history, Rubicon, about the decline of the Roman republic: "It is chilling indeed to see the clear parallels between the dying days of the Roman Republic and what is happening in a contemporary Republic with worldwide influence and impact." Ian reads all year round, for at least an hour a day. "At the moment, I'm halfway through Mawson by Peter FitzSimons. A beautifully written and rollicking yarn, it is best appreciated being read in the middle of a Canberra winter with the heating turned off and all the windows open."
The Advertiser
3 days ago
- The Advertiser
The best winter escape is a pile of fresh books
This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to The sun's early departure behind the escarpment used to fuel resentment. Any warmth turned quickly to chill. Muscles tightened, bones ached as night closed in after 4.30pm. I felt cheated. Winter, you always seemed mean, a bitter interlude between autumn's colourful glory and spring's message of hope and renewal. But you're changing. As each year passes, you grow milder. The frosts that once settled regularly have become rare, at least in this coastal hinterland. The skies of unrelenting grey are now more likely cobalt. And less than a week in and I can already count the sleeps until the days grow longer and you begin your return to the northern hemisphere, where I've always thought you belong. This year, I've resolved to seek out your charms and make the most of them. You see, I'm changing too. During the day, when you grace us with clear skies, I'll snatch a few minutes here, a few there, in that patch of sun that makes its way under the deck. Warmth in winter is precious, more so when delivered naturally by sunlight. It lifts the spirits and by helping the body to produce vitamin D boosts the health of muscles and bones. Not too much; a total of three hours per week will do. I'll find enrichment in your long nights, too, and not just with the hearty food the season demands - the soups; the pasta; the long, slow roasts. Winter is the season for reading and this year's headstart in autumn has me immersed in ancient Rome and Egypt. Mary Beard and Tom Holland have introduced me to the scandalous lives of the Roman emperors, opening my ears to the echoes now sounding in world affairs. Caligula, I see you in the White House! Guy de la Bedoyere is peeling back the mysteries of Tutankhamun's dynasty, revealing as he goes the immense difficulty faced by Egyptologists as they try to make sense of the ancient civilisation. After that, Islam Issa's history of Alexandria awaits. Only self-discipline prevents me from leap-frogging to it. The promise of losing myself in these fascinating stories bestows appeal on the long winter nights. I've even come to welcome them. As the house creaks and shudders in the cold, these histories transport me. They're inexpensive escapes into worlds unknown. So, winter, while you have me in your grip, I intend to make the most of it. The pile of books by the armchair will grow. So, too, the pile on the bedside table which already threatens to topple over. Not for me whiling away the nights in passive entrapment to the TV. Far better the adventures of the mind, which spring from the pages of books. As I write this, the shadows outside lengthen. The sun dips towards the escarpment. My thoughts turn to ancient Egypt and the evening's journey which lies ahead. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you read more in winter? Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction? What book are reading now? Besides time to read, what are winter's other redeeming features? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Minimum wage earners will take home an extra $32 a week in pay after the industrial umpire handed nearly three million low-paid workers a wage rise above inflation. - The Greens are facing their "most serious test" as a party following the defection of a senator to Labor after a poor federal election result. - Minutes from the last Reserve Bank board meeting reveal why they came close to an unusually large cut, as the bank's chief economist outlines how they think Donald Trump's tariffs could hit the domestic economy. THEY SAID IT: "A home without books is a body without soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero YOU SAID IT: A chat with Giuseppe and a delicious panini show that food shopping need not be joyless chore. Murray, who grew up in Christchurch in the 1960s, remembers his delight at the variety of food he found in local delicatessens when he moved to Australia. "It was a revelation. Over the last 20 years food shopping has gone a full circle. Everything is pre-packaged for your convenience. And to remove any sensory enjoyment whatsoever. It's all so dreary." All is not lost, writes Paul, who recently spent 10 weeks in Tasmania. "People were generally a lot friendlier, always having the time to chat. Overall, the produce was so much nicer than on the mainland. Sourdough bakeries everywhere, good coffee, great