I’ll tell you a story.
We went to Melbourne for a couple of days. For the last three years I’ve gone around this time, to watch tennis. Who’d have thought, before that, that I’d ever go to the Australian Open? I’ve seen Federer up close and personal three times now – how lucky am I? The luck of the draw…
Both the girls came with me this time, and my son in law.
Youngest and I flew off together. We took our anxiety with us. On the hottest day in Sydney’s history (46.4C or 115.5F) we walked through that tin can that connects terminal to plane, only just without fainting. She brought her illness with her, and both our fears around that came along. The others flew further south by mistake – I hope they enjoyed the minibus through the country, some nice world out those windows..
Boom, as son in law would say, the hotel was amazing! A famous aussie’s art all over the place, welcoming staff, and a great location. Youngest wants to stay there whenever we go to Melbourne now, I think I’ll stay for a month one year, if I outlast mother. So this is what they call a ‘boutique’ hotel
We ate out, while youngest watched. That was the low point. Booked a celebrity chef’s restaurant months ago, before the diagnosis. Both girls love ‘Masterchef’ and meeting George would have iced it. He wasn’t in and his staff, though oh so attentive and primed to the situation, didn’t quite hit it with something youngest could eat. Hit home to her, and to me, that she can probably never just go to a restaurant and order from the menu again. In – her – whole – life. Low.
Melbourne has such a different feel from Sydney. European? Cosmopolitan? I was reminded of Italy in some parts.. It’s just lovely and we did a lot, we did have fun, we went non stop.
Little one was very sick the night we came home. Thud. Back to reality. Doctor for her and work for me. Back in the swing now, she’s relaxed again and, after three huge days of work, we’re heading to the beach this weekend.
Life sounds pretty good eh? We all have things though…you know that.