Weekend at Finucan’s

A beach camping trip involving seventeen (count ‘em – 1 7 ) youngish lads is potentially a logistical, degenerate nightmare; but this one went off without a hitch. In fact, the word “seamless” is appropriate. Kudos to the planners.

The weekend was to “celebrate” one of our brood, whom we shall call “Finucan” – making a journey into married life in the coming months.


It was to be a long weekend – Friday through Monday. I couldn’t get there Friday arv, but several of the boys that did, gave it a solid nudge in Noosa that night, sampling a murder of local brews.


Apparently one of our tribe also made himself affectionately known to a couple of the local elders, who, given their age, may well have been traditional landowners. An Olympian effort.


I met the rest of the boys further south at the Etamogarah pub early on the Saturday morning where a game of paintball “skirmish” had been organised to get the trip underway.


The first thing I noticed on the walk into the skirmish gates, was that the standard of conversation had slipped very quickly. Rapid deterioration in conversation quality is a naturally occurring phenomenon on these kinds of “sabbaticals”, but I must confess to a degree of surprise at how rough it was, so early, having not yet pitched a tent.


Needless to say, the chat stayed at a pretty base level the whole trip…


I had never played skirmish before, but had more fun getting dressed up in army greens and running into the scrub to shoot paint bullets travelling at 300 feet / sec - than I thought I would.

It’s pretty damn amusing and you do get your warface on. Of course, we all got a decent caning and there was plenty of hail damage in the form of blue / yellow bruises and hickey like broken capillaries sprayed across our bodies at the end of it.


One of the guys looked like he had the worst ringworm infestation of all time…


After skirmish, we returned to Noosa where Finucan was asked to get dressed in his weekend attire – pink boots, purple top hat and lycra leotard.


After a princely lunch on buckets of KFC and tubes of coke, we loaded up the convoy, 6 fourbies in total, took the barge across the Noosa River and drove up the Northshore for about 15 clicks.


There’s a great feeling of freedom cruising up the beach in the car - it’s great fun. It’d been a few years since I’d last been over to the Northshore and I had forgotten what a great, rugged expanse of beach it is.


Camp was established with a minimum of fuss though three of our cars (including mine) initially missed the spot and went half a dozen k’s further up the beach than required. Nonetheless, a relaxing way to cruise through a Saturday afternoon.

One of the highlights of the Saturday night, apart from the company and the conversation of course, was the fire. In addition to the four heaving great bags of firewood we purchased earlier in the night, we managed to torch a pretty substantial amount of Northshore deadwood. The result was an awesome fire - one of the best I have ever been a part of…

Honourable mention must also be made of one of our greenthumb mates, who monitored and built the fire with sterling expertise.





Given the size and volume of some of the flora (dead of course - mostly...) being harvested from the dunes on a regular basis throughout the night, fears of soil erosion and sandslide were legitimate. However these were warmly soothed by the toasting blaze we had erupting in front of us.

One of the things that did become obvious that night was the discrepancy in musical tastes that has grown more defined as the years have rolled forward. So intolerant were we of each others choices in music, I conspired a drinking game where people had to guess songs and sing them. When this ran out of legs, we settled for passing the ipod on after every song for someone else’s selection...



I have always felt that camp fires are for sing-alongs so the ol' Don McLean classic “American Pie”, was my first choice. Never fails to bring a chorus of bad voices.

I'd left the pump for my air mattress at home, so subsequently spent a good hour at least, fireside, breathing hard into the bugger to get it sleepworthy. Blowing up the mattress had "taken the wind out of me", so I thought I would briefly test it - fireside.


With a few ales in my gullet slowly dissolving the fillet steak sandwich (cuisine for the weekend was exclusively carnivorous, with the exception of the “eggs” on the B & E rolls), an air of contentment overcame me and I drifted away.


The tranquility was not to last.


Ignoring the fact that many of our other crew had also “retired”, one of my intoxicated scumbag mates thought it a nice idea to start ripping my leg hairs out to stir me awake… It took several ripped “clumps”, before I realised what was happening. Awaking from a very pleasurable nap, to find someone going to town on the follicles on your calves with thumb and index finger is not a recipe for a pleasant reaction. I was not a happy camper.


“Steaming” is the right word in this case. And “steaming” is what we both almost were, as we briefly wrestled to within an inch of the inferno…


Following that little incident, I was wide awake again and ended up talking drivel into the wee hours with one of my old pals of South African lineage who has demonstrated legendarily consistent staying power at these kinds of gatherings over the years…


On the Sunday we got in the cars and went further up the beach to cut across inland to Double Island Point. This is truly a beautiful spot.


With the “coloured sands” running down towards Rainbow Beach, the scene resembles a giant orange cake crumbling into the ocean. Stretching up the other way, coffee rocks line the shoreline up to the headland.



Most of the guys swam out to Double Island to play touch footy, while five of us hopscotched along the rocky beach in one of the guy’s Landcruisers up toward the headland and did a little trek / rockclimb around its front. A highlight.

The break off this point is also pretty impressive. A longboarder nabbed a cushy 300 m ride while we were there.

About half of us, including yours truly, regrettably, had to return on the Sunday arv… (If only to cover the sizeable financial hit we all took to purchase the remainder of the 2009 inventory at the Diageo liquor company). By all reports, the survivors chalked up more good times on the Monday.


In sum, a great time had, more memories made, and Finucan’s march towards married life has been toasted appropriately.


I guess one of the standout things is that all seventeen of us on this trip were in the same senior year, at the same high school together. I think that’s pretty exceptional. It will be ten years since we finished next year and I think we all realise, and appreciate, how rare it is to have the bond that we do. We are all really quite different too, which makes it all the better.

