G’day, mates.
Rip Woodchip here.
Now I’m not gonna sugar-coat it—sometimes life hits harder than a rogue gumtree in a gale.
Up in Taree and along the Mid-North Coast—floods left mud where memories used to be. The Taree Showgrounds Men’s Shed copped it –1.8 metres of chaos through their shed. And it was great to see other sheds Like the Dingley Village Mens Shed in Victoria raising money to support them!
And for those who remember the Black Saturday bushfires down in Kinglake that Graham was talking about a bit earlier… well, you don’t forget something like that. Not in one lifetime.
Floods, fires… they don’t just tear up roads and fences. They tear through the middle of your life.
One minute you’re sittin’ on the porch with a cuppa—next minute, the porch is gone. And sometimes, the things that go missing aren’t things at all.
Your sense of normal. Your peace and quiet. The photos on the fridge. The dog. Maybe even someone you loved more than words could ever say.
Yeah, grief’s a bugger like that. It doesn’t wear a name tag or knock politely.
It just moves in. Sets up shop in the quiet corners of your day. And no matter how many times someone says, “You’re lucky to be alive,”—you don’t always feel it.
But I want you to know something. If you’re still standing, even when it hurts like hell—that’s brave. If you showed up to the Shed today and could barely speak—that’s brave too.
And if all you did this week was make a cup of tea and stare out the window for an hour—mate, that counts.
Grief’s not a straight line. It’s more like an old country road—full of potholes, detours, and the occasional roo you didn’t see coming. Some days, you’ll want to talk. Other days, not a word. That’s alright.
But don’t lock yourself away too long. Because the longer you’re out there alone, the harder it is to find your way back.
That’s where the Shed comes in. Not to fix you—but to walk with you. Even if it’s just sweeping the floor next to someone who gets it. Even if you only talk about the footy or what’s wrong with the kettle again.
Truth is, most blokes don’t need therapy. They just need somewhere they don’t have to pretend everything’s fine.
So if that’s you—if you’re carryin’ something heavy—bring it in. We’ve got strong benches and stronger shoulders.
And if you’re not ready to talk, that’s okay too. We’ll hand you a spanner and stand beside you till you are.
Alright, I’ll leave it there. I’ve got a job half-finished and a tea gone cold. But remember—grief might change you, but it doesn’t end you.
You’re still here. And we’re still with you.
Catch you in the Shed.
Rip out.