Before the internet and smartphones, there was Play School - a show that became part of Australian childhood. For generations, it was the soundtrack to slow weekday mornings, the start of craft disasters at the kitchen table, and a familiar sound in homes from city suburbs to country towns. Now, as ABC's beloved children's program turns 60, The Bendigo Standard asked locals what the show meant to them.
Trevor Mulgrave, 58, Window Cleaner, Kangaroo Flat
Oh yeah, Play School. There was Big Ted and Little Ted. There should've been Medium Ted. The windows changed my life. I became a window cleaner, but I still think about those windows. Sometimes I'll be on the top floor of the Bendigo Bank Building, and I'll just whisper to myself: 'Which window will we look through today?’
Sandra Wellings, 44, Accounts Manager, Strathfieldsaye
The craft activities were wild. They'd hold up a toilet roll, two buttons, and a piece of string and say, 'Today we're going to make an elephant.' Meanwhile, five-year-old me was thinking, 'That's not an elephant. That's just garbage. Actual garbage that kind of looks like a mammal.'
Jayden Hooper, 39, Barista, Eaglehawk
Play School? Nah, I was a Bananas in Pyjamas kid. Still am, actually. I've got Bananas in Pyjamas pyjamas. Genuine Bananas in Pyjamas pyjamas. Bought them in 1994 when I was seven. Obviously, they don't fit anymore."I actually tried to buy new Bananas in Pyjamas pyjamas a few years back, adult-sized Bananas in Pyjamas pyjamas, but apparently, there's no market for adult Bananas in Pyjamas pyjamas. I would buy Bananas in Pyjamas pyjamas tomorrow if they made Bananas in Pyjamas pyjamas in my size. It's freakin' bananas.
Margaret Purvis, 71, Retired, Long Gully
My favourite memory is when John and Benita made a rocket out of a juice bottle and a straw.
Col Babbage, 63, self-described 'ideas man', Golden Square
I'll tell you what I remember. Jemima. That rag doll. She just sat there, watching. Didn't move. Didn't blink. And yet she saw everything. I didn't trust her then, and I don't trust her now. The ABC owes us answers.
Darren Stubbs, 47, Electrician, White Hills
Mate, I cried when Noni Hazlehurst left. Properly cried. I was 11. My dad didn't know what to do. He just patted me on the shoulder and said, 'She's not dead, son, she's just doing other projects.' But it wasn't the same. It was never the same.
Emma Cartwright, 34, Graphic Designer, Quarry Hill
I went to that Play School Live concert in 2015, and it was genuinely one of the best nights of my life. I was 24 and surrounded by toddlers, and I didn't care. Big Ted came out, and I lost it. My boyfriend at the time said it was 'a lot.' We broke up shortly after. Unrelated, probably.
Ashleigh Morgan, 57, primary school teacher, Kennington
I remember the day Big Ted replaced Old Ted. One day he was there, the next day it was just Big Ted. No explanation. No farewell. They never spoke of Old Ted again. Just gone. Vanished. I know the feeling. My father did the same thing in 1978 - went out for cigarettes, and three months later, we had a new dad. Different bloke. Everyone acted as if nothing happened. I've never trusted bears since.
Derek Noon, 50, taxi driver, White Hills
It was always nearly time to go. Every episode. 'It’s nearly time to go.' But go where? Home? Into the void? The show just ended with no resolution, no closure. Just 'goodbye, see you next time.' My dad used to say that too. 'See you next time.' I haven’t seen him since 1991. He’s alive, apparently. Lives in Queensland now. Probably watching Play School with some other kid. Probably learning to tell the time.
