Most of my magazine mates have drifted away, as they do when you leave an industry. We “like” the occasional photo each other posts on Facebook, but that’s about it.
But I do love a catch up with the old crowd. All those years in the trenches together mean we speak each other’s manic language.
Two or three times a year I get together with Al and Jac for dinner. We do not take a breath. I reckon last night we gave each other updates on about 50 of our former/current/future colleagues.
New jobs, old jobs, babies, holidays, weddings, engagements, lawsuits, shock resignations, not-so-shocking ones …
It was VERY enlightening.
I met Al when she was Picture Editor on TV Week and Jac when she was Art Director on Woman’s Day.
I will never forget being in the TV Week office one afternoon and moaning that I’d promised to take my sister to Fiji for her 40th, but discovered it wasn’t the el cheapo destination I’d thought. My mum had gifted the Frequent Flyers for the air tickets and I was in charge of the accommodation. I was looking down the barrel of $600-$800 per night for two rooms. Tip for the naive: the mega specials only apply on PACKAGES.
Anyways, Al overheard me and announced: “I have a house in Fiji.”
It turned out her family owned a rustic cottage on a private beach on Mana Island that she said we could stay in for FREE. It was AWESOME. My sister and ex and I would sit on the sand watching the sun set each night with a glass of vino in hand, while the kids frolicked on the beach. So idyllic … until we left Mana and headed to Denarau Island, where the eldest got a virus and puked all over the bathroom floor of the hotel room and slipped in it and hit her head … not so idyllic …
I think the little cottage has been flattened by a cyclone since then. Sad face.
Jac was incredibly patient with me at Woman’s Day when I sat with her every Tuesday for hours on end, making 500 million adjustments to the cover and suggesting she put photoshopped smiles on wombats faces for Christmas covers featuring Bindi Irwin …
The wombat smile was a bit of a mistake … but you probably already guessed that.
Al, Jac and I are very spade-a-spade people. We tell it like it is, loudly and colourfully.
I miss working with them, even though there’s no way you’d tempt me back. Al is always trying to tempt me back, she’s a total addict.
We went to the North Sydney Leagues Club for dinner, which sounds a bit scary, but is almost posh these days. I had a fabulous nasi goreng and a nice glass of chardy. The poor bartender was probably wondering why the hell I was taking photos of him …
If a kid hadn’t puked copiously on the floor a few metres from us while we were eating, dinner would have been perfect. It’s a bit off-putting to be eating peas and carrots while accidentally seeing someone up-chuck theirs. My friends gave up on their schnittys after that, though I soldiered on with a few more mouthfuls of rice.
Hmmmm …. two chunder anecdotes in one blog post ..: tasteful.
Anyways, I’m feeling much, much better than I was 24 hours ago, and not just because there was chardy involved. Being with kindred spirits gets me naturally high.
It was such a fun night, just what the doctor ordered.
And to top it all off, both kids messaged me separately from the snow to say they were having fun and ask what I’d been up to. I don’t know if their dad put them up to it, but I was very touched.
Song of the day: The Angels “Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again” (it was playing in the car on the way home)