All the hairs on my arms stood on end yesterday as I discussed the Kathleen Folbigg case with my old school mates.
They’d just been to the jail for a morning visit with Kathy. We met for brunch by the river, before heading back to the jail for an afternoon visit.
I was floored by how huge it’s beginning to feel as we count down to the inquiry in March. The evidence in Kathy’s favour is beginning to pile up and there’s a giddy desire to allow a glimmer of hope that the scales of justice will balance.
There wasn’t time to process my emotions before heading into the visitors’ room, where we chatted about everything from the mundane to the life changing.
Kathy told us about savouring her first taste of fresh cream in 16 years when a prison staff member gave her a slice of sponge cake.
The tears unexpectedly flowed as I was driving home and the enormity of it all swept over me.
Not for me but for Kathy.
My friend Tracy started her drive down from the North Coast at 1am yesterday morning so she could be there for the 8am visit. She collected Megz on the way. Following the afternoon visit, they started the trek back, with Tracy spending the night in Newcastle to break the journey.
It’s been a leaky eye kinda weekend. I almost wept on Saturday too, as I swam with DD at Bilgola Beach and looked up at the cliff where a 15-year-old lost his life the previous day.
The Pittwater High student’s body was found below the headland between Bilgola and Newport at about 9am on Friday.
Four children — one a family member — found the body.
I don’t know why it hit me so hard, perhaps because I have a 15-year-old myself.
A message popped up in my Facebook feed at dawn on the Friday morning. The mum made a desperate plea for the community to join her as she searched for her missing son at first light. A mutual friend had shared it in my newsfeed.
Seeing her desperate words, knowing she’d spent a sleepless night fearing for her boy, made it feel achingly real.
It was bittersweet that my swim in the surf was glorious, the best I’ve had all summer. The water was warm, the waves were kind and we stayed in until our fingers were wrinkled.
The weekend was book ended with special stuff. On the Friday night DD and I had dinner at Neil Perry’s Spice Temple restaurant, using a voucher my sister and her husband gave us for Christmas.
We had a lovely night nibbling on prawn and scallop spring rolls and pork belly salad. I got DD to take a selfie of me and was appalled to think he was sitting across from someone who looked like this …
I thought I looked more like this selfie I snapped on Saturday after our swim …
DD gave a speech at the party. He was best man at the wedding and resurrected snippets from his original speech, interspersed with wisdom from Dr Seuss and the Internet.
He’s pretty fabulous with speeches for a bloke who doesn’t talk much.
Being middle aged in a heatwave, we’d lost out puff by 10pm, kissed the happy couple goodnight and grabbed an Uber home.
Our wild partying days are over … but we still need the public holiday to recover … hope you’re having a relaxed one too.