There are some days when a walk and company are all that is needed.
There are days when the best company is none at all.
There are days when you decided to stay, have one more glass of wine with a friend. To walk, leaving the car to be collected the next day. You head through their garden, out the back gate and down the road to home.
That’s right ladies and gentlemen the event that bombarded twitter feeds, facebook and instagram has come to an end for another year. The Digital Parents Conference held this year in Melbourne has packed its overflowing swag bag, put sunglasses shakily on tried eyes and gone home for a nice long nap.
What happens when you put two hundred or so social media savvy people in one room is a whole lot of learning and a whole lot of fun. There are discussions, there are workshops, there are networking lunches. There is a dinner dance. With karaoke. And a photobooth. And a chocolate fountain.
Sleep is a great thing, and it would seem not having it renders me next to useless. Daylight savings began yesterday, as luck would have it, and this meant I could crawl into bed at 7pm and it was already dark. My family were the most relieved about this I’d imagine, a grumpy mother and wife is only bearable for so long.
I have already written a serious post about the conference. But feel I need to document my survival tactics to look back on next year.
This may be the single most important thing to pack. Do not leave home without it.
The best way to get there is by truck carrying a precious cargo of swag bags. And a suitcase with berocca. And your blogging buddy Kirrily. And her Hubby. And a giant bunny.
When you arrive early with the swag bags and your hotel room isn’t ready, a Bunny needs coffee.
Hotel staff can be most obliging, they will carry your bags, find trolleys, and date your bunny.
If you’re going to tell people you’re ‘just tired’ best not have photographic evidence of you downing another wine.
For a smoother re-entry into society I strongly suggest booking a table at your local Chinese restaurant. It’s best for everyone.
A huge thank you to the amazing team, Brenda, Trae, Kirrily, Maria who organised this event, you are legends.
To Laney from Crash Test Mummy thanks for fantastic pre-conference drinks at Melbourne Wine Room and to Alta Wines for some lovely wine.
To Pip from Meet me at Mikes, sorry for going all fan girl on you and gushing about your daughter’s amazing wedding.
To Fe from Lumsdaine Photography, you are beautiful, and thanks for teaching me how to be a duck and a chicken and look fantastic on photographs.
To those of you I met, who spoke to me in such personal ways about my blog, thank you so much, it was humbling.
Ditto those who spoke to me about this post which I read in the Mother Tongue session.
To my homies. I love you all. You know who you are. xxx
This weekend I’ll be heading back. Back to a place I once called home. Back to a place I was desperate to leave and swore I’d never return to. Back to a town I went to school in, swam at beaches in, had crushes on boys and ran out of daily as I trained for athletics. Running, always running.
The scene of blue light discos, riding in cars, too much Southern Comfort and cigarettes. A place I am sure my love of dresses began, with a purchase from the surf shop. A place that, for better or worse, has a part of me. A place that taught me hatred and injustice through a story that is not mine alone to tell. But also acceptance, and how to be myself a little. Just a little. Sewing the seeds that would grow, slowly into an idea and a way of being.
This is the town I ran away to, kind of. I moved there with my family. Away from a school that had me pegged and labeled. This new town was a fresh start, a way for me to be on the front foot right from the get go. A school and a town where I could be anyone, even myself if I wanted to be. My only regret was leaving Best Pam. But, like we always did, always do, we found a way and kept in touch.
This weekend I’ll be going to the wedding of a friend from that school. A high school we left in 1987, eyes on the next phase, heads full of ideas, hair full of bad perms. I will be staying in the main street I once walked. Looking out over a beach I took for granted. I may, if I am lucky, even see some of the girls I once babysat, now grown and leading lives of their own.
I don’t know how I will feel when I get there. And that unsettles me. Will I feel hate and hurt for deeds done and past. Or a nothingness – which I wonder and worry might be worse than feeling hate. Or will I just be happy to be there and see how the old town has changed, grown? The latter I hope.
What I do know for sure though, is that I’ll have my friends by my side, that there will be laughter and happiness and love. That I will be happiness itself in a tea-dress, and that jazz hands will be out.
So perhaps that’s what I’ll focus on. Friendship. And perhaps that’s what I’ll feel when I’m there, that’s what I’ll remember as I pass by the places I went, the house I lived in. And perhaps, after all, the town will have something else to tell me, something else to teach me, perhaps as the waves crash, and the sea air washes over me, this old town will remind me we all are loved, every one of us. So think on that, and forget the rest. Breathe out over the sea and let it go once and for all.
Some weeks end on a nigh note. Helping you see the world through a happy lens. Helping you remember to breathe, smile a little, laugh… this week ended in such a way. And I’m glad it did.
Sometimes getting off the work, home treadmill is just what was needed, even though you were not really aware it’s what you were looking for. Last night ~ Friday~ was one such night. Together with two friends we ventured into our beautiful Melbourne for dinner and to see a night of Paul Kelly’s A-Z tour.
So, this week I’m grateful for a lift out of the everyday. For the chance to see a wonderful story teller, musician and singer/song writer who is, as one friend said, food for the soul. Im grateful it was in a small theatre, with red velvet seats, a well worn rail to lean on, and a relaxed crowd. I’m also grateful for the theatre’s bar, which sold bottles of wine, so we sat, mesmerised, with cool white wine in a glass and a bottle at our feet.
I’m grateful to be living in a city I love, by day and by night, and for a friend who knows where the good coffee is… and the good macarons and pastries.
And I’m grateful for good friends, where conversation flows easily, as does the laughter.
This post is part of Maxabella’s weekend grateful. Have a wonderful weekend where ever you are.
