Day three started late, thank God. A leisurely breakfast heavy on grease and coffee was enjoyed on George St before applying our combined mad tetrus skills to fit Paul, Nick Bart and myself plus associated luggage into the Getz before fleeing to the airport. It was a close thing. Between the need to refuel the rental and Paul’s desire to see the Kingsford Smith memorial we barely made it to the gate in time. Seriously, they were calling our names over the PA and we were the last people to board.
And that was it. I received a relatively soft return to reality. The house was empty and quiet, until it wasn’t. Big hugs ensued from Jane and the shorties.
A couple of reflections on the weekend…
Brisbane is my road not taken. I didn’t leave because I don’t like Brisbane. I left because it was that time of life where I got an offer for bigger and better things that could simply not be had by staying in Brisbane. As a result, for me Brisbane exists in a moment of splendid isolation, unsullied by the more mundane aspects of my life over the last many years. I have never changed a dirty nappy in Brisbane, argued with my wife in Brisbane or hated my (current and far more real) job in Brisbane. Obviously if I had stayed reality would have tarred Brisbane just as it has Canberra. But I left, so Brisbane remains impossibly shiny in my 20/20 hindsight and so long as I only make brief visits filled with good fun and mates it will stay that way.
I didn’t even come close to seeing everyone I would have liked or catching up with everyone I saw. I probably could have been there for twice as long and still not been satisfied. So trust me folks, if I didn’t get to see you, I am sorry. If I saw you and we didn’t really get a chance to talk, I am sorry. And if we had a chance to talk, I really wish it had been for longer.
There are a lot of people up there that I miss. That isn’t going to change anytime soon. Facebook, blogs online gaming, etc all of these things are nice, but its not even close to a lazy afternoon on Caxton St with beers and laughs flowing freely.
Take care all, I very much hope to see you again in 2012.
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It's a fucker, innit? Choices get made. Things and people get left behind.
ReplyDeleteBriz left its mark on me too, naturally. And walking away from all of that to be where I am, doing what I'm doing... well.
The kids are wonderful, and the life is fine. And in truth, you can't go on waking up grossly hungover on somebody else's sagging verandah with an equally hungover newly-met companion cutting off circulation in your arm every morning. It's fun, but it's not growth; not progress -- it's not real.
Grant yourself this much, Mister Jay; yes, and grant it to me as well: while we played, we played goddam hard, and we were very bloody good. And now that neither of us has time to live that way any more,let us both be good fathers, good friends, and good men.
Amen mate. Can't hope for much better than that.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully put.
ReplyDeleteAnd we are not pillars of society and/or dead yet.
I for one don't intend to turn 40 without some jelly in the ol' wading pool.