Feeling crabby

Have you ever wanted something so badly that it possessed your body and your soul through the night and through the day. Until you finally get it and then you realise it wasn't what you wanted after all. And those selfsame, sickly little thoughts now go and attach themselves to something or somebody new and the whole goddam thing starts all over again. 'True happiness this way lies' by The The

I had been away for ten days when it happened. I was on my own, caught up in my own world, busily trying to take a photograph of a small crab as it scuttled over a rock in Gordon’s Bay when it finally happened. I relaxed. It was a nice moment on a nice day and it had been an unusually long time coming.



Last year Fe & I spent a week in Cyprus to celebrate/recover from her MA completion and to reward ourselves after an incredibly tough year. After arriving at our hotel in the evening we woke early the following morning and spent our first day on a sun-lounger by a pool with a book and a beer.

For one hour it was great, for two hours it was great, but by hour three I started getting edgy. I just found it impossible to stop my brain whizzing along at ten-to-the-dozen. Despite the surroundings & the fact I'd been longing for a lounging for months I found myself getting stressed, really stressed. As you can imagine Fe was delighted by this turn of events.

It ended up taking me two days of wall climbing before I finally unwound. And of course, before I knew it I was sitting on the plane homeward bound wondering what all the fuss was.

This time around it’s taken even longer and I’m still not where I want to be. I thought I’d be right back in the swing of things by now. Up until a day ago the Aussies were seemingly on their knees awaiting the cry “Orf with their heads!” I’ve a week in Sydney fresh in the memory banks and apart from the showers that greeted my arrival in Auckland, Sydney and Brisbane the weather has been everything it isn’t back home. But just like back in Cyprus I’m still struggling.

Casting an eye over the itinerary I have compiled for my three month trip the only free time before I get married has just gone. When I’m up watching the Aussies win the Ashes, against a deadline or dragging my kit around Perth in the blazing heat I know full well I will look back at that week and wonder what the hell I was up to.

Things did start well, for after spending a couple of days in Auckland with my mother-in-law to be I arrived in Sydney a week last Sunday to be greeted by my old schoolmate and former partner in grime Tomson. Since we’d last seen each other back in February, 2008 he’d undergone some changes in his life. He’s moved from the beaches of Manly to the suburbs of Summer Hill where he now lived with his new girlfriend, Michelle. A woman famed for her liberal use of the 'c' word and a born & bred Aussie.

It quickly became apparent that through a mixture of beauty, charm and an iron will (and possibly blackmail) she’d somehow managed to transform Tom into a metrosexual – albeit one with the start of what will one day be a hugely impressive pot belly. For Tom had quit smoking, gambling and didn’t even moan that much anymore. While in the seven days I stayed with them I’ve never seen a South Londoner do so much cleaning & washing up.

And then there was the devotion to his recently acquired cat. Jeez, that took some getting used to. Public shows of emotion & kindness were never something I’d associated with Tom before. And why should I? He is an Englishman after all. But now, he was forever kissing, hugging & petting either the cat or Michelle. He used to be known as ‘Rude Rees’ for goodness sake. I don’t know what mystical magic Michelle had weaved on him but I decided I would lock my door at night.

Not that everything had changed for while a cat may have nine lives we only have the one and Tom could still knock the drinks back. And there can’t be too many better cities on the planet to conjure up reasons to do just that than in Sydney. For when it wasn’t raining time was spent taking the ferry over to Manly, revisiting Circular Quay, strolling round the Botanical Gardens & Darling Harbour and even popping along to the SCG to take in a bit of State cricket.



But for some reason I was struggling to let myself go. In the past two trips to Sydney the mere sight of one of its iconic structures would have been enough for me to exhale deeply, slow my pace to a crawl and live in the present rather than furiously plot for tomorrow. Please god, don't tell me I'm turning into one of those people who need to be doing something at every hour of the day to be content.

Actually no, I'm just as laxy as the next person. Unless that next person is Tomson!No, rather it's that I needed more than a week to clear my mind following a year that has involved two new jobs, a South African World Cup, wedding organisations, two trips to Germany, one to Ireland & two stag dos to participate and arrange.

And being apart from Fe in the city that we met has also been difficult. It’s hard not to have constant reminders that she isn’t with me. ‘Oh look, the restaurant where we went on our first date, or the house that she lived in the month we started seeing each other, or her old office where I used to wait for her to finish work, even the bloody SCG made me think of the time we went to the nearby cinema together rather than watch England win a One Day International against Australia in the final of the Commonwealth Bank Series. I think it was at that point back then that I realised we had something serious.

So the chance to get out of Sydney was actually one I welcomed. Come the Friday and the return of the bad weather and me, Tom & Michelle went off on a road trip to Scotland Island. It was a chance to go somewhere new and a place that would definitely not remind me of Fe! Hurrah! And more importantly it was my first visit to my old University friend Newkster Jon’s family home which he shared with his wife Maria and two kids Jasmine & Joey.

The weather on the way up to Scotland Island was pretty bleak (for Sydney) and wouldn’t have been out of place in the Outer Hebrides and it ended up taking us the best part of four hours to get there. It was also a place as far removed from the one I’d met Jonny 16 long years ago.

Cut off from the mainland by a short boat ride, Scotland Ireland as it registered in my brain, is inhabited by less than 300 families. All houses look outwards over the bay and are perched on the side of the hill. There are no shops, little in way of roads, the tap water is collected from the roof, and funnel web spiders lurk outside. But when the view from your bedroom is as good as this then that seems pretty unimportant.



When the sun shines it's a beautiful island setting and Jonny seems pretty damn content with his lot. He may have to get his feet wet everytime he takes the kids to school or goes to work but he doesn't seem to mind.







Awaking early the next day after an evening spent playing with the kids, eating $100 worth of BBQ meat and drinking ale I found I’d been savagely attacked in the night. Mosquito’s had descended and my legs, arms and even forehead been targeted. I immediately started treating my wounds but even as I did so a lone chancer caught me unawares and started feasting on the inside of my knee. My leg immediately started to swell up and I felt it go numb all down the front. All of which was fairly disturbing.

I hadn’t mentioned any of this to the others as I stoically got on with applying ointment to my various lumps, bumps and bites. But unfortunately for my excitable mind, Maria chose this moment to mention how her youngest daughter had suffered an anaphylactic shock after a tick bite. Apparently the only symptom she failed to experience was her heart stopping. I immediately added two and two to make the Greek number for PANIC.

Maria continued on saying that since then she now stocked syringes in case it
happened again and how the thigh was the best place to aim for. Part of me thought, hmmm stabbing myself in the thigh wouldn’t be that bad, and the other part of me thought of that scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta has to plunge a needle into Uma Thurman’s heart, white frothy puke and all.

Thankfully for everyone concerned there was no need for any life saving measures and after needlessly fretting for a bit I realised that nothing untoward was going to happen and that their was no need for any undue 1990’s messiness which would have left everyone present (and my thigh) scarred for life.

Before long it was time to leave the island and head back to Manly. The sun was out, the kids had a party to go to and we had a date with my favourite beach in all the world.



And so my final few days in town ended pleasantly, sun-bathing and swimming on Shelly Beach in Manly, snorkelling off Clovelly beach, learning how to use my new camera by pursuing crabs around rock pools and finally another top BBQ with Tom & Michelle & their neighbours.

And while it’s true that my Sydney experience this time around didn’t quite match the relaxation stakes of years gone by. Considering the next time I’ll be in town is when the 5th and final Ashes Test takes place and all that entails. It could be that I find myself longing for the simpler days when all I had to worry about was my knee ballooning to twice its size and whether my heart was about to explode.