Before I say anything else, I have to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and support in response to my grandmother passing away. I had no idea, when I wrote that post, how quickly I would find myself enveloped in words of support and sympathy, through your comments, texts, calls, and emails. Both I and my family are truly grateful to know there are such wonderful and caring people as you in this world. Thank you.
As I mentioned in my last post, this past weekend my Strange Weather Gospel Choir was performing at the Moruya Jazz Festival. In the minutes following my grandmother’s passing, I felt sure I couldn’t go. However, my parents were adamant that I should head to Moruya, and that Grandma would have wanted me to enjoy it.
I thought about how Grandma Mickey loved to sing and belonged to choirs herself, how she loved to walk along the beach, and how she almost always found something to giggle about in any circumstance. I thought about all of this, and I decided to go.
I had the most wonderful weekend. I had it for her, and the life I know she wants me to live.
At this point, I must give a shout-out to my beloved Fi, who spent the greater part of an hour on Friday calling members of our choir to see if someone could give us a lift to the coast, as my parents could no longer take us. Ultimately, I decided that I felt okay to drive. So began my first ever road trip as the driver, with one of my best friends by my side.
Thank heavens for Fi and her navigational skills, because I was not in a state to deal with maps at this point (“Which way is the coast? I don’t know where the coast is!”). And thank heavens for Fi and how perfectly in sync we are, because we were both equally delighted and prepared to stop the car when we caught glimpse of Elmo in a tree in the middle of nowhere.
Don’t believe me?
There were toys in trees everywhere.
We eventually returned to the car, immediately restarting Avenue Q in the CD player. As we wound our way down Clyde Mountain, we found ourselves once more squealing with delight and braking. After all, you can’t not stop at Pooh’s Corner.
I couldn’t help wondering whether Piglet truly should be drinking a Bundy and Coke, but gave up on this ethical conundrum in order to concentrate on the final leg of the drive to Moruya. Happy to have arrived before 7pm, Fi and I became even happier to find that our hotel room was enormous (made for four people; inhabited only by us) and that the hotel had horse stables, a cubby house, a swimming pool, and a trampoline.
A. Trampoline. Of. Amazing. Ness. (And a swimming pool of amazingness, in Fi’s view.)
Despite both being hungry, we decided to delay dinner so that Fi could go for a swim and I could jump on the trampoline. Blurrily.
After our swimming and jumping efforts, Fi and I went for a wander in search of dinner. However, the plethora of men ogling us at every nearby pub, combined with my wobbly emotional state, led us to make the executive decision to create a picnic from Woolworths and have a quiet night back at our hotel room instead.
Quiet, however, may be a relative term. Because after sharing Indian food, sour cherry gummies, cherry date truffles (recipe to come),and either Lindt 85% or Cadbury chocolate (no prizes for guessing whose was whose), I found myself feeling a little upset again and suggested we go back on the trampoline. At 10pm. After lots and lots of dinner and candy.
It was both the best and least appropriate decision I’ve ever made.
The next twenty minutes were a blur of breathless laughter as Fi and I jumped higher and higher together on the trampoline, feeling steadily queasier yet unable to stop the momentum of movement and giggles.
Until, of course, we really, really had to. And even then, the night wasn’t over, for we stayed up into the wee hours talkingtalkingtalking, until I was tired enough that I could fall asleep without crying.
And that, my dears, was how my trip to the Moruya Jazz Festival became about friends, music, and laughter helping me through. Even better, I was lucky enough to have another two days of the weekend to go when I woke up.