Too old for this

It’s been a big few days. Huge.

The action kicked off with the eldest striking for climate change in a hand-painted Springsteen on fire T-shirt.

I waved my budding activist off and headed to my work Christmas party. It was at The Fernery, where I scored a free glass of Lanson bubbly because it was the venue’s first birthday. Cheers!

My workmate Gaye shares a photo credit for the gallery below:

Tip: don’t get the crab linguine, it was very whatever, but I thought the nibbles were yum.

It was such a glorious day for a celebration, but I missed dessert because I’d promised to collect the youngest and her hefty tenor saxophone from school to make up for abandoning her the previous evening, when I accidentally partied at Tequila Mockingbird until 10.30pm.

Well, that was the plan, but the traffic had other ideas. It took me more than an hour to make the 20 minute journey and the youngest ended up catching the bus.

Ooops.

The eldest arrived home underwhelmed by activism because some kid played the clarinet on stage between speeches. They felt the clarinet wasn’t an instrument well suited to rabble rousing.

I ferried the youngest to saxophone lesson, then headed to Central to collect the eldest’s friend Bill for the Radiator Hospital gig at The Chippo.

The folk at The Chippo were so nice and helpful – we were ushered downstairs for the gig, where I discovered there were actually four bands performing and I wasn’t getting home any time soon.

The kids had a blast. Mum thought it was OK – she probably had more fun people watching than band watching.

There were lots of cheerful, dorky twentysomethings swaying in the room with their various tattoos, rag-tag clothes and brightly dyed hair. Hardly any alcohol was being consumed and the vibe was super chill and friendly.

Actually, there weren’t “lots” of dorky twentysomethings, it was more like a few generous handfuls. I have no idea how the venue was paying all those bands when there were lucky to be 50 people in the room that weren’t in one of the acts or dating a band member.

I was feeling pretty shattered when I struggled out of bed on Saturday morning to do my weekly mums’ walk. Then I headed to the Cosmo wake at the Golden Sheaf Hotel.

More about the wake tomorrow, but I had a sentimental weep as I drove through the Harbour Tunnel and up to the Northern Beaches for The Warrior Christmas Party.

The Warrior is DD’s personal trainer. He also puts lots of famous sportspeople through their paces. His Christmas party – event managed by DD – included a workout while DD’s son’s band performed a live soundtrack.

Fortunately, I was exempt from exertion because I was the official, bleary-eyed photographer.

Again, more about that later in the week, because otherwise this blog post will be forever and a day long.

However, lots of lovely pink wine was consumed and I was in bed at 8.30pm.

Luckily I’d paid a local teenager to be dogsitter and let the fur babies out for their bedtime wee.

I tottered down from DD’s place at 6.30am on Sunday morning to let the dogs out for their morning wee, headed to the gym with my friend Alice, gave her a birthday hug, then went for a walk in the intense heat with my sister.

I was half dead by the time I arrived home at 10.30am. But there were chores to be done, so off I wobbled.

Fortunately, the day ended absolutely beautifully. I had a swim at Avalon Beach, followed by fish and chips and Croser on DD’s deck as the cool change arrived. Sooooo nice.

But I’m freaking knackered.

I really need to slow down – I’m not sure the “sleep when I’m dead” theory still holds water at 50.

I’d like another weekend, please, so I can recover from the last.

Hope your weekend was a good ‘un.

Song of the day: Bon Jovi “Sleep when I’m dead”

 

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