We’ve wanted to move to the beach for as long as we’ve been together. It’s where we fell in love, you see. Ah yes, I remember it just like it was…eight years ago.
The weekend trips to Byron Bay…
Renting out long-boards and surfing the waves…
Realising Tim’s quirky factor was right up there upon sighting his new boardshorts in all their fluorescent orange glory. I’m not kidding – they made traffic lights look like beige pantyhose. I believe the ensuing conversation went something like:
Him – Check these out! I got them on sale for a bargain!
Me – WHAT? I’M SORRY, I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER YOUR SHORTS!
Anyway, the point is, the beach has always been a very special place for us. And now finally, after years of thinking about it as this elusive ‘wow’ place, we’re actually moving there.
It’s like we’ve finally woken up and realised that our dreams of raising our kids at the beach need some serious action if they’re to come true. Our kids are almost at school age already, after all (well, Ella is) and I REFUSE to wait until I’m battling arthritis to give myself permission to ‘retire’ to the coast. If it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen now.
The downside of course, is that most of my gigs these days are in Brisvegas – BUT…now we’ve got the van, commuting should be relatively manageable. Plus, I’ll no doubt be a bit more selective in which gigs I take – probably a good thing. Plus I can finally focus myself and finish off some projects which are THIS close to finished but I just haven’t had the time or energy to take them home to the finish line.
Plus…I cannot wait to get back into surfing – we did a bit on the recent tour and I’d forgotten how much I love it. I’m pretty crap at it, but just being out there clears the head and soothes the soul. Just like a good cough lolly, really. But less sticky.
My fabulously inspiring friends Lemm and Sian reminded me of a schmaltzy but cool story last night:
A dude is fishing off a pier, when he’s approached by another guy. The guy says to him “wow, you should really start selling those fish, then you could invest what you make back into your business, hire some staff, grow it up and then sell it off, you could make a fortune!”
“Why would I want to do that?” says the fisherman.
“Well,” says the man, “so you could afford to do the things you really want to do!”
“What?” says the fisherman, “you mean like go fishing off the pier?”
*** The Comic Mummy makes no apologies for the sickly sweet gooey nature of this story, but takes full responsibility for any happy warm feelings of fuzz generated as a result of reading it. Please direct all compliments to the comments section and all complaints to enoughoftheschmaltzalready@vomit.com
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