My wife lured me to our new suburb after years of inner-city living. It was a trick

2 weeks ago 3

Opinion

September 1, 2025 — 7.00pm

“You want to move where?”

This was my response when my wife said she would like to move to Canterbury.

As someone born in working-class north-west London and who later settled in Melbourne’s inner western suburbs (way before they were trendy), the eastern suburbs were a foreign land.

We’d moved five years earlier into a lovely double-storey Victorian terrace that could be found in map 1A of the Melway. I thought it was our forever home. But once the children came along, we were swayed by the myth that a big backyard was a requirement for good parenting.

I could sort of cope with most of the “joys” of inner-city living (people vomiting in your tiny front yard, lack of parking, having the security bars on your windows inspected by random strangers, etc). However, when I saw a couple of guys shooting up outside our kitchen window, I conceded it was time to go.

Even 25 years ago, real estate was stressful. We were way off the mark for a lot of places we were interested in, and settled on trying our hand at two properties auctioned an hour apart on the same day. With the first place, the opening bid – much higher than the advertised range – was beyond our absolute top price.

Disheartened, we grabbed a coffee at one of the many cafes down Maling Road and went to the second auction just for sport. Despite the morning’s defeat, we threw in what we thought was a joke bid. We were stunned when we somehow actually got it. I broke into a cold sweat, convinced we must have missed something wrong with the place.

That it had been a rental for decades, with matted green shag pile carpet, paper lampshades, 1940s wiring and plumbing, probably helped our cause.

My wife had convinced me that all the good bits of inner-city living (mainly decent coffee, cafes) were still available by taking me to Maling Road on a Saturday afternoon, where I was charmed by the cafes and boutiques. However, once we moved in, I found out that the place was deserted after 5pm, apart from one very good fish and chip shop.

I felt like I needed a visa to be here. I had no idea of the streets or amenities and was very much outside my comfort zone. I remember being in my grungy overalls and picking up a $10 note an older lady had dropped. On handing it back to her, the way she took it, you’d think I was contagious. Or maybe I was just projecting how alien I felt.

There was a decided lack of diversity in Canterbury at the time, and we sensed a touch of racism as my wife was labelled “Chinese” (she is Vietnamese). One nearby resident was apparently so incensed by Asian residents that he posted nasty letters and splashed paint on the letter box and intercom of his neighbours. The police were called, and he confessed. When he died, his house was sold ... to a Chinese family.

However, we soon found out that, unlike our previous place – where the surprises were crisis centres, drug houses and poor transport – our surprises here were secret parks, community centres, great public transport options, good schools and beautiful tree-lined streets with well-maintained houses.

As friends who visit often say, this is a “picture postcard suburb” due to the heritage overlays. There is a harmony that is hard to match – you won’t find any rainbow-painted houses, tacked-on additions or three-metre-high fences around here.

It’s not uncommon to see film crews shooting in the area. It’s not a recent trend – the original house in The Sullivans was here in Milton Street and used for filming in the late ’70s and early ’80s. It was demolished a few years after filming wrapped up and replaced with townhouses, but you can still find the old milk bar that played the part of the A&J Sullivan’s store on Matlock Street.

Historic Maling Road is a destination in itself. Groups from retirement homes head there for a Devonshire tea and can dream they’re visiting an English village. My daughter even had an excursion down the road in primary school. The village has it all: a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker (well, shops where you can buy candles). The butcher, Bennetts, has been going for seven generations – since 1854. There’s a greengrocer, a mini IGA, and more. Of particular interest to me are the boutique toy stores (perfect for spoiling grandkids).

And that’s not all. Perhaps the most telling change is that there is now a wine bar on Maling Road, an amazing development for a suburb that was for almost 100 years part of a “dry” zone. Some of the cafes now do dinner also, so it is no longer a ghost strip after 5pm.

Like me at first, many people have no idea where Canterbury is. I often say we are in Camberwell (people confuse the two suburbs all the time). Otherwise they seem to think you follow Canterbury Road from its start in Camberwell – after about 30 kilometres east, you end in Canterbury! In reality, Canterbury is much closer, about 10 kilometres from the CBD at the city end of Canterbury Road.

We have everything we need here in Canterbury. Residents are very well-catered for with school options – Camberwell Grammar, Camberwell Girls Grammar and Camberwell High (all in Canterbury) as well as Canterbury Girls’ Secondary College and Strathcona Girls Grammar. Siena College was carefully carved out from our suburb, so it sits just over the border in Camberwell. Nearby, we also have the Kew private school cluster (MLC, Xavier, Carey, Trinity etc) and others such as Genazzano FCJ.

Sports grounds and clubs are plenty and the standout for me is Camberwell Hockey Club (all our children played hockey). Public transport is excellent, with trams, buses, and three nearby train stations: Canterbury, East Camberwell, and Riversdale. Alongside boutique shops and supermarkets, you’ll find every health service you might need, from GPs and dentists to allied and alternative therapies. Just around the corner is Camberwell with its shops, bars and restaurants, as well as the famous Sunday market.

Given its modest size, Canterbury has had its fair share of famous residents. The Minogue sisters grew up in Alexandra Avenue and went to Camberwell High School here. Kylie later gifted her parents a house on Monomeath Avenue, a street that has also been home to Sir Rupert Hamer, Andrew Peacock and a number of Australia’s top chief executives.

I cannot think of any downsides to the suburb … apart from the high cost of the real estate, especially in the so-called Golden Mile along the suburb’s north-west edge. Unfortunately, our children, who also love the area, know it is unlikely that they will be able to afford to live here in the future.

The biggest change I’ve seen is the growing diversity. On one side, our neighbours are Chinese and the other side were part of the squattocracy (I think), and they are both lovely. Our local restaurant, Wildflower, once serving contemporary Western cuisine, has been replaced by a Chinese eatery, Yu & Restaurant. Suffice to say my “Chinese” wife is no longer made to feel out of place.

Our family loves living in Canterbury. I have become familiar with all the streets and amenities and become “easternised”; if I see a nature strip unmown or a garden neglected or a house in disrepair, I feel profaned!

I’ll be forever grateful for the chance to raise a family here, to find belonging among tree-lined streets, and to call this little slice of postcard suburbia our own. We thought we were just tossing in a joke bid. Instead, we found our home.

Paul Dover is a retired resources manager and house husband.

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