Wish me luck

I’m off into the wilds.

Taking the youngest to a secret music festival has turned into quite the production.

The astronomically expensive self-inflating mattress has been accidentally purchased and placed in the boot of the car.

Pricey tickets have been procured.

Hundreds of dollars worth of groceries have been bought.

Mesh sock thingies have been sourced cheaply at Kmart so that I can have the windows wound down in the car while sleeping in it and not be eaten alive by mosquitos.

I have taken a day off work to pack the car and the esky and collect the youngest from school, then collect the youngest’s friend from her school, then collect the tent from the youngest’s friend’s house before we hit the road.

I will spend four hours clinging on for dear life during my first passenger seat trip with the youngest on a freeway.

Then I will take over the driving once we get to the dirt road bit and pray we arrive before dark.

I have bought four Archie Rose RTD cans to ease the pain of sitting in a camp chair watching live music before retiring to my uncomfortable bed.

I am not entirely looking forward to it, but its probably good to start with low expectations.

It has reminded me of the lengths my parents went to when I was obsessed with Split Enz.

My dad would lurk around outside venues and buy tickets from scalpers then suffer his way through gigs. My mum took me to the band’s final concert in Speers Point Park and bopped with the best of them in the front row.

I am pretty sure neither of them were keen to be there, but they bit the bullet because it mattered so much to me.

And who knows how many other opportunities I will have for a weekend away with the youngest, as she is super keen to escape Sydney at the earliest opportunity.

Catch you on the other side.

Song of the day: Talking Heads “Take me to the river”

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