Bmag Nov 6th 2012 - Slow news day, neighbourly wifi names

If there’s one expression I wish the 1990s ABC TV show Frontline had not taught people, it’s “Slow News Day”. Research tells us people want light and shade in their news reporting, not just serious analysis or world politics, yet you spend just two minutes on radio discussing a fun topic like the direction people like to cut their sandwiches (I prefer mine triangular, my wife likes hers in rectangles) and someone will pipe up with: “Slow News Day?”

I’ve kept quiet about this until now. I understand that some people want deadly serious topics all day, every day; others, incidentally, demand more good-news stories from the media, so you can never please everyone all the time! But something happened that has caused me to break my silence! Discussing road safety last week, I asked listeners to remind me which way you should look when crossing the road (was it left-rightleft or right-left-right?). That was enough to see Petros tweeting “Slow News Day?”

Well no, Petros, it’s very simple. I didn’t want anyone, especially children, getting the wrong information and putting themselves in danger. So you can put away your convenient threeword cover-all media critique. And just in case you’re wondering, in Australia you should look right, then left, then right again.

Rental register feedback

In the last issue of bmag I asked you what you thought of a register for rental properties and their agents. The suggestion was made by 612 listener Steve who had an issue with overhanging branches from the rental property next door. Unable to find out from the tenants, Steve struggled to identify the property manager to discuss chopping back the trees.

In response, Alicia Wright emailed: “I couldn’t help but feel sometimes renters get a bad rap. We’ve had plenty of neighbour problems in the past but the main offenders were people who owned houses in the street. Who do you complain to when the problem is the owner?” I want to be clear about this. I wasn’t having a go at renters and I don’t think Steve was either. It’s just that sometimes – when it’s about trees, fences, development applications and the like – you need to contact the owner or their agent.

Matt Troughton offered a tenant’s perspective: “We rent and had a neighbour complain directly to our agent about our dog barking. The agent would give us no info, no times or dates, due to ‘privacy issues’. It would have been easier to solve the issue if [the complainant] had come straight to us!”

Don’t steal my internet

Still on the subject of neighbours, I hear the latest way to send a passive-aggressive shot over the fence is to hide messages in the name of your wireless internet network. Some people never allocate a name but it can be handy if you have several networks within your home, perhaps one for guests and one for your family.

Technology commentator Peter Black mentioned the phenomenon on my radio show, citing overseas examples like “Stop Stealing My Paper” and “Your Music is Too Loud”, but it took very little prompting to gather similar WiFi names from around Brisbane.

Emma Gunders told me: “We’ve got ‘Don’t Steal My Internet’ somewhere around us. We think it might be the new people across the road.” In Sam Eeles’s street there’s “Get Your Own WiFi”. And Ian Harper’s computer picks up the very pointed “B*gger off”.

Thankfully, from what I can gather, many of the creative WiFi monikers in Brisbane are merely aimed at soliciting a laugh. Around Guy Law’s place, there’s “Your Mum” and “Free Willy”, Jen Hansen picks up the groanworthy “PEN15”, Alexandra Nash’s neighbours have “Boobies (.)(.)”,

Cath Allen says there’s “Surveillance Van 4” somewhere near her and Sarah Margrath’s devices pick up “Where are my pants?”

James Kennedy is someone who has a message hidden in his WiFi name. He told me: “Spencer, the kids named my network ‘Furious Dad’. As a result the neighbours are very well behaved! LOL.”

And Susan Hetherington recalls: “Ours used to be called VirusVault. The IT man who set it up said it would deter people.” Okay, I know you want to do it. Go ahead, put the magazine down for a moment and see what WiFi names your phone or tablet can pick up where you are right now!

Bmag 23rd Oct 2012 - Rental owner register

Fences, trees and noise – these are the big three when it comes to disputes between neighbours. In an ideal world you are on good terms with the folk next door, you casually mention the issue and you come to some sort of agreement. But things can become complicated if your neighbour is a tenant, rather than an owner-occupier.