wineries, and nearly every town has weekend markets where you can buy local. Everything is close." Brad laments the changes: "Yes, there were delis, fruit shops, butchers and the ubiquitous milk bars in the '60s. And the proprietors were locals who knew our parents and us children by name. Now it's the super stores and the multinational franchises that inhabit every suburb. Time poor is matched by quality poor. Correlation with mental health crisis, anyone?" This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to The sun's early departure behind the escarpment used to fuel resentment. Any warmth turned quickly to chill. Muscles tightened, bones ached as night closed in after 4.30pm. I felt cheated. Winter, you always seemed mean, a bitter interlude between autumn's colourful glory and spring's message of hope and renewal. But you're changing. As each year passes, you grow milder. The frosts that once settled regularly have become rare, at least in this coastal hinterland. The skies of unrelenting grey are now more likely cobalt. And less than a week in and I can already count the sleeps until the days grow longer and you begin your return to the northern hemisphere, where I've always thought you belong. This year, I've resolved to seek out your charms and make the most of them. You see, I'm changing too. During the day, when you grace us with clear skies, I'll snatch a few minutes here, a few there, in that patch of sun that makes its way under the deck. Warmth in winter is precious, more so when delivered naturally by sunlight. It lifts the spirits and by helping the body to produce vitamin D boosts the health of muscles and bones. Not too much; a total of three hours per week will do. I'll find enrichment in your long nights, too, and not just with the hearty food the season demands - the soups; the pasta; the long, slow roasts. Winter is the season for reading and this year's headstart in autumn has me immersed in ancient Rome and Egypt. Mary Beard and Tom Holland have introduced me to the scandalous lives of the Roman emperors, opening my ears to the echoes now sounding in world affairs. Caligula, I see you in the White House! Guy de la Bedoyere is peeling back the mysteries of Tutankhamun's dynasty, revealing as he goes the immense difficulty faced by Egyptologists as they try to make sense of the ancient civilisation. After that, Islam Issa's history of Alexandria awaits. Only self-discipline prevents me from leap-frogging to it. The promise of losing myself in these fascinating stories bestows appeal on the long winter nights. I've even come to welcome them. As the house creaks and shudders in the cold, these histories transport me. They're inexpensive escapes into worlds unknown. So, winter, while you have me in your grip, I intend to make the most of it. The pile of books by the armchair will grow. So, too, the pile on the bedside table which already threatens to topple over. Not for me whiling away the nights in passive entrapment to the TV. Far better the adventures of the mind, which spring from the pages of books. As I write this, the shadows outside lengthen. The sun dips towards the escarpment. My thoughts turn to ancient Egypt and the evening's journey which lies ahead. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you read more in winter? Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction? What book are reading now? Besides time to read, what are winter's other redeeming features? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Minimum wage earners will take home an extra $32 a week in pay after the industrial umpire handed nearly three million low-paid workers a wage rise above inflation. - The Greens are facing their "most serious test" as a party following the defection of a senator to Labor after a poor federal election result. - Minutes from the last Reserve Bank board meeting reveal why they came close to an unusually large cut, as the bank's chief economist outlines how they think Donald Trump's tariffs could hit the domestic economy. THEY SAID IT: "A home without books is a body without soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero YOU SAID IT: A chat with Giuseppe and a delicious panini show that food shopping need not be joyless chore. Murray, who grew up in Christchurch in the 1960s, remembers his delight at the variety of food he found in local delicatessens when he moved to Australia. "It was a revelation. Over the last 20 years food shopping has gone a full circle. Everything is pre-packaged for your convenience. And to remove any sensory enjoyment whatsoever. It's all so dreary." All is not lost, writes Paul, who recently spent 10 weeks in Tasmania. "People were generally a lot friendlier, always having the time to chat. Overall, the produce was so much nicer than on the mainland. Sourdough bakeries everywhere, good coffee, great wineries, and nearly every town has weekend markets where you can buy local. Everything is close." Brad laments the changes: "Yes, there were delis, fruit shops, butchers and the ubiquitous milk bars in the '60s. And the proprietors were locals who knew our parents and us children by name. Now it's the super stores and the multinational franchises that inhabit every suburb. Time poor is matched by quality poor. Correlation with mental health crisis, anyone?" This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to The sun's early departure behind the escarpment used to fuel resentment. Any warmth turned quickly to chill. Muscles tightened, bones ached as night closed in after 4.30pm. I felt cheated. Winter, you always seemed mean, a bitter interlude between autumn's colourful glory and spring's message of hope and renewal. But you're changing. As each year passes, you grow milder. The frosts that once settled regularly have become rare, at least in this coastal hinterland. The skies of unrelenting grey are now more likely cobalt. And less than a week in and I can already count the sleeps until the days grow longer and you begin your return to the northern hemisphere, where I've always thought you belong. This year, I've resolved to seek out your charms and make the most of them. You see, I'm changing too. During the day, when you grace us with clear skies, I'll snatch a few minutes here, a few there, in that patch of sun that makes its way under the deck. Warmth in winter is precious, more so when delivered naturally by sunlight. It lifts the spirits and by helping the body to produce vitamin D boosts the health of muscles and bones. Not too much; a total of three hours per week will do. I'll find enrichment in your long nights, too, and not just with the hearty food the season demands - the soups; the pasta; the long, slow roasts. Winter is the season for reading and this year's headstart in autumn has me immersed in ancient Rome and Egypt. Mary Beard and Tom Holland have introduced me to the scandalous lives of the Roman emperors, opening my ears to the echoes now sounding in world affairs. Caligula, I see you in the White House! Guy de la Bedoyere is peeling back the mysteries of Tutankhamun's dynasty, revealing as he goes the immense difficulty faced by Egyptologists as they try to make sense of the ancient civilisation. After that, Islam Issa's history of Alexandria awaits. Only self-discipline prevents me from leap-frogging to it. The promise of losing myself in these fascinating stories bestows appeal on the long winter nights. I've even come to welcome them. As the house creaks and shudders in the cold, these histories transport me. They're inexpensive escapes into worlds unknown. So, winter, while you have me in your grip, I intend to make the most of it. The pile of books by the armchair will grow. So, too, the pile on the bedside table which already threatens to topple over. Not for me whiling away the nights in passive entrapment to the TV. Far better the adventures of the mind, which spring from the pages of books. As I write this, the shadows outside lengthen. The sun dips towards the escarpment. My thoughts turn to ancient Egypt and the evening's journey which lies ahead. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you read more in winter? Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction? What book are reading now? Besides time to read, what are winter's other redeeming features? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Minimum wage earners will take home an extra $32 a week in pay after the industrial umpire handed nearly three million low-paid workers a wage rise above inflation. - The Greens are facing their "most serious test" as a party following the defection of a senator to Labor after a poor federal election result. - Minutes from the last Reserve Bank board meeting reveal why they came close to an unusually large cut, as the bank's chief economist outlines how they think Donald Trump's tariffs could hit the domestic economy. THEY SAID IT: "A home without books is a body without soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero YOU SAID IT: A chat with Giuseppe and a delicious panini show that food shopping need not be joyless chore. Murray, who grew up in Christchurch in the 1960s, remembers his delight at the variety of food he found in local delicatessens when he moved to Australia. "It was a revelation. Over the last 20 years food shopping has gone a full circle. Everything is pre-packaged for your convenience. And to remove any sensory enjoyment whatsoever. It's all so dreary." All is not lost, writes Paul, who recently spent 10 weeks in Tasmania. "People were generally a lot friendlier, always having the time to chat. Overall, the produce was so much nicer than on the mainland. Sourdough bakeries everywhere, good coffee, great wineries, and nearly every town has weekend markets where you can buy local. Everything is close." Brad laments the changes: "Yes, there were delis, fruit shops, butchers and the ubiquitous milk bars in the '60s. And the proprietors were locals who knew our parents and us children by name. Now it's the super stores and the multinational franchises that inhabit every suburb. Time poor is matched by quality poor. Correlation with mental health crisis, anyone?" This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to The sun's early departure behind the escarpment used to fuel resentment. Any warmth turned quickly to chill. Muscles tightened, bones ached as night closed in after 4.30pm. I felt cheated. Winter, you always seemed mean, a bitter interlude between autumn's colourful glory and spring's message of hope and renewal. But you're changing. As each year passes, you grow milder. The frosts that once settled regularly have become rare, at least in this coastal hinterland. The skies of unrelenting grey are now more likely cobalt. And less than a week in and I can already count the sleeps until the days grow longer and you begin your return to the northern hemisphere, where I've always thought you belong. This year, I've resolved to seek out your charms and make the most of them. You see, I'm changing too. During the day, when you grace us with clear skies, I'll snatch a few minutes here, a few there, in that patch of sun that makes its way under the deck. Warmth in winter is precious, more so when delivered naturally by sunlight. It lifts the spirits and by helping the body to produce vitamin D boosts the health of muscles and bones. Not too much; a total of three hours per week will do. I'll find enrichment in your long nights, too, and not just with the hearty food the season demands - the soups; the pasta; the long, slow roasts. Winter is the season for reading and this year's headstart in autumn has me immersed in ancient Rome and Egypt. Mary Beard and Tom Holland have introduced me to the scandalous lives of the Roman emperors, opening my ears to the echoes now sounding in world affairs. Caligula, I see you in the White House! Guy de la Bedoyere is peeling back the mysteries of Tutankhamun's dynasty, revealing as he goes the immense difficulty faced by Egyptologists as they try to make sense of the ancient civilisation. After that, Islam Issa's history of Alexandria awaits. Only self-discipline prevents me from leap-frogging to it. The promise of losing myself in these fascinating stories bestows appeal on the long winter nights. I've even come to welcome them. As the house creaks and shudders in the cold, these histories transport me. They're inexpensive escapes into worlds unknown. So, winter, while you have me in your grip, I intend to make the most of it. The pile of books by the armchair will grow. So, too, the pile on the bedside table which already threatens to topple over. Not for me whiling away the nights in passive entrapment to the TV. Far better the adventures of the mind, which spring from the pages of books. As I write this, the shadows outside lengthen. The sun dips towards the escarpment. My thoughts turn to ancient Egypt and the evening's journey which lies ahead. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you read more in winter? Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction? What book are reading now? Besides time to read, what are winter's other redeeming features? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Minimum wage earners will take home an extra $32 a week in pay after the industrial umpire handed nearly three million low-paid workers a wage rise above inflation. - The Greens are facing their "most serious test" as a party following the defection of a senator to Labor after a poor federal election result. - Minutes from the last Reserve Bank board meeting reveal why they came close to an unusually large cut, as the bank's chief economist outlines how they think Donald Trump's tariffs could hit the domestic economy. THEY SAID IT: "A home without books is a body without soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero YOU SAID IT: A chat with Giuseppe and a delicious panini show that food shopping need not be joyless chore. Murray, who grew up in Christchurch in the 1960s, remembers his delight at the variety of food he found in local delicatessens when he moved to Australia. "It was a revelation. Over the last 20 years food shopping has gone a full circle. Everything is pre-packaged for your convenience. And to remove any sensory enjoyment whatsoever. It's all so dreary." All is not lost, writes Paul, who recently spent 10 weeks in Tasmania. "People were generally a lot friendlier, always having the time to chat. Overall, the produce was so much nicer than on the mainland. Sourdough bakeries everywhere, good coffee, great wineries, and nearly every town has weekend markets where you can buy local. Everything is close." Brad laments the changes: "Yes, there were delis, fruit shops, butchers and the ubiquitous milk bars in the '60s. And the proprietors were locals who knew our parents and us children by name. Now it's the super stores and the multinational franchises that inhabit every suburb. Time poor is matched by quality poor. Correlation with mental health crisis, anyone?"
