I have a post all written up about my adventures in Beechworth but I can’t post it yet because I only took the photos off my camera last night and given that this occurred at around 11pm after Wind Symphony rehearsal and that my alarm was set to go off at 6am for work the next day, I unreasonably decided to call it a night and come back to the photos later. And seriously, how long was that sentence? I kept looking for a spot to interrupt and set down a tactful full-stop but it just didn’t happen.
Anyway, it’s been almost a week since my last post (although this is understandable, given that the Easter long weekend occurred in the middle of it) and I just feel like writing something. Too often, I’ll find something else to do instead of writing a blog post, even though the thing I most want to do is to write a blog post. This is one thing I’ll never understand about myself: for some reason, I always seem to stop myself from doing the things I most desire to do. The conversations in my head go a little like this:
Me: Oooh, I should finish the hem of my skirt and then I can wear it to work the next day.
My Subconscious: Nah, TV.
Me: Aha! I should write a new blog post – it’s been a couple of days since my last one and I want to keep my blog alive and fresh.
My Subconscious: Nah, it’s too late to start something now. You’ll just have to stop partway through, so what’s the point?
Me: Hmm, I think I’ll dig through my knitting patterns to find something to make for [insert friend or family member’s name here].
My Subconscious: Nah, you’re not in the right mood for that.
I’m not even joking about the last one. It’s ridiculous how often I won’t do something because I don’t feel as though I’m in the right mindset. Perhaps these subconscious delaying tactics have something to do with my habit of leaving the best bits until last; I always eat slices of cake from the bottom up so I can finish with the icing. Today, however, my subconscious is just going to have to deal with the fact that we’re doing something fun. We’re skipping straight to the icing and leaving the cake to its own devices.
We are currently heading deeper into my absolute favourite season of all time: Autumn, the season of colourful leaves, smoky air and deceptively warm-looking mornings that are actually out to freeze off unprotected extremities. For me, it’s the season of nostalgia. Although, to be fair, my life is an endless nostalgia-fest, what with my obsession with the ordinary life of people in the past, but this particular nostalgia is all about me. And this week, my mind has been dwelling on roadtrips past: how much fun they were, how clear they still are in my mind… how much I wish I could go on one right now.
If I could go on one right now (and it is perfect roadtripping weather, with blue skies and crisp air), I would head for Tasmania. It’s close by, but it’s across a body of water; it’s beautiful; it’s packed full of delicious food. I could go on, but by the time I finished, you’d have had time to head over to Tassie and see it all for yourself. The most important reason for wanting to go back to Tasmania is because it’s where the Failboats roadtrips began. In fact, it’s where the Failboats began. We only spent five nights there, but it ignited an enduring love of roadtripping and taking silly photos at every possible opportunity and it still ranks rather highly on my list of Best Holidays Ever.
Why? Let’s list the ingredients:
- Great company
- Beautiful scenery
- More beautiful scenery
- Some beautiful scenery you didn’t see because you were looking at other beautiful scenery
- Delicious food
- Gorgeous little towns
- Stunning beaches
- Time spent playing card games and pictionary with aforementioned great company
- Taking silly photos at the drop of a hat
Mix them all together and it’s perfection. If words aren’t enough, there are photos. So many photos.
Can you blame me for wanting to be back there right now?
When we visited, we were escaping a 45 degree heatwave and we couldn’t hide our smiles when the girl serving us in the supermarket mentioned how hot it was. It was 25 degrees. We had brought jackets in case we got cold. But in a few days, we were walking outside in 20 degrees and feeling content with our choice of shorts and t-shirts.
Right now, I’m wondering what it would be like in Autumn. Or Winter. How cold is too cold, for example? Would it be cold enough in Winter to keep people away, but not so cold that I freeze to death? In related questioning: Is it OK to wear more than one scarf at once? These are important questions because I need to see what Tassie beaches are like in Winter. Cold weather is beach weather in my book; none of this heading for the waves when the sun is warm and sunburny. I much prefer it when the wind is bitingly cold and at least one of your scarves has already been ripped from your neck by said wind.
Boots at the beach are better than thongs. Or sandals, if you’re not Australian and now have an odd image in your head.
So even though I’m grateful to have an excellent Chef, lovely friends, fun colleagues and, indeed, a job, I really wish I was re-enacting an Autumn version of this photo:
Except I’d be wearing the aforementioned two scarves, of course.