When 612 Breakfast listener Steve had a problem with overhanging trees from the rental property next door, he had a terrible time identifying the real estate agent managing the property. Steve told me he couldn’t get the information from his neighbours and ended up having to track down the owner, who put him onto the property manager. “They said ‘you shouldn’t have contacted the owner, your first point of contact should always be the manager’ but you can’t find out who the manager is!” Steve recalls.

The whole kerfuffle prompted Steve to email me, suggesting there should be a register of rental properties and their property managers. Says Steve: “If you live next door to really nice people, you jump the fence and say ‘Hey Bill, we need to do something about the trees, can you give me the phone number of the real estate manager?’” But Steve’s neighbours were not so cooperative: “Absolutely not and I bet there are a lot of people in Brisbane and surrounding suburbs who are in the same situation,” he says.

I invited Steve onto my radio show and here are just some of the responses that came in during and after the program: Naomi emailed: “I think the rental register is a great idea. Our former tenant had a drug lab. Luckily the owner of an adjoining unit contacted the building managers who contacted our agent. It would have been much easier if they could have gone straight to a register.”

Anne tweeted that a register would have been handy for her: “Had a problem with noisy neighbours once (renters) and ended up ringing all the local real estate agents to find the property manager.” And Fiona texted: “I totally support the register! If there’s something wrong with my house, I want and need the property manager to know ASAP!”

But, according to Cameron on Twitter, it shouldn’t be that hard: “Any real estate agent can look up a property to see which real estate is managing the property. Walk in and ask.” Tell me what you think at the email below.

Antonia Mercorella, general counsel with the Real Estate Institute of Queensland, sees merit in the idea: “Something like that could be a good idea. It would just be a matter of how that register is developed, where it’s maintained and who maintains it. “Certainly the act that covers residency tenancies in Queensland is administered by the Residential Tenancies Authority. The conduct of real estate agents is governed by the Property Agents and Motor Dealers’ Act and that’s looked after by the Office of Fair Trading. “My gut feel is that a register of this nature would be maintained by one of those two parties.”

But is a register really needed? And who would pay for it? Antonia Mercorella concedes it’s not an issue that comes up frequently: “In most instances, the tenant will disclose that they are renting and then go one step further and disclose the identity of the agent managing the property and you can then proceed to communicate through that agency.”

Barbecue hot tip

It’s that time of year when friendly neighbours start to invite each other over for barbecues. So here’s a handy hint, suggested to me by my Radio National colleague Ian Townsend. To save money, always run two gas bottles. If you only have one bottle, you risk running out while you’re cooking for guests.

So, to avoid such embarrassment (not to mention ruined food), you tend to exchange the bottle too early, before it has expired, hence wasting whatever gas is still in the bottle. By interchanging two bottles you can always comfortably cook away until the very last gasp of gas, before subtly and seamlessly slipping the other bottle onto the barbecue.

You then have all the time in the world to replace the first bottle, which becomes your standby. A simple idea which will have you cooking with gas!

Bmag Oct 9th 2012 - Rolf forgets, Canberra remembered

Rolf Harris knew he’d stuffed up but it would be 20 years before he fully understood the consequences! This week 9 October marks the 30th anniversary of the Queen closing the Commonwealth Games in Brisbane.

My favourite 1982 story comes not from the closing ceremony but from the opening, where thousands of school students formed a map of Australia with red, white and blue placards. One of them was Katherine, now a Taringa hairdresser, who (about 10 years ago) let me in on a little secret. It seems the children were getting their cues from Rolf Harris as he sang Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport. Trouble was, Katherine told me, Rolf forgot the words: “Good old Rolf missed out a whole verse!”

Years later, I surprised both Katherine and Rolf by introducing them to each other on radio. He confessed: “I’d written a special verse about when the Games are over with that final hurrah, don’t go rushing home, stay and have a look around Australia. That was the gist of the idea, and I forgot all about it. I’d sung the song for 20 years and you go into automatic mode. I just left out the last verse.”

Katherine chimed in, laughing: “That was the cue to turn the placard over and pick up another one.”

