A Favourite Melbourne Memory – Stories from U3A Melbourne City Writers
At Seniors in Melbourne, we love sharing real stories from people who know and love this city. That’s why we were thrilled when members of U3A Melbourne City’s Writers Group agreed to take part in a special writing project for us.
We asked the group to reflect on the theme “A Favourite Melbourne Memory”, and what followed were personal, heartfelt, and nostalgic stories that capture Melbourne in all its forms—past and present.
From quiet moments to bustling city scenes, these short stories celebrate the places, people, and experiences that make Melbourne memorable. We’re delighted to share them with our readers, and hope you enjoy these reflections as much as we do.
Stories from U3A Melbourne City Writers
IT WAS COLD
by Trisha Richardson
It was cold.
Very cold.
They’d arrived from the UK with suitcases full of summer clothes, sunscreen, and sun hats, to a drab windy September in Melbourne. They had lived in Queensland in another lifetime and had often heard people complaining about Melbourne’s cold weather, but dismissed it as interstate rivalry.
Boy were those Queenslanders right.
They stayed initially with friends in a miner’s cottage in the western suburbs and quickly invested in the obligatory UGG boots and thick jumpers. The house never seemed to warm up, and the heating consisted of an ineffective single heater in the lounge room, which did little to heat that draughty room, never mind the rest of the house. It was reminiscent of her early childhood in the UK when you scurried to the bathroom or the kitchen and returned as soon as you could from the cold. Their hosts sat in the evenings with rugs and shawls on. If they dared to comment on the cold, people would say ‘but you’re English, surely you’re used to it. English houses, they pointed out to those who would listen, cater for the cold weather.
They persevered.
Melbourne summer that year was miserable, and they wondered what on earth they had done. Back to sunny Queensland, post haste, was the obvious solution, but work and school commitments kept them in Melbourne, at least for the short term.
Slowly, however, over the following two years Melbourne crept under their skin without them really noticing. The variety of food was so interesting, and they would go into Richmond and sample the delights of the Vietnamese food, or to Carlton for the delicious pasta and pizzas. This has increased exponentially over the years. The great ocean road showcased beaches equal to those they had marvelled at in Queensland, and they made friends.
Now in retirement, almost thirty years later, she wouldn’t live anywhere else. Queensland still offers breathtaking beaches and warmer winters but after a week up there, she finds herself itching to get back to the plethora of unique cultural activities on offer in Melbourne.
Interestingly, she now finds herself saying when asked ‘I’m Australian from Melbourne’ rather than ‘I’m English but I’m living in Melbourne’.
Looks like I’m here to stay !!
MELBOURNE
by Cheryl Johnston
Going on a tram, talking to the conductor who handed Mum our tram tickets which were duly punched by a hand puncher with a round circle.
Alighting from the tram and walking down from Collins Street to Bourke Street along Swanston Street, we were greeted by Foys, the competitor to Myers on the corner of Swanston and Bourke Streets. Foys was extra special on the roof as there was a fairground, with a Ferris Wheel that would transport you over the roof lines of many shops and you could see the whole city. Imagine being up higher than some of the buildings in Melbourne.
One day there was a parade, and a cavalcade of black cars went down Bourke Street and we watched from the top of the Ferris wheel, where everybody and everything seemed so small.
After the fairground, we walked up Bourke Street to the Coles Cafeteria. This place was huge, and you were always in awe of the amount of food, the many tables and chairs, the number of people and the deafening noise.
The hustle and bustle was so exciting and you couldn’t wait to grab a silver tray and slide it along the silver rails passed all the food.
I couldn’t resist grabbing my pie on a white plate and passing all the desserts until I reached my absolute favourite, green jelly in a cup with a dollop of cream on the top and a lime cordial drink. It was more than about the food, you were allowed to make a choice, as you gingerly walked to the table with your tray.
Savouring our meal, a lady would come and take your plates away and we would sit with our drinks and just watch the people as they walked past and see what they had on their trays.
This was the best place to visit during the school holidays.
MULTI-TASKING
by Murray Hanna
‘Good morning, Bob,’ I said on the way to my desk. Bob sat a couple of metres away from me in our open-plan office in North Melbourne.
I pulled my sandwich box out of my cycle pannier.
‘Hi Gavin,’ I waved to another of my colleagues across the top of the office partition.
I took off my helmet.
‘Hi Murray,’ replied Gavin. ‘Good ride in today?’
‘Quite good, yes, thanks. Bit of fun coming through the city.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, as I cycled off the Yarra Trail onto St Kilda Road, and across Flinders Street, past the train station, a young, athletic, lycra-clad woman cycled past me.’
Gavin looked up from his computer with a quizzical look.
‘So?’ Gavin wondered where his politically correct, older colleague was going with this story.
