by Kerry Tolson @kerrytolson.com
Last week was a bit of a milestone for me, or should I say, for us. It was thirty years.
In a blink of an eyelash it feels like only yesterday I was a young bride faltering on the carpet to the alter, yanking dads arm back with a curt “Not so bloody fast” as he tried to walk (more like gallop) me up the aisle and thinking will we make it to twenty-five years, that special figure in anniversaries - oh my goodness that’s a lifetime, you get less for murder.
Ok I’ll be honest, it wasn’t until I was woken at 6am to the aromatic fragrance of a massive bouquet that I remembered it was anniversary day. . . and once again I had forgotten . . . but plans for a weekend-dash-away had definitely been mooted – I’d just morph them into an anniversary celebration.
And what better way to celebrate than to whisk the hubster to the big smoke for a bit of a fancy frock up – the Phryne Fisher way. That’s right, I took the 'man with the spanner' to an exhibition of Miss Fisher dresses.
Yes, I’m still married.
Earlier in the week I had pre