Rolf replied: “Oh Lord! I mucked your bit up. I’m terribly sorry. Can I apologise in retrospect?!” Now, whenever Katherine cuts my hair, she talks about the day Rolf Harris personally apologised to her!

School trip a hit

In the last issue (bmag, 18 September), I told you how much I’d been looking forward to accompanying Jack’s year 7 school trip to Canberra. I’m pleased to report the week was everything I had hoped for and more. Children at that age (11 or 12) are great company. On the one hand, they’re cheeky and fun. On the other, they have a real thirst for information.

At the National Gallery, they were fascinated by the painting technique and story behind Jackson Pollock’s Blue Poles (controversially bought by the Whitlam government for over $1million and now worth more than $40million). At the Australian Electoral Commission, one girl challenged the law that says anyone given a three-year (or more) prison sentence cannot vote. Our guide was stumped! And at Parliament House, when Australia’s young MP Wyatt Roy asked the students for the main issues facing Australia in 2012, hands went up straight away, with climate change and same-sex marriage topping the list.

In the bus there was much singing and laughter, and Gangnam Style (look up Psy on YouTube if you don’t know what that is) was the dance routine du jour at lunchtime (yes, I may have been the one who started that!)

The teachers were pretty good company too! And hard-working! They were on the job from 7am till 9pm every day. I saw how being a teacher is as much about emotional wellbeing as helping children to learn, not to mention ensuring you don’t lose anyone along the way! I also realise now how challenging it must be for male teachers in this “all men are paedophiles” society. They have to be oh-so-careful.

There were several times that I thought about this (and I know the other six parents did too). For example, as we left Brisbane, Jack asked me to take lots of photos. It took me a few days to be comfortable doing so if other children were going to be in them. (Thankfully I did, as one of Jack’s friends lost his camera and we were able to send him photos I had taken). I always sat myself next to the boys on the bus, never a girl. I know, I was probably overthinking it. But then on the last morning, when one of the boys gave me a big hug before turning to a male teacher, he was told kindly but plainly, “we don’t hug teachers”. It’s a shame that it’s come to that, but you can understand why.

That aside, I would strongly encourage any parents who are given the opportunity to join a school trip or camp to do so. You’ll enjoy observing your child in learning situations, interacting with others and having to be independent, and you will come away knowing so much more about your own son or daughter.

Bmag 18th Sept 2012 - Off to Canberra, gift voucher rip-offs

As you read this, I’m on a year seven school trip to the nation’s capital. No, I’m not looking for sympathy. I’ve been looking forward to this week for six and a half years and I’ll tell you why. As a really young fella growing up in the north-west of England, London was the most exciting place you could ever hope to visit. To do so was rare and it was special. With Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, black taxis and red doubledecker buses, London was the Land of Oz and the train line from Preston to Euston was the yellow brick road! Then in 1981, just before my ninth birthday, we moved to Australia.

Of course, London retained its magical status and I still pinch myself whenever I’m there, but I soon found myself looking up to Canberra in exactly the same way. I first made it to Australia’s capital city when I was 13, part of the formative experience that was a driving holiday down the New England Highway, across to Broken Hill, then down to Adelaide and Melbourne, and finally up to Canberra and the Snowy Mountains. Road trips have been in my blood ever since. But I digress.

What I’ve never understood is why we in Australia make such a sport out of hating Canberra. It’s packed with sites of national significance, yet people laugh if you tell them you’re going there. Sure, it might not have the most exciting nightlife in Australia but it is our capital city and the thought of flying down with Jack’s year seven class is bringing back all those tingly thoughts of a childhood trip to London.

So keen am I on Canberra that when Nikki fell pregnant in 1999 and we were looking for a special somewhere for our final childless holiday, that’s where we went. We could have chosen a tropical island somewhere, or the hustle and bustle of Sydney, but instead we had a week in Canberra. And now I’m dying to get there to share my love of the capital with my son. And that brings me to the other reason I’m chuffed to be heading down.

