That’s it. I’m out of here. Melbourne, I loved you once but it’s all over between us.
So the house is sold, the boxes packed, and I’m heading bush, without a single tear. …
After waxing lyrical about what he used to love about Melbourne, Bolt launches into the reasons he now wants to leave:
And a city that insists it’s still an arts mecca because — look! — we have lanes coated with graffiti really needs a reality check.
Then there’s the traffic.
When I moved to Melbourne, it had 2.8 million people, and that already seemed plenty.
But our politicians, addicted to macho-growth, doubled it to more than five million.
Homes with gardens were torn down and replaced with apartments.
The city spread like cancer, and Melbourne now has just too, too many people.
Boy, have I noticed.
Finding a break in the traffic to get out of my street got harder.
Sunday went from a quiet day on the roads to jam-packed.
Melbourne now has just too, too many people. Picture: Martin Keep
And with so many newcomers crowding the city, you couldn’t talk any more about a “we” — people sharing the stories that turn individuals into a community.
We barely share a language, now that immigrants no longer feel the pressure to integrate, as did my parents’ generation.
In the virus crisis, the government translated health warnings into 53 languages, and still it wasn’t enough.
Victorians born overseas were twice as likely as those born here to get sick.
And have you noticed how brutal Melbourne has become?
More gangs, more street violence, more home invasions.
Even the language is more brutal.
I this week read of the “heartfelt” Instagram post of a footballer’s fiance, battling to get pregnant through IVF.
“’Motherhood sounds so f..king magical,” she wrote.
How that obscenity jarred next to “motherhood”.
Becoming just another global city. Read it all.
For decades, there has been net migration out of both Sydney and Melbourne by the Australian-born.