‘Well, she was quite, shall we say, shapely? And she was leaning forward, down in the drops on her racing bike. And when she got in front of me, …’
I quickly looked around to check who else was in the office.
‘it was a challenge …’
‘To concentrate on what you were doing?’ Gavin finished my sentence.
‘Yes. I wobbled a bit. It was a dangerous situation!’
‘Shouldn’t be allowed!’ agreed Gavin with a stifled guffaw.
‘But that’s not the end of the story,’ I continued, eyes widening.
‘Do tell,’ said Gavin.
‘Well, as we approached the Flinders Lane intersection, where there’s a police station nearby, this girl cycled past a younger man than me … whose attention was diverted more than mine.
‘He smashed heavily into a cop car. The whole wing mirror assembly was hanging by its cables!”
I LIKE MELBOURNE BECAUSE…
by Catherine Rowe
I like Melbourne because…….
Trees, trees, and more trees. Everywhere you look, there are trees. I’m looking with admiration at the ever-spreading canopy of green from my vantage point at Doncaster Shopping Town. From the second-floor balcony, you can see the whole 17kms to the Central Business District of these young and old sentinels of nature. I cannot think of another city so protected from the accelerating heat from the scorching sun.
In the wet winter, waiting at an inner-city bus stop, I study old European trees, bent like round shouldered beings dripping over the city street and slowly letting go of their large golden leaves. I wonder how they are feeling as it is a miserable scene.
In my empathy I imagine they’re reassuring me they’re looking forward to having a rest throughout the colder months. They whisper in the gentle breeze that they have no energy left to make fresh new leaves. These scarred and scaley grandfathers of the street are listening to the crunch of heavy feet below crushing their spent red and gold blanket of autumn discard. This carpet of foliage reminds the rushing city beings of the onset of chilly days ahead.
My Melbourne has 70,000 trees cared for by erstwhile council employees. There is respect for all kinds of trees here. We can even email a tree. “I see you every
morning, watch you change with the seasons. It makes me happy knowing you are there,” emailed one resident. This email is just one of the thousands the City of Melbourne has received via its Urban Forest Visual, which maps every public tree in the City.
But the trees are not merely part of our sky they are home to the numerous birdlife which have chosen Melbourne to nurture their offspring. Every day I see magpies studying lowly humans from their leafy vantage points. The more energetic are seen busy locating worms on the nature strips. I hear rosellas chatting noisily as they fly swiftly past our windows into the higher trees to socialise with their brothers and sisters. Then there is the miner, a honey eater, that seems to dislike any intrusion into their world. These rascals are not only gregarious but highly territorial, bullying the gate crashes whether they be cats, dogs or other birds.
The trees of Melbourne are vital to my comfort to provide shade, cool the city and
enable me to cope better in extreme heat. I love the birds. As I walk through my
local streets, I hear a symphony of cheerful chirping birds. These winged wonders are not just a delight to my senses but also the custodians of our environment.
MELBOURNE MEMORIES PROSE
by Kay Young
Memories of Melbourne viewed
through eyes of a child who is just five.
Everything was bigger then. Oh, funny little me.
We lived in a small workers cottage in Collingwood
With its red brick fence fronting a small wooden veranda.
A strong protective fence I could barely see over.
I remember that, as funny little me.
It was a place to hide behind
When the Boogyman passed by.
Squeals of fright flew out of my mouth.
I thought, he’s got me, funny little me,
Cos that’s what my brother said He’d do.
Grab me up in a sack and take me away.
I remember that, as funny little me.
Most memorable was the yellow stained kitchen,
At the back of the old wooden planked cottage.
The tin roof boomed loudly under the sound of rain,
Bringing warm comfort, to funny little me
My Mother would chat as she ironed, Grandma hovered over the stove
The cluttered space smelled of boiled vegetables and damp clothes.
The pungent smells stuck in my nose, oh funny little me.
The wire backdoor slammed shut, when let go.
Laundry, was a cauldron for heating and boiling clothes.
It was cold out there, for funny little me.
Beyond was the tiny yard, a playground just for me.
Digging up worms with my tiny hands,
Pretending to eat them like spaghetti
The smelly mud was delicious, to funny little me.
Making mud pies in trays given to me by my darling Mother.
She must have known that would keep me quiet.
Mostly cos I loved to chat, and talk a lot, still do,
Even though, I’m much bigger now, ah funny little me.
Memories linger, of that cottage in Collingwood.
Sitting on the floor in the passage way
Tiny hands touching soft covered radio speakers
Listening and feeling the vibrations, mm ..happy little me
Jazz music, filled my soul every Imaginable day
That is something that has stayed.
They remain there in my brain, in my funny little way.
It’s still there, that little cottage in Alexander St.
The red brick fence is now a white wooden one.
The Outside is still the same,…. not like me.
The Inside has been redone. …. just like me.
Like the Melbourne Skyline, nothing is as it used to be.