We’ve known about the year seven Canberra trip since Jack started primary school in 2006. For all these years, we’ve plotted for me to go as one of the parenthelpers, so that Jack and I can have a boys’ bonding week. You may have noticed I’m not on the radio this week. Now you know why. I’m also taking next week off!

I have a feeling I’m going to need an extra week just to get over the excitement of a trip to Canberra! And that’s my excitement I’m talking about!

Gift vouchers

On a completely unrelated topic, why must shops impose expiry dates on gift vouchers? I recently found in my wallet a voucher for a coffee shop that was given to me a year ago. It literally was one day from expiring. If I hadn’t used it, that $30 would have just evaporated. Only, it wouldn’t have disappeared, would it? In reality, the coffee shop would have kept it. Why can’t shops just hold the money (which they receive when they sell the voucher) and allow you to use your voucher at any time, forever?

With complimentary or discount vouchers, there is an argument for shops spreading out redemption. They can’t afford to have everyone claiming their free or discounted goods or services on the one day. That, I understand. But when it comes to gift vouchers, the shops are sitting on the cash, not to mention the interest it’s earning them.

Then, of course, you get the situation where shops go into administration and won’t redeem vouchers or they have rules stating you must spend a certain amount in order to use your voucher. Again, they have the cash! What happened to it? It’s worth noting that some shops don’t have expiry dates.

And yes, I acknowledge that ABC Shops are among those that have expiry dates, so I’m certainly not claiming the moral high ground for the ABC here. It all makes me think the best gift voucher around is cold, hard cash. It’s the gift voucher you can spend anywhere, anytime!

Bmag Sept 4th 2012 - Public service job cuts

With the state budget looming, we should soon see an end to the uncertainty hanging over our public servants. It’s three months since we were first warned as many as 20,000 could lose their jobs. Thousands already have. Not frontline staff, we’ve been assured. But then Glen Elmes, Minister Assisting the Premier, admitted on my radio show that “frontline” had been redefined, making thousands more public servants potentially disposable. To be “frontline” under the LNP, you must spend 75 per cent of your time dealing directly with the public. Under Labor, it was just over 50 per cent.

I’m a public servant (albeit Commonwealth) so I decided to apply the 75 per cent test to what I do. Despite hosting Brisbane’s top-rating breakfast radio show with around 200,000 listeners every week, I’m not sure I would qualify as “frontline” under Campbell Newman. Yes, I’m on air three hours a day, and yes I regularly speak at service clubs, but what about the hours where I’m not in direct contact with listeners? Reading books and news articles, watching news programs, sniffing around for stories, auditioning new music, surveying outside broadcast locations, generally absorbing popular culture in order to inform my radio show, the list goes on. Is all that being a frontline public servant? It wouldn’t be in the Queensland Public Service. But would anyone notice if the federal government decided the ABC didn’t need radio announcers? Just between me and you, I think that they would.

My point is this – I can understand how Queensland public servants are nervous right now. I can also see how nebulous it can be to just pick a number like 75 per cent to define “frontline”.

Premier Campbell Newman repeatedly says that everywhere he goes he is thanked for cutting the public service, that it’s only public servants and the unions who are angry. For example, he told 612 ABC Brisbane’s Steve Austin: “I spent seven hours at the Exhibition (Ekka) and I can tell you that I had one person come up to me and express some negativity. For the rest of the seven hours, I had people coming up, shaking my hand saying ‘we know it’s tough, please keep doing what you’re doing’.”

I don’t dispute the Premier has his supporters. But maybe it would be healthy for him to be exposed to what others are saying. And so I asked my radio listeners to imagine bumping into Campbell Newman. What would they tell him? We received 58 calls, 24 of which were supportive of the Premier’s actions. Just under half. Fifty-eight might seem a small sample but, for radio talkback on one specific question, it’s actually a decent number. Think of it as more qualitative than quantitative, more focus group than phone poll.

You (and the Premier) can listen to all the calls at http://www.tinyurl.com/messages4cn but here’s a selection:

“Well done Campbell. Mate, it’s about time those blokes got out and got a real job. Save that money. Make the state proud again,” says Corey, from Coolum Beach.

