Greetings from the postcard-perfect Gungahlin. This artwork was part of an online exhibition organised by Gungahlin Arts in 2020, inviting locals to celebrate where they lived. Photo: File.
Dear reader, we know there are important issues out there and, as whip-smart as you are, you tell us what you think about them, regularly.
So when we put the call-out asking what you thought Gungahlin needed, you weren’t shy. In fact you were quite rude.
We thought better roads, schools and a hospital would top your list, but no. It was all about the absence of some bloke called Mario, a cinema, and better chips.
What happened to Mario? you asked, referring to that cardboard cut-out of the cartoon cult hero taken from Gungahlin Drive. He surfaced in 2020 but hasn’t been seen since, if you discount urban myths of him sending postcards of himself sunbaking somewhere else during Canberra winters. He was last seen atop a concrete air-pipe – so it’s hardly surprising that he did a runner.
Our readers also fried hard to get a certain chip shop to set up in Gungahlin – no names, no pack krill, although the name can be linked by adjectives to royalty. It apparently has the best chips. Ever. Sounds a bit fishy though.
Perhaps the loudest call from you, dear reader, was “where is the cinema we were promised?”.
Don’t hold your breath folks, your very much older, distant relative across the border has been waiting for one since Queanbeyan was barely a princess. Anyway, don’t most new houses now come with television screens that are so big you no longer need walls?
Sure, it’s not so much fun throwing jaffas at the screen when you have to clean it up yourself later, but at least you don’t have far to go home.
People also wanted to know who broke the head off the turtle statue in Forde, what happened to the frog statue near the pelicans at Amaroo – “I need answers” the reader demanded, and, if it comes down to it, where’s the pelican?
If it’s wildlife you’re after, we suggest you pack a lunch and head out to Throsby and one of our national capital’s greatest natural achievements, Mulligans Flat, where apart from the fact it is the largest single grassy woodland conservation area, it’s really easy to find because all the streets around it are named after things you find in there – like Quokka, Bettong, Brushtail and Cricket Streets. Barramundi Street is perhaps a bit of a stretch, literally, while Horse Park Drive, is a little on the trot.
As the newcomer on the suburban block, Gungahlin has its critics, many of whom have never actually been there but are sure they wouldn’t like it anyway – they like to follow the crowd … to Manuka.
Possibly some of these folk may be responsible for such comments as: “Where is the underground asbestos dump at Gungahlin?”, “Why are the blocks so small?”, “Who designed it?” – and someone who has clearly made their mark(s) when it comes to punctuation, “Who planned the area !!!!! Was it done at a session at the pub ???”.
Before Gungahlin folk take up arms in a not-so-civil war against the critics, remember that all that’s old becomes new again. One of the critics asked when the town was going to get a post office that “wasn’t piddly”.
If you go back a lifetime or two, Gungahlin, or “Goongarline” as one Edward Crace named it in 1862, actually started its European life with a post office store.
But we prefer the story that goes back even further, like a few thousand years, when, legend has it, a First Nations woman gave voice to a word that sounded not unlike “Gungahlin” – a word that meant “wonderful”.
Original Article published by Sally Hopman on Riotact.
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