My suburb has become a construction zone. What happened to my hilly, bohemian retreat?
This week in our Life in the ’Burbs series, we focus on a neighbourhood that’s gone from shabby chic to a developer’s dream.
Opinion
January 12, 2026 — 6.00am
January 12, 2026 — 6.00am
Life in the ’burbs is a series that highlights the good, bad and beautiful of Brisbane suburbs. Writers from around the city are penning love letters (mostly) to their suburbs every week.
Having a pet is a great way to meet the neighbours.
Around my Paddington patch, my ragdoll cat, Runty the Magnificent, is a street celebrity – a magnet for residents and passers-by to fawn over and photograph.
He’s introduced me to friendly families along our narrow one-way street and cat-loving tenants from his favourite haunt – the ’80s brick rental unit block directly opposite.
So when your cat gets trapped behind the jammed security gate of an upmarket renovation and you politely ask your neighbour to hand him over to you, but they curtly respond, “I don’t do cats” – well, it’s a pretty clear sign times have changed.
During my first quarter-century as a Paddo local, my closest neighbours were a retired working-class couple who had bought their three-bedroom pre-war Queenslander in the 1950s for the princely sum of 12 pounds. They were humble, salt-of-the-earth folk and conscientious “good neighbours” who looked out for us. I paid my respects at their funerals.
Developers bought and subdivided the property. Relaxation of council rules allowed the building to be moved to just over a metre from our dividing fence, which enabled another house to be built beside it. The heritage-protected home was raised a storey to incorporate a huge extension.
A family of three acquired the made-over monolithic mansion, which now lacked side access to the rear of the property. The owner’s solution was to unilaterally install a gate in our shared dividing fence for hired help and their equipment to transit via our property instead.
Nice try.
Meanwhile, the eight flats across the street and the four adjacent ones will soon be demolished and replaced with luxury four-bedroom residences. I’m not expecting the address to remain quite so welcoming for Runty or me.
These outsized transformations have driven the median house price up to $2.4 million, only feeding the Paddington stereotype of pretentious elitism. How likely is it, if Bluey’s family were real, that they’d be able to afford that magical house high on one of Paddington’s scenic rises?
How likely is it, if Bluey’s family were real, they’d be able to afford that magical Paddington house?