“Campbell Newman is doing a good job taking away a lot of the public servants’ jobs. They’ve been superfluous for a long, long time. We’ve had a lot of friends in the public service and they’ve had RDOs and sick days and extended leave on our taxpayers’ money and I don’t think this is very fair,” says Cheryl, from Ipswich.

“Thanks very much Campbell for what you’re doing. Don’t worry mate, there’s a very large silent majority who are also very pleased with the way you are handling this state,” says Trevor, from Birkdale.

“If I saw the Premier in a public place, I’d tell him well done, keep going,” says Kevin, from Macdowall.

“You have no idea how much damage you’re doing. Someone needs to stop you before it’s too late,” says Mary, from Goodna.

“There are a lot of people feeling bruised right now. Compassion please,” says Jenny, from East Brisbane.

“There was never any hint of this in your campaign. It’s not what we voted for,” says Dylan, from Kenmore.

 “Belt tightening is all very well but such severe cuts could actually drive Queensland into recession with so many public servants losing their jobs and the rest looking over their shoulders and unwilling to spend,” says Karen, from Wavell Heights.

Bmag 21st August 2012 - Childhood mementos

I have just taken possession of an envelope full of my very own ginger baby curls from 1974. I’m not entirely sure what to do with them – reaction from friends ranged from “ewww” and “spooky” to “that’s disgusting and sweet at the same time” – but I am thankful to my Aunty Margaret for keeping them all these years. (Hey, I know someone who’s kept every toe nail he’s clipped and someone else who has both of his sons’ foreskins to present to them at their 21st birthday parties. Now that’s disgusting!)

Back to the suddenly-far-more-savoury envelope of 40-year-old Spencer hair. This, combined with moving back into our home post-renovations, has seen me contemplating the treasures we keep, and those we throw out or misplace, especially from childhood. I have shoe-boxes full of theme park and special event (think Commonwealth Games, Expo 88) souvenirs, medals, report cards, love letters, vinyl records, books, model trains and other toys dating back to the ’70s and ’80s. Even my high school blazer!

But you can’t hold on to everything forever. And eventually, if you don’t do it yourself, your own children will have to deal with these trinkets. That’s why Claudette Prince recently put her Sydney 2000 Olympic Games torch on the market. Claudette told me: “No-one in the family knows I’m doing it. They’d tell me not to. I’ve got a fairly large family and when I leave this mortal coil they’re going to be saying ‘what are we going to do with all this stuff of Mum’s? Do you want this?’ It doesn’t mean anything to anyone else.”

So what do you keep and what do you cull? You’ve heard the expression: “What you haven’t used for 18 months, you don’t need.” Well here’s a new one for you, one of the dads at Jack’s school offered me the following advice for not cluttering the house: “When we moved, we only brought half the things back into the house.” Wow! Half?! There’s a challenge! So I’ve taken this on as my new philosophy. But how do you know what to keep? I asked on Twitter – what do you treasure most from your childhood?

Stuffed toys featured prominently in the replies. I still have Pussy, a well-loved cat given to me by my Great Aunty Minnie the day I was born. I used to “smoke” Pussy, which involved breathing through her ears. Did I just reveal that publicly?! Yes I think I did… For @KimmerLions, it’s her plush purple poodle which she’s had for about 50 years; @Polikat2 still has Big Ted; @Monkylicious treasures “a teddy bear and blankie I’ve had since I was one”; and @TheJenHansen holds on to Puppy: “He was my stuffed dog I slept with. He’s a bit bald. When I was two, I pulled his fur off while sleeping.”

Meanwhile @BrizzieBlog still has the first story she wrote when she was just five, @Kin_ has her dance costumes – “my children get such joy from them” – and @Simonwf is holding onto a one-piece baby jumpsuit that he wore, his son wore, “and I’m saving for his child if it lasts that long!”

