Monday morning coffee on the front verandah is my ritual. In spring jacarandas bloom; in summer it’s poincianas. All year there is birdsong. Our youngest rolls on a skateboard, rattling the timber planks, ignoring our pleas – “It’s too early! You’ll wake the neighbours!”
If I were a cartoon dog, this could be a Bluey episode.
When I returned to Brisbane with a baby in tow, setting up house in the ’burbs wasn’t part of the plan. A decade renting inner-city apartments had left me unwilling to give up on the vibrancy or convenience. In my mind suburbia was devoid of life, and while I longed for a garden, the dream was more along the lines of a worker’s cottage in West End.
Financial reality set in.
The plan pivoted to a walkable suburb with excellent public transport. We sat down with a map of Brisbane and placed circles over busway and train stations, supermarkets, cafes, parks and schools, to indicate walkable distances. Where circles overlapped we narrowed in.
This method led to potential homes in pockets scattered all over Brisbane, from Mitchelton to Wynnum. And Oxley, a suburb where living near the train station checked all the boxes – even a cute worker’s cottage.
The Oxley Railway Station opened in 1874, prompting the construction of a new town centre adjacent to the station. This pre-car, rail-centric development is what gives Oxley a walkable village atmosphere. Leafy streets are dotted with character houses, albeit on a more modest scale than those of neighbouring Corinda or Sherwood.
There’s a history of working-class grit. Punk pioneer Ed Kuepper of The Saints grew up here! Some might consider it a less desirable choice among the western railway suburbs, but I think it holds its own. Besides, if the need for fine dining or arthouse cinema strikes, Graceville’s upmarket Honour Avenue is only seven minutes on the train.
I was starting to rethink suburbia.
All the usual suspects can be found in Oxley’s retail heart, as well as some oddballs: Relove, for vintage and records; Zombster, a comics store; and a branch of the Country Women’s Association. Also, former premier Anastasia Palaszczuk’s favourite Thai restaurant – Thai Malila. The shops are worth a walkthrough – not least because on foot you can avoid getting stuck behind the frequently malfunctioning boom gate in the Woolies car park.
Discovering a farm next to the Brisbane River was unexpected. Technically, we’ve strolled over the border to Corinda, but walking my kids down to see the horses quickly became a highlight of living in Oxley. Introducing them to the farmers growing our food at Neighbourhood Farm felt extra special.
The roadside vegetable stall has since closed and there is a growing waitlist for produce boxes. I’m keeping my eye out for the next tomato-growing workshop. After experiencing beginner’s luck with my first homegrown crop, I need expert advice on where I have gone wrong since.
The presence of a farm so close to the city is a silver lining to what Oxley is infamous for – being on a flood plain. Benarrawa, the Yagara name for the Oxley creek, refers to both the waterway and surrounding lands.
Naively, I thought avoiding blue on the flood map was enough. A casual chat with a neighbour revealed the hopscotch of vacant blocks around my home was caused by a landslip in ’74. I’ve kept a suspicious eye on our concrete stumps ever since.
Living here might come with increased insurance premiums, but it’s a particular type of community bond that gets forged in floodwaters. Reluctant to leave, people do what it takes. Homes lifted onto higher stumps offer a rough indication of historic flood levels.
During 2022’s flood, help came from within. Neighbours were evacuated on kayaks usually reserved for camping, and spare bedrooms were readied. Offers to help poured in – clean up, homemade sandwiches, storage… My home on the high side of Oxley didn’t flood, and the stumps didn’t budge, but my understanding of community shifted. Inspired by my neighbours, I threw my hand up to co-ordinate the clean-up and restoration of a flooded playgroup building.
New homes are constructed faster than flood-buyback properties are demolished. There is no escaping Brisbane’s growing pains. Anyone who drives along Oxley Road knows it. It’s difficult to discern which is happening more rapidly: an increase in traffic or degradation of the surface.
My favourite fact about Oxley? We have a street called Costalot Street. For real. Apparently it was an unserious suggestion by a developer, last on the list of potential names, a reference to infrastructure overspend. At the time the property market was still considered somewhat affordable. Now, every street is Costalot Street. First home buyers find Oxley as out of reach as West End was to me.
In hindsight, my old inner-city prejudices seem ridiculous. Oxley is a mere 12 kilometres from Brisbane CBD, 25 minutes on the train – hardly the middle of nowhere. I count myself lucky that I managed to change my perspective before the window of affordability slammed shut.
Meanwhile, my street has its own vibrancy. It kicks off with a morning procession: joggers, dog walkers, sleepless parents pushing prams. Next, hurried commuters and strolling retirees.
I sit on the front verandah soaking it in, enjoying my coffee. When the students start dawdling past, it’s a sure sign I’ve lingered too long and I’ll be late walking my own kids to school.
Alice Murphy is a garden enthusiast and Oxley resident with a background in interior design and education.