Get togethers such as this happen with less frequency as the years burn through, but great friendships need little stoking anyway.

Mum turns 50

My mum will turn 50 on Wednesday. In light of this, I thought I would dedicate this blog to her.

She is a bit of a wonderwoman my mum.

Generous, caring, intelligent, hardworking and giving to her family and those that come into her life - in an immense way. I owe her so much I feel like the "life debt" equivalent of Bernie Madoff...

We had a dinner party for mum last Fri night with family and wonderful friends. I gave a toast at that, so rather than try and write too much of something new, I have cut and pasted the notes I made for that toast... (If only for the reason that I found writing any notes about mum difficult in the first place). Like most of the speeches / addresses I have given in my life, this was bashed out at the 11th hour, in the half an hour before the party.

Words will always be insufficient in some contexts though (like these). Suffice to say I love my mum a great deal and think I struck absolute gold to be born to a mum such as mine. I hope I get to have her around for at least another 50.


A Toast to Mum

It’s a pleasure to be able to say a few words about mum on behalf of my brothers Andy and Robert.

Though I must preface by saying that it’s really hard to reduce to words the feelings I guess we all have towards our mums. It should be the easiest thing in the world but words like “grateful” really don’t cut it.

So despite staring into space for a long while thinking about words I could use to pay tribute to my mum, I will say just a few things.

Andy, Robert and I know we have a pretty amazing, special and unique mum.

And that knowledge is consistently affirmed by the many other people who know mum, many of whom are in the room tonight, who feel the same way about her, and regularly make comment to us about her.

In fact I have been receiving comments about mum my whole life.

I vividly recall the follow up from mum’s occasional visits to school to drop off a forgotten lunch, hat or shoe as the case may be, and being queried by students, and teachers, alike - right up until I left school in fact - as to whether mum was really my mum or my sister. When I gave them the answer this was invariably followed by a look of astonishment and various exclamations...

But mum’s youthful appearance has more to do with her genes than an easy lifestyle. Mum has an incredible work ethic and has achieved an enormous amount in her career, of which we as her sons are immensely proud. She has provided a great example in giving something your best.

What is most significant about Mum’s tireless efforts of course is that it has been selfless, in the name of giving the three of us every opportunity in life. She did from a young age, stress balance – the need to work hard and play hard and try not to mix the two – sage counsel – although she herself does not take as much time as she should, for herself.

One of the first things you notice about Mum is that she is a bit of a force of nature. She does move around the world - at pace.

Another thing that immediately strikes you about mum is her personality. Mum is a happy person, a vibrant and caring person and she immediately lifts a room and peoples spirits, just by being present.

Whether or not it is the country girl hangover or not, mum is forthcoming and conversational with everyone. And I mean everyone. She can start a topic with any person – and I mean, any person. And the conversation could go for hours. And I mean hours.

But as we know, this is one of mum’s charming qualities and she is without question immensely popular with many people, old and young, rich and poor, because of it.

Being a clean living, highly moral and modest person, there really are not too many dark secrets to drag out on a night like this. Mum does of course, have one or two quirks of character. Subtle quirks. I will list these in alphabetical order.

A.

No I won’t do that…

Mums flaws and quirks are in fact strengths.

She is an intense worrier about everyone and everything. Which simply reveals the fact that she cares about others. She is a sensitive person.

She is a prolific talker. I may have alluded to this earlier. As I have mentioned though, mum has a tremendous personality which is a reflection of a tremendous mind.

She is an incessant tea drinker. A plantation a year at least. I’m not sure what the redeeming feature of this vice is, but anti-oxidants spring to mind.

She also has one of the most prodigious collections of self-help books I have every encountered.
Which can only mean that she is closing in on complete enlightenment…

Really though mum, in the eyes of Andy, Rob and I you are flawless.

I once heard someone remark that people can choose to live their lives either as creators of opportunities for themselves and others and creators of happiness; or, as conquerors, people who diminish and dominate.

By this definition, mum is one of the great creative people I know. Always thinking of others – empathetic to the needs and feelings of those around her and exceptionally generous. Mum’s personal indulgences are very few - but I do hope she can enjoy a few more of these in the coming years.

None of the traditional clichés about turning 50 apply to you mum. You are young at heart, young in mind and in body. And I know that the best years are ahead.

Andy, Robert and I love you dearly and cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us – and we wish you every happiness on this birthday.

Robert, in his absence, has also wanted to make the statement that he sincerely apologises for not being born of the fairer sex. He knows how much you wanted a daughter. He did say though that he will do his best to produce a daughter you can look after in retirement…

I would like to propose a toast – to you Mum and to the wonderful life you’ve lived so far and to the years ahead.

“To Christine”

"Round Table"

Last week we shot 3 episodes for a new TV concept called “Round Table”, at the Visy theatre in the Powerhouse in Brisvegas.

The concept is to create “a dialogue on modern society” through the media of interview and music. This sounds a bit grandiose but the approach is minimalist. A simple idea produced with a high quality though raw aesthetic.

I've always felt that free-flowing, pure "interview" plays an important role in creating a social record.

It’s been a seven month slog to pull the right team together for this and the outcome was better than I had hoped. The team performed great and everything went really well. The guests were amazing and it was a privilege to be able to speak with them. Each brought their own compelling wisdoms, stories and experiences to the table with great spirit.

There is a very intimate atmosphere created in the Visy when you kill every light but your show lights and the guests let go a bit. I still had a lump in my throat two days after the event from all the adrenaline. Needless to say, it’s both exhilarating and taxing when the interviews come rapid fire, the way they did.

The next couple of months promise more hard work but much excitement on this front, as we further develop the concept.