From the bottom of my heart, thank you to all of you who asked if my family is safe. Yes, we are. I have been deeply touched by the scores of emails and comments asking about our safety. As far as possible I have replied personally to every single query. If I missed anyone, my apologies ... but please pray for those who have been hard hit by the fires.
Just to give you an update, this is the worst natural disaster in modern Australian history. No question about it. The previous watersheds were the Ash Wednesday bushfires of 1983 and, prior to that, Cyclone Tracy on Christmas Day 1974. These pointers are a summary of what has happened since the blazes broke out on Saturday afternoon ....
- 173 dead, the worst bushfire toll in Australia’s history
- 750 homes destroyed and thousands homeless
- At least four children, possibly more, among the dead
- Hundreds of refugees flock to Red Cross centres
- Two towns obliterated, Marysville declared a crime scene
- Eyewitnesses use a common description: "Armageddon"
- Alfred Hospital, major trauma centre, runs out of morphine
- Fires still burning out of control, despite cooler weather
- Authorities warn some fires could take weeks to contain
- News Limited donates $1 million to Bushfire Appeal
Sometimes you see a familiar face when you don't want to. During Sunday night's television coverage of the Black Saturday bushfires, we caught a brief but unmistakable glimpse of someone who recently befriended us.
We met because of his easy humour and his wide grin - and both those sterling qualities were strongly in evidence during his dramatic moments on the nation's television screens.
In July last year, I had just flown into Langkawi, Malaysia, with my family and we were at a resort pool when a big, burly bloke slipped off his perch in the pool bar. He came back up again none the worse for wear, but announced loudly to his wife: "That's the first time I've ever fallen off a bloody bar stool and not hurt myself''.
He had a huge grin on his face.
I spluttered with laughter.
"Fair dinkum, mate,'' he announced, looking in my direction and extending an introductory handshake. "I could get used to this.'' His name was Steve and he introduced me to his wife nearby.
He had a huge grin on his face.
In the space of the next few minutes, we realised that we shared a common link. He was from Melbourne too - and we exchanged notes about just how cold the Victorian capital was when we flew out.
A few minutes later, I excused myself, saying I had to go to the airport, just a few minutes' drive away.
"Airport?'' he asked, "didn't you just get here?''
I nodded. But I explained I was going to collect my mother-in-law, who was flying in from Singapore to spend a few days with us.
He was incredulous. "Mother-in-law? Mate, you're a better bloody man than I am.''
He had a huge grin on his face.
Every time our paths crossed in the resort, Steve would greet us warmly and tell us what a great time they were having in the tropical heat, so far away from the winter frost of Melbourne. When we bumped into each other in the town centre, he would tell us where the best bargains were to be had.
He had a huge grin on his face.
Late on Sunday night, we were about to switch off the television when we saw a familiar face and heard a distinctive voice. It was Steve. He and his family had lost everything they owned. A cellar had saved their lives as the firestorm passed over them.
They had lost everything. But he told the TV interviewer that they were still alive, so they would probably crack open a good bottle of wine to celebrate.
He must have been distraught. He must have been in shock. He and his wife and their kids were probably struggling with their emotions, with the heat, with the fatigue and with the realisation that they had survived Victoria's most deadly bushfires.
But he still had a grin on his face. This time, however, it was only a wry grin.
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