Euan Maclean's Mid-Year Report captures the beautiful contradiction that is life at Burgmann College. From lugging bar fridges up sweltering, un-air-conditioned stairwells during N-Week to dancing in the pouring rain at the St Patrick's Day mixer with Johns XXIII, Semester One has been anything but quiet.
The experience started arriving at Burgmann, lugging a wheel‑less 30kg suitcase and being instantly enchanted by flocks of colourful lorikeets and the unmistakable scent of eucalyptus from nearby tree‑cutting - kangaroos on the lawns came later. It felt like a true welcome to Australia.
Let me take you back to a relatively mild May evening in 2016 where Burgmann College was set to face Johns in yet another rugby league grand final. It had been 20 years since Burgmann last won the competition. Hair was braided, faces were painted, and some teeth were lost, as the women of Burgmann and Johns showed us all how the game should really be played.
Sunday, 9 June 1996. Willows Oval. A battle-hardened squad of rugby league diehards, forged through late-night training sessions and nourished by Helga's cooking, ran out against our rivals next door on Daley Road. What followed became Burgmann legend. Under the strategic genius of Supercoach Colin Bienke, the 1996 Grand Final team did what they set out to do — and did it memorably.
Every year, at an hour no reasonable person would call acceptable, Burgmann wakes up and does something wonderfully strange. Burg Day — now 55 years old — kicked off with a confession to patron saint St Beryl (bricks, apparently, will fall otherwise), before descending into a triathlon involving foundational bricks, a dip in Sullivan's Creek, and a stomach-churning concoction called Irongut.