Mr ALBANESE (Grayndler—Prime Minister) (14:01): I move: That the House record its deep regret at the death, on 28 November 2024, of the Honourable Thomas Eyre Forrest Hughes AO KC, a former Minister and Member of this House for the Division of Parkes from 1963 to 1969, and the Division of Berowra from 1969 to 1972, place on record its appreciation of his long and meritorious public service, and tender its profound sympathy to his family in their bereavement. It takes considerable effort to fill a century of life to capacity, yet Tom Hughes certainly managed it. In his 101 years, he gave us many remarkable chapters, each revealing another aspect of a man of wit, intellect, courage, conviction and curiosity. The son of a decorated World War I flying ace, Tom served in the Second World War as a RAAF flying boat pilot both as a protector and as a hunter. Yet, when France bestowed on him the Legion of Honour, Tom characteristically downplayed his contribution to the war effort as, to quote him, 'rather minimal'. He loved French history—a passion for the past that was balanced by his exuberance for living in the present. He loved Sydney Harbour in all its light and beauty, just as he loved being on his property, Bannister Station, gathering firewood from his paddocks. Tom was a complete master of the courtroom. As he took on and habitually won a production line of defamation cases, it became hard to imagine a head upon which a traditional wig looked more at home. Of course, he took on the power and responsibility of serving his country in parliament, first as the Liberal member for Parkes, guided to victory by an astute young campaign manager called John Howard, and then for Berowra. His crowning glory in politics was as Attorney-General under a fellow RAAF veteran, Prime Minister John Gorton. With the Vietnam War still raging, it was not a time free of turbulence. Charged with enforcing the National Service Act, Tom once greeted anticonscription protesters on his driveway with a strong visual hint in the form of a cricket bat in his hands. He was far ahead of the curve when he spoke publicly in favour of decriminalising homosexuality in 1970. He paved the way for improved trade practices legislation, as well as for expanded powers over the continental shelf and Australia's territorial waters—all groundwork subsequently taken up by the Whitlam government. When political life drew to a close, the New South Wales Bar Association called Tom home once more. Amid it all, Tom developed something of a reputation for ferocity, a reputation that was both celebrated and feared, and crowned with the nickname Frosty. Yet what always stood tallest was Tom's family and their enduring bonds of love. There's a photo in one of the obituaries of Tom with a young Lucy the morning after he was first elected to parliament in 1963. It captures a tender moment between father and daughter, one on which no mere election had the power to intrude. I welcome all of Tom's loved ones who have joined us here today. His beloved wife Christine Hughes; his daughter and son-in-law, Lucy and Malcolm Turnbull—who I was able to welcome into my office earlier today—and, in the gallery, his son Tom Hughes, as well as Greg Hughes, Henry Wright and Georgina Arthur. You are all very welcome guests here. Even in Tom's absence, may his presence always loom large in your lives. As Tom himself once put it: It's been a long life, but I've been very, very lucky. Australia was certainly lucky to have him. May he rest in peace.