Earlier today, I returned to Brisbane from a lovely, two and a half day birthday weekend away; the first part of which entailed spending an evening with my father, step-mother, sister and girlfriend on my parents' one and a half acre property out at New Beith, which is just behind Beaudesert.
My father has never been the kind of man to do things by halves, and he is very much a human who enjoys his creature-comforts. Going out to visit them at their house is one my favourite escapes; not simply because their house is so homely and welcoming, and not just because their expansive and knowledgeable wine selection always takes a hearty beating on such visits - but because they are the nicest, most generous people that I know, and our lengthy and convoluted conversations are always so spiced with positivity, passion, humour and fond sentiments, that an evening with them always soothes whatever subconsciously ails me. Unfortunately, I am a mortal creature, and will freely admit that I all too often take their existence for granted; but with my impending move to Melbourne looming, as my girlfriend and I drove away from their lovely house on Sunday afternoon, the reality of that yearning physical distance came at me with such force that I'm unashamed to admit I cried for my love of them, and my gratitude at being blessed with such wonderful people in my life, and for all the future occasions of drinking and talking that won't be quite as frequent.
The second part of my weekend was to be a surprise.
When I awoke (reluctantly, and in great agony) on Sunday morning, my lovely girlfriend (who had been clever enough NOT to take (first)the butterscotch schnapps and (second)the ice-cold sambuca my father, in all his wisdom, deemed appropriate to proffer at the close of the night) pounced on me, shaking me enthusiastically while singing happy birthday. It was not the way I would've wished to greet the day, and despite her honorable sentiments, it would still take several hours, a few poached eggs, and many glasses of water interspersed with potent coffee before my ageing brains could solidify beneath the acidic bite of so much booze to even begin to contemplate anything other than crawling into the nearest hole and stuffing mud in my ears. Around about the time Tess began to realise that the hangover was a good 'un, doubt consumed her; "You're going to hate what I've got planned for you today," she half-joked. Palms pressed firmly into the sockets of my eyes, I mumbled from beneath the blankets, "I'm sure it will be perfect - unless you're taking me to a waterslide, bungee jumping, or anything to do with alcohol."
It was a brewery.
Now, I like to have a joke about my fondness for alcohol, but in all seriousness - drinking is one of my favourite pass-times. And in actuality, being taken to a brewery for my birthday is probably one of the most thoughtful things anyone could possibly do for me (I am certain that it is no accident my first name is the modern derivative of that old Greek demi-god of wine and festivity). Nonetheless, at first I thought she was joking - and when it became apparent that she wasn't, I sucked up as much good-will as I could muster and tried to feel both enthused at the notion of putting more alcohol into my shaking body, and grateful for the gift.
Thankfully, we arrived at the bed and breakfast shortly after the brewery had closed, and were content to spend the evening in a much more moderated way; with a beautiful meal at The Old Church (exactly as the name describes), before returning to our snug cottage at Camelot (nothing like the name describes) where we contented ourselves to playing grown-up by dressing in robes and lying on the divinely sumptuous bed while listening to jazz and eating a chocolate parfait the restaurant kindly made up us as a take-away.
This morning, we found ourselves much recovered from Saturday's excess, and took our lazy old time with returning to Brisbane. Although not technically my birthday, Tess was kind enough to allow me free reign of activities, and so at my child-like request, we made a bee-line for the famous glowworm caves, where I was ecstatic to find it nothing like what I had imagined.
Let me explain: as an ageing Gen-Y-er with my new-media job, remote-working situation, and plug-in, always online lifestyle, I have found in the last two years my expectations for 'entertainment' and 'experience' have crumbled beneath the seething weight of an Internet-induced fugue. It shocks me to say I spend upwards of 90% of my day staring at a computer screen, either "working", "entertaining," "socialising," or "educating" myself, i.e. editing corporate videos for Internet distribution, distracting myself with that's-actually-not-very-funny-or-clever-when-you-really-think-about-it memes, loathsome forums populated with the damnable opinions of idiots all the world round, or the mosquito-like buzzing of constant-ticker, doom-and-gloom news. I never wished, nor imagined I would permit myself to fall into such a mind-numbing loop; but unfortunately some rather dubious choices have lead me exactly thus. But, despite having such easy, all-hours access to the world of ever-buzzing distraction, today I was over the moon to be meet a fellow who lived and breathed glow-worms as if they were the cure for cancer (and, they actually are helping with that); but not only this - this Aussie as okka, khaki-clad, cigarette smelling, Steve Irwin mimic (and I mean that with extraordinary tenderness) was bloody entertaining!
You see, my initial imagining of the place was as literal as you could think it - glow-worm caves.
Yep - caves with worms. That glow.
Here I was thinking we'd go for a stroll through a cave, have a look-see, and then be on our merry way, having satisfied our minimal requirements for partaking in nature's evolutionary glory. What I was amazed to find was a complete environmental preserve set up around these incredible little insects, with real human beings who did not give a damn about the latest Internet fad, or 'content'. They were real people who made jokes, and were entertaining - actually entertaining - and not once during the thirty-minute tour did I doubt his sincerity.
I'm sure that ours was not the first, nor the last tour he would have taken through that day; yet he spoke every word with such a smile, with such natural enthusiasm, it was impossible not to grin back, and not to get more than a little excited about glowworms.
After we left the caves, we decided that it might be okay after all to drop in to the brewery for a small beer or two (lights, mind you); and our lunch consisted of a delicious cheese platter from the local cheese-makers.
It was, quite simply, the best birthday I've ever had.
But possibly the greatest thing of all happened when we got home.
