A girls’ weekend away! Leaving straight from work on Friday and returning Sunday afternoon. How lucky is that?
Only possible for me because my husband was generous and wonderful enough to take the slack for a full weekend. I cannot thank him enough. He encouraged me to go. These chances are to be grasped and enjoyed to the full. No guilt, just pure gratitude!
A whole weekend with a lovely bunch of women. From country to city, a crazy convoy of fourteen women. A hotel in the centre, no children, no partners and a new world outside our windows. We ate, drank an elegant sufficiency (we have reached an age where we know our limits) and shopped.
Friday night, we ate new Australian cuisine in a restaurant with an industrial look. We have watched enough cooking and home improvement shows to know these things. Oohs and aahs were heard as we sampled the likes of pickled garlic, and edamame beans with miso sauce to name but two. We drank fancy wine and gave only a passing thought to the meat pies and rugby games we were missing. We feigned nonchalance as we paid what would normally cover the meal for our entire families but convinced ourselves that we were worth it.
Saturday morning, we breakfasted in a modern French inspired eatery with barely a mention of the football and netball games taking place without us. From there, we divided into groups: some shopped whilst others headed for manicures, facials and pedicures. My chosen escape was in retail therapy. What bargains were discovered!
Saving more than we spent was the aim as we supported the Australian economy to the best of our ability. The shopping gods bestowed their blessings on us. Sore feet and aching calves were ignored as we accumulated bags and marvelled at the wonders before us.
Saturday afternoon saw cocktails and tapas before we headed for a show. We giggled and laughed, living in the moment and taking pleasure in each other’s fun!
Hotel room kettles were boiled for cups of tea and giggles were heard from all the rooms as we relived the highlights of the day, before falling into a delicious sleep.
Sunday dawned and we took pictures of carefully crafted delicacies as we had breakfast in a patisserie. Our ‘roadies’ were little cakes, individual art works, to be eaten in the cars in the way home: a last moment of decadence before we rejoined our real lives, flicking the crumbs off, as we opened front doors.
I got home to the House of Testosterone and guess what? They survived without me! The house was tidy, washings had been done, noone had starved! My middle son has Type 1 diabetes and I often think of his diabetes as my fourth child. This fourth son had behaved, no tantrums or weird behaviour. His levels were good and noone had to get up during the night to check on him! My fourth child was an angel this weekend!