16 January 2026, Xavier College, Kew, Melbourne, Australia
In the middle of a noisy, crowded, birthday party around the turn of the century, Tim and I first bonded over finding someone else – anyone else – our age, who knew all the words to High Society. And we ended up singing the soundtrack to each other. Genuine, corny story. Genuine, electric connection.
That was just the start of discovering this absurd Swiss-Army-knife of a human. Came for the crooning, stayed for the impassioned conversations into the night, over decades of nights.. endless thrust and parry about the latest in world politics, the limits of moral relativism, free will versus fate, JFK – the art of TV news scripts, the art of radio, the art of graffiti – JFK, travel, history, photography, cooking, gardening, home renovation – he was deeply, and entertainingly, thoughtful and informed about so many things.
A conversation with Tim could typically take you from the perils of neo-liberalism to quite the analysis of Robert Redford’s coat in Three Days of the Condor.
And of course, sport. I led him to love league and rugby, he deepened my grasp of AFL. His learning about basketball sprinted ahead, driven by our Paddy’s passion.
And.. there was the cricket. Endless hours watching cricket together. He was so happy we brought Maggie, not six months old, to see Warnie’s 700th, and he often recalled, only the immense roar at the G at the time could make our happy little girl jump. It will not be forgotten that our precious time together watching cricket was cruelly cut short, not just by cancer, but by Bazball.
This fella was so bloody interesting, and challenging, to engage with, all the time. It was addictive. The flipside to living with someone who has an intelligent observation or opinion or piece of advice about literally everything – that I learnt to rely on ‘Chat G-P-Tim’ if you like – is the hollowing loss of losing it.
And while we’re clearly here to talk about the deep things, let’s detour to the superficial. As his brother-in-law Chris might say, he was a good-looking rooster. His looks always led people to search for comparisons. Over the years he was told he looked like Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, Clarke Gable, JFK Jr, Dylan McDermott, Gerard Butler, Harrison Ford, Richard Gere, and yes that Clooney guy.Tim handled these constant comparisons with tremendous grace. I don’t think they would have resonated so much if he weren’t such a romantic.
Beneath this distracting veneer … was the sort of timber you can build a family on.
Tim was the rock of our family, and also the visionary – the bridge and the bungee cord. Whenever I was even considering venturing to the edge of my abilities, or, indeed, beyond, in my career, he always backed me. With that encouragement and imagination, some of our joint ventures have been inspired, some crazy-brave. I can think of some dodgy renovation ambitions along the way.
He could always imagine something else, some other outcome. Right until the very, very end in fact. He could always see how a house could look, how my career could unfold, how we could live our lives. Our Dreamer-In-Chief helped guide our lives. And we reaped the rewards.
This insatiable imagining and restlessness made him an accomplished traveller, propelling him through a few dozen countries over his life, and he regretted not seeing more – but he always combined it with a deep grounding in family and community.
Tim was born to be a dad. And so, counted himself so lucky to be dad to two wonderful humans. They were, they are, quite simply, his greatest joy. He brought them up. He was there, with unending patience and time, for everything, all hours of the day. He delighted in all aspects of fatherhood, even when I was struggling, and I loved that. He has unstintingly been there for his kids’ studies and their passions. He consciously stepped back from his career to do this, choosing a CV-compromising path when the knock to the male ego and earning capacity were still pretty high. It was a gift to his kids that I cannot overestimate.
His nurturing qualities, though, preceded and extended beyond, fatherhood. I’ve been utterly floored by the number of people, young and old, whom he met through sport or journalism or teaching, who’ve shared that his kindness to them even in tiny ways stayed with them, and in some cases, they told him, changed their lives.
Tim fought for people, driven by an acute sense of justice, sometimes unleashed at his own expense, but this was the quality of the man. He was a proud unionist, someone who cared deeply about others, who would speak up loudly for any colleague, teammate, friend, loved one.
And he would have loved being with you here today.. he would ask after you, share a drink and a loud laugh.
Tim said near the end quite often, no one truly dies if you say their name. So, invoke his name …if you’re ever wondering if you should improve your penmanship.. (yes) .. if you’re ever wondering if you should wear more than two colours at once (Tim says no) … invoke his name if you’re facing a choice about spending more time with your loved ones, or gathering people together for a party, or fighting for the people around you.
I’d like to thank you all for being here, and to express my undying gratitude for everyone who’s leant in to support me and the kids and who I know will continue to do so. I want to say hi to our beloved friends overseas, Ellen, Aurore and Sebastian, a shout-out to Will and Dom, and all our dear friends in London and Dublin and Brussels and elsewhere. We do feel your warmth from here.
I wish you Tim, all the answers about JFK… an afterlife of beauty, and jazz, and peace.