Chris Bath smiling
She has interviewed Presidents, Prime Ministers and popstars, with a career highlight 
tangoing to AC/DC under a mirror ball in the grand final of "Dancing With The Stars".

Chris Bath has been a journalist and news reporter/anchor since 1988 when she started her career at Radio 2UE, Sydney.

Over the next eight years, she worked reporting and reading news at Prime TV Albury & then NBN TV Newcastle, before the Seven Network headhunted her in 1996.

Chris spent 20 years at Seven, hosting her own shows, most recently "Sunday Night", and reading network news. She became the anchor for live rolling network coverage of breaking news events from floods to earthquakes, mine disasters, bushfires and bombings, elections and political coups, several Olympic Games, Royal weddings and more.

Her jack of all trades abilities saw her MC the prelude to the Sydney Olympics Opening Ceremony live on stage, and have taken her around the world. Chris has interviewed Presidents, Prime Ministers and popstars, people caught up in extraordinary tragedies and triumphs, and even tangoed to AC/DC under a mirror ball in the grand final of "Dancing With The Stars".

Chris is currently a gun for hire, more recently filling in as Drive host on Sydney's ABC 702 and reporting and hosting "The Project" for the Ten Network, along with freelance writing. She is also an accomplished MC, facilitator and media trainer.

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Chris is an accomplished MC. She has run proceedings before tens of thousands at the Sydney Olympic Stadium for the Opening Ceremony Prelude, and at awards nights, conferences and dinners for the corporate sector. Thanks to her years of live TV and radio experience, Chris can make everything run smoothly.
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After nearly 30 years as a journalist, Chris can interview anyone, from any walk of life, on any topic with warmth, intelligence and respect.
Panel facilitator
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Federal election panel facilitation live on TV is probably the toughest it'll ever get. Chris has wrangled panels including Jeff Kennett, Christopher Pyne, Graham Richardson, Bob Katter, Bronwyn Bishop, Paul Howes, Alexander Downer and more. She says anything else is a breeze.
Media & Presentation
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Chris and her husband, journalist Jim Wilson together run media and presentation training sessions tailored to suit requirements. This can vary from how to be an effective communicator in interviews, to understanding what the media wants, to how to read an Autocue. Between them, Chris and Jim, have 60 years combined experience across all media platforms.

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Confessions of a mother learning to cut the apron strings
The Daily Telegraph May 17, 2014

I had a lesson in cutting the apron strings on the weekend. The manchild was off to the football, given the green light to head out to Spotless Stadium, parent-free, with three of his mates to watch the GWS Giants play the Gold Coast Suns.

I left him bolting for the station, looking like he was 40 years too late to join the Orange People, decked out in his precious Mumford jersey and the rest of his Giants clobber, with a sack full of extra bits and pieces bobbing on his back - "in case the boys need some, Mum."

He was catching a train to meet his friends further down the line and then continue on to Sydney Olympic Park. He was beyond excited.

I was fine with it all - well, mostly.

His dash for the station began at 2.45pm. By 3.16pm I was calling to check he had made the train OK. No answer. Voicemail.

3.19pm, tried again. No answer. Voicemail.

At 3.34pm, I texted: "Did you get the train OK?" No reply.

Had he dropped his phone? Had he been mugged by an errant Gold Coast Suns supporter lost in Sydney's train system? Maybe taken by aliens? Scenarios were building in my head.

3.40pm. Another text: "Can you text me when you get to the ground please so I know you are OK?" No reply. Another call. More voicemail.

Right. Ring his father. "Have you heard from him?"


"I just want to know he made the train OK."

"Ah, he's probably with his mates having a good time."

"Yes I know. But I want to hear from him and I stupidly didn't tell him to text me when he got there and he could've fallen over because I made him run for the train because he was going to miss it dawdling and what if he lost his phone and what if he is lying bleeding unconscious and he hasn't any ID and nobody knows to contact us and what if he has been ABDUCTED BY ALIENS."

"OK, I'll try to call him now."

At this point it occurred to me that in 1973, aged 6, I was walking a kilometre to and from school without my parents. By 12, I was regularly arriving home alone from school, changing, then racing to catch a bus from Jersey Rd, South Wentworthville to Parramatta Station, then walking the kilometre or so down Church Street to St Andrews Church Hall to attend the Wendy Greenaway School of Ballet, where my parents would pick me up three hours later. And all this, alone and without a mobile phone.

How did my parents cope? (Mum, if you're reading this, stop smirking, Maureen!)

Have I become one of those hovercraft or helicopter whatsit mothers? My son is now 15, so far a totally responsible, fully functioning teenager with reasonable intelligence and initiative, who hasn't even shown signs of entering the grunting phase yet.

Besides, he has been in more dangerous situations when he has been with me, like when we went accidentally birdwatching through a crocodile nesting site or when we hiked like tightrope walkers along narrow Balinese rice paddy walls hunting for eels in the dark with locals when he was six, without realising we were on the edge of a ravine. (Whoops, Mummy!)

So what was with the panic? We'd only been talking that morning about how his school is giving the Year 10 kids more independence and how much he is loving it. I told him it was because the school trusted them to be responsible. If the school could do it, why was I gripping those apron strings so hard?

And then the mobile went. BING. Scramble for phone.

4.20pm, "Just got here."

Exhale. Breathe.

Cool as a cucumber I text back. "That's great. Just wanted to check you were OK. Have a great time. Text me later when you are on your way home... or whenever you like."

"Will do."

Five words from him. Fifty worst case scenarios dispelled for me. And I realised that this parenting gig is an evolution. I haven?t had other kids to practise on, so I will always be learning on the job.

The weekend lesson for me was that he needs me as a consultant now, rather than a fulltime tie-up-your-shoelaces-spoon-feed-you-mashed-potato parent. My weekend epiphany was that teen parenting is about love and trust as much as it is about letting go, letting those apron strings fray just a little bit, for your own sanity... and theirs.

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