Voices

Ambermere’s secrets: from home to hospital

By Marnie

Jul 20, 2026

Marnie’s family visiting the Rhododendron Gardens, Olinda 1995. Photo by Contributed

If it takes a village to raise a child, it is certainly taking a city to tell Ambermere’s story.

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Our major problem, last week, was that we were unable to put dates on Mr Morrison’s ownership (the second owner).

Exactly when did the home become a hospital?

However, about the time my phone started to ring, I had found a single line in Geoffery Nice’s valuable book.

He had written that the Mooroopna Hospital purchased Ambermere in 1951 “to ensure it remained a hospital”.

I had callers telling me they were born in Ambermere from 1940 to 1948.

And one lady reported that she had had an appendix operation there in the late 1940s.

In addition, there was some confusion with Una Hospital.

So, did Mr. Morrison live in the house until 1940?

Probably not!

We were guessing and Mr Google and AI weren’t helping much.

Every time I searched for information, it conflicted with what we believed we knew, at this stage; two nurses leased it in 1951 and two different nurses leased it in 1948.

Then on yet another Google search, I found a government report about Ambermere being a psychiatric hospital – much later on.

However, it opened with this statement: “In the late 1920s, the private home Ambermere, at Shepparton, became a private hospital.”

This makes sense and doesn’t contradict anything else.

I’m guessing that we do not have a reader born in Ambermere earlier than this!

In addition to all of this, there was a typo in last week’s column.

I had typed 2010 instead of 1910 — and this even confused some of the team members! Totally my fault and I apologise.

Thank you.

We wouldn’t have got this close without you.

Now to AI

It must be four years since I wrote about AI.

I had listened to our middle son and watched the videos he recommended, I didn’t know much; except I knew enough to realise what a threat this thing could be — without morals or emotions.

With my rose-coloured glasses firmly attached, I believed in our world leaders.

Surely they would know what to do? Nothing happened for at least 12 months, but then, I saw a television report that these world leaders were about to meet, on AI.

I waited and watched but couldn’t find any information on the meeting.

Recently I read about a teenage boy, who ‘chatted’ with AI about suicide.

The boy asked if he should warn his parents, by leaving a rope in his bedroom. Apparently, AI advised that he just get on with what he wanted to do.

The boy killed himself — and this information was on his laptop.

(Please don’t think too long about this!)

However, it is possible that this young man’s death affected our prime minister – it certainly affected me.

Last week, the prime minister announced a program to control this thing.

He says we can be leading the world by getting the best out of AI and eliminating the worst.

This should have happened years ago, but better late than never.

I’m sure you join me in wishing him every success.

A month or so ago, our grandchildren decided they were bored with email and set up WhatsApp.

I just noticed that 10 of our readers, who happen to be on my contact list, have also set up to talk with family and friends.