A photo of me, my brother and sister, so small
On that tiny front veranda hold special memories
It seemed bigger, as is, funny little me.
NAARM – MELBOURNE
by Ken Mayes
You were here, long before me.
Your huge, gnarled pre-colonial trunk with
strange bulges at your base.
Pressure from your great weight,
or worry about your future?
Jagged stumps, remains of fallen branches,
Stand out like memories of trauma.
New, healthy growth jumps out
from their remains, stronger.
Discarded logs left where they fell,
Like ancient monuments.
Now, a resting place for contemplation.
Three strong branches, twisted together.
So tightly they are almost one.
Others stretching out,
like ever-expanding suburbs towards slim saplings.
Standing in awe.
Excited, young branches
stretching up like players
reaching for high-flying balls.
Huge canoe shaped scar,
half hidden,
protected from further harm
a reminder of true history.
Small black scar near your base,
peeking out, like a shy child,
discovering old and new.
Ants, insects, spiders, moths,
scuttle together like refugees seeking shelter,
following ancient tracks, finding
welcoming bark pealing back,
to provide homes.
Birds, bats, butterflies, possums,
shelter higher.
Are there still bees?
Knot hole safe, unreachable.
Two rainbow parrots,
conscious of their beauty,
check for enemies then fly away.
Ancient tree,
I speak to you,
honour you, pay my respects.
You are silent.
Obediently I listen, waiting.
You welcome me.
I hear your wisdom.
I touch you and feel strength,
healing, understanding.
You are old and new.
You are strong and weak.
You are woman and man.
You are they and them.
You are keeping: You are giving
You are silent: You speak.
You are wise: You are vulnerable
You are living: You are dying.
You are ever changing, always staying.
More than an ancient gum.
A symbol of Naarm, Melbourne.
A TRIP TO TOWN
by Maree Nicol
We lived opposite a train station. Occasionally my mother, sisters and I would dress up and catch a red rattler from Reservoir Station to Princess Bridge. Occasionally during these trips, we would go to George’s department store.
George’s façade is still there but the glorious department store of old is only a memory for those who still remember being there.
Our stylish mother, who passed on her love of clothes to us, made a beeline to the clothes department where I fell in love with a dress for the first time. It was cream with cherries on it with a red velvet sash at the waist. It was so pretty. My older sister loved it too. When she tried it on, she did a perfect little twirl, and that sealed the deal. I was quietly devastated, but I did get a lovely dress as well.
With our new clothes in their gorgeous bags, we went to Coles Cafeteria. It was almost as exciting as George’s. It was huge, noisy and usually crowded. I really cannot remember what I ate, but the thrill wasn’t in the food. Eating out was the delicious novelty.
On the way home we would all would all feel sleepy in the rocking of the train. I would dream of the exotic places in the black and white pictures on the walls.
I waited patiently for my sister to grow out of the dress as she inevitably did and it came to me, still perfect.
About the authors
Melbourne by Cheryl Johnston
A septuagenarian Melbourne born a true Melbournian through and through.
Childhood memories are the foundation of our lives and are a treasure chest of our memories.
Multitasking by Murray Hanna
Murray has lived in the Melbourne metropolitan area for forty-three years, and has ridden bikes for about sixty-five, after graduating from trikes.
He enjoyed the challenges and excitement of cycling to and from work in the CBD during the later years of his working life.
I like Melbourne because… by Catherine Rowe
Catherine is from New Zealand, born into an Irish clan. She values a tree canopy, birds, plants and vegetable gardens. For Catherine, writing is an effective way of communicating, entertaining and educating.
Melbourne Memories Prose by Kay Young*
My experiences are multifaceted in theatre, television, acting, singing and education.
After living in Darwin, Sydney, the UK and Bangkok, I eventually became homesick and returned to Melbourne Australia.
Naarm – Melbourne by Ken Mayes
I moved from Sydney to Melbourne three and a half years ago. Fairly soon after I found a big old gum tree that seemed to welcome me. I see it most days during my early morning walk, and it has now become to me a symbol of Melbourne.
I have tried to convey this in this poem. I acknowledge and pay my respects to the Wurundjeri people who for generations have known Melbourne as Naarm.
About U3A Melbourne City
These stories come from members of U3A Melbourne City’s Writers Group—part of a vibrant community where people aged 50 and over come together to keep learning, share skills, and stay connected. U3A stands for University of the Third Age, but there are no exams or degrees—just the joy of learning for its own sake.
From creative writing and philosophy to languages, art, and history, U3A Melbourne City offers a wide range of classes and activities led by volunteers. Whether you’re looking to learn something new or simply meet like-minded people, there’s always something happening.
If you’ve enjoyed these stories and feel inspired to explore your own creative side, you might like to find out more about your nearest U3A community. You’ll be warmly welcomed.
This article has been published in collaboration with U3A Melbourne City