A temperamental thing to begin with, in times of wet weather our Internet router becomes as dramatic as a Greek tragedy, dropping in and out of reception like a wailing chorus. When we arrived back in Brisbane, our Internet router refused to connect me to the World Wide Web for several hours, forcing me to find other things to do.
So I wrote this.
And I am thankful for that, because I thoroughly enjoyed it - I thoroughly enjoyed reliving the past two days in my memory as I wrote it, and I thoroughly enjoyed reminding myself of what it is that I truly value in life; and it has nothing to do with "connecting", or "communities", or "experience." It has to do with connecting, and community, and experience - in the real world.
And so I am going to make damned sure that I do more of it from now on.
My father has never been the kind of man to do things by halves, and he is very much a human who enjoys his creature-comforts. Going out to visit them at their house is one my favourite escapes; not simply because their house is so homely and welcoming, and not just because their expansive and knowledgeable wine selection always takes a hearty beating on such visits - but because they are the nicest, most generous people that I know, and our lengthy and convoluted conversations are always so spiced with positivity, passion, humour and fond sentiments, that an evening with them always soothes whatever subconsciously ails me. Unfortunately, I am a mortal creature, and will freely admit that I all too often take their existence for granted; but with my impending move to Melbourne looming, as my girlfriend and I drove away from their lovely house on Sunday afternoon, the reality of that yearning physical distance came at me with such force that I'm unashamed to admit I cried for my love of them, and my gratitude at being blessed with such wonderful people in my life, and for all the future occasions of drinking and talking that won't be quite as frequent.
The second part of my weekend was to be a surprise.
When I awoke (reluctantly, and in great agony) on Sunday morning, my lovely girlfriend (who had been clever enough NOT to take (first)
It was a brewery.
Now, I like to have a joke about my fondness for alcohol, but in all seriousness - drinking is one of my favourite pass-times. And in actuality, being taken to a brewery for my birthday is probably one of the most thoughtful things anyone could possibly do for me (I am certain that it is no accident my first name is the modern derivative of that old Greek demi-god of wine and festivity). Nonetheless, at first I thought she was joking - and when it became apparent that she wasn't, I sucked up as much good-will as I could muster and tried to feel both enthused at the notion of putting more alcohol into my shaking body, and grateful for the gift.
Thankfully, we arrived at the bed and breakfast shortly after the brewery had closed, and were content to spend the evening in a much more moderated way; with a beautiful meal at The Old Church (exactly as the name describes), before returning to our snug cottage at Camelot (nothing like the name describes
This morning, we found ourselves much recovered from Saturday's excess, and took our lazy old time with returning to Brisbane. Although not technically my birthday, Tess was kind enough to allow me free reign of activities, and so at my child-like request, we made a bee-line for the famous glowworm caves, where I was ecstatic to find it nothing like what I had imagined.
Let me explain: as an ageing Gen-Y-er with my new-media job, remote-working situation, and plug-in, always online lifestyle, I have found in the last two years my expectations for 'entertainment' and 'experience' have crumbled beneath the seething weight of an Internet-induced fugue. It shocks me to say I spend upwards of 90% of my day staring at a computer screen, either "working", "entertaining," "socialising," or "educating" myself, i.e. editing corporate videos for Internet distribution, distracting myself with that's-actually-not-very-funny-or-clever-when-you-really-think-about-it memes, loathsome forums populated with the damnable opinions of idiots all the world round, or the mosquito-like buzzing of constant-ticker, doom-and-gloom news. I never wished, nor imagined I would permit myself to fall into such a mind-numbing loop; but unfortunately some rather dubious choices have lead me exactly thus. But, despite having such easy, all-hours access to the world of ever-buzzing distraction, today I was over the moon to be meet a fellow who lived and breathed glow-worms as if they were the cure for cancer (and, they actually are helping with that); but not only this - this Aussie as okka, khaki-clad, cigarette smelling, Steve Irwin mimic (and I mean that with extraordinary tenderness) was bloody entertaining!
You see, my initial imagining of the place was as literal as you could think it - glow-worm caves.
Yep - caves with worms. That glow.
Here I was thinking we'd go for a stroll through a cave, have a look-see, and then be on our merry way, having satisfied our minimal requirements for partaking in nature's evolutionary glory. What I was amazed to find was a complete environmental preserve set up around these incredible little insects, with real human beings who did not give a damn about the latest Internet fad, or 'content'. They were real people who made jokes, and were entertaining - actually entertaining - and not once during the thirty-minute tour did I doubt his sincerity.
I'm sure that ours was not the first, nor the last tour he would have taken through that day; yet he spoke every word with such a smile, with such natural enthusiasm, it was impossible not to grin back, and not to get more than a little excited about glowworms.
After we left the caves, we decided that it might be okay after all to drop in to the brewery for a small beer or two (lights, mind you); and our lunch consisted of a delicious cheese platter from the local cheese-makers.
It was, quite simply, the best birthday I've ever had.
But possibly the greatest thing of all happened when we got home.
A temperamental thing to begin with, in times of wet weather our Internet router becomes as dramatic as a Greek tragedy, dropping in and out of reception like a wailing chorus. When we arrived back in Brisbane, our Internet router refused to connect me to the World Wide Web for several hours, forcing me to find other things to do.
So I wrote this.
And I am thankful for that, because I thoroughly enjoyed it - I thoroughly enjoyed reliving the past two days in my memory as I wrote it, and I thoroughly enjoyed reminding myself of what it is that I truly value in life; and it has nothing to do with "connecting", or "communities", or "experience." It has to do with connecting, and community, and experience - in the real world.
And so I am going to make damned sure that I do more of it from now on.