Of course, we don’t all have the luxury of deciding what to keep. For some, it’s already too late or the decision’s been made for us. For example, @Dellvink says she “was devastated my mum threw out a stuffed sock with eyes called Oogly. I still wish I had him.” And therein lies a lesson for anyone thinking of clearing out their children’s things – check with them first! But @Dellvink may yet be reunited with her Oogly; @Psephy regretted discarding a toy guitar but in a remarkable twist “recovered it some 30 years later at an antique sale!”

Have we learned anything from all this talk of long-loved toys and teddy bears? I think I have. Among all the replies to my Twitter question about what we still treasure from childhood was this one from the – how shall I describe him? – shiny-topped @Debritz: “Sadly not my hair!”

And as I read those four words, I know why this envelope-full of 1970s Howson locks has found its way back to me. One day soon, I may need them again on my head! I am definitely not throwing them away!

Bmag August 7th 2012 - Holiday in our street

One of the little luxuries Nikki and I (and our 12-year-old son Jack) enjoy is treating ourselves to a weekend in the city, being a tourist in our own town. We do this about three times a year, always in a different hotel and always eating at different cafés and restaurants. If pressed for my favourite location, I’d have to say I am partial to a view of the city from South Bank but, wherever we stay, I just love the extravagance and slight ludicrousness of being half-an-hour from home yet mentally a million miles away!

Well, now the Howsons have taken the ‘tourist in our own town’ concept to a new extreme! We’re currently spending two weeks staying in our own street in Indooroopilly – literally 200 metres from home – and paying $950 a week for the privilege! Let me explain. Every day for the past three years, I’ve driven past this gated community of serviced apartments with a sign on the gate spruiking “weekly relocation accommodation”. Being a curious chap, I’ve often wondered who would stay here in the ’burbs, rather than in town. I imagined folk who had just moved to Brisbane, but beyond that I was stuck.

And so, when we came to having some renovations done at home, and with the builder suggesting he could work faster without us being there, I knew exactly where I wanted to bring the family for a couple of weeks! It would be close to home in case the builder had questions for me, but mainly I would get to find out who has a holiday in Indooroopilly! Yes, the managers told me on day one, folk moving to Brisbane rent here until they’re familiar with the city. Often they book in for three months to give themselves time to have a good look around. So who else?

Well, the families of several overseas students have arrived while we’ve been staying. I guess that makes sense when you consider the university is just a stone’s throw away. But what’s completely surprised me is the number of other families here from Indooroopilly and neighbouring Chapel Hill, all doing exactly the same as us – yes, they too are reno refugees! Looks like the people who built this complex knew exactly what they were doing. There certainly is a market for accommodation in the ’burbs!

And you know what? Whilst we don’t have a view of the CBD and we’ve still had to go to school or work each day, it truly has felt like we’ve been on holiday. Luxurious long deep baths (knowing you’ve already paid for the water), no chores other than cooking and washing, beds and towels are changed every few days and unlimited, free use of the pool and gym – it almost makes me want to come back here sometime!

Only one thing has caused us distress, a moral dilemma on the first night. Our internet devices all picked up unsecured wi-fi, presumably from a nearby house. Knowing we were going to be here for a couple of weeks, it was tempting to leech away. But was it safe and was it right? I turned to my Twitter followers for advice and here are some of the responses...

@mjcj1971 said: “Just do it”. @Karawr agreed: “If there’s no password, go for it!” @Fionawb went further, egging me on: “Do it. Do it. Do it. (Consider me a little devil on your shoulder)”. @Australianne responded with: “Wrong. You could take someone over their data allowance and it’s very expensive after that. It’s stealing.” @Amy_Remeikis suggested it was probably unlocked deliberately: “If you haven’t locked your wi-fi in 2012, you are okay with people using it”. @Ricky_Elias has an open-door policy at his place: “I have an unlocked wi-fi with ‘guest’ in the name and don’t mind our neighbours using it”. What would you have done?

In the end, this comment from @EvanontheGC decided it: “It’s always fun to see what files I can find on other computers on an unsecured network”. Click [disconnect wi-fi]. With that moral burden lifted and with only a few days left in our suburban holiday home, I shall channel the Golgafrincham Ark-B Captain from The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and declare: “Just time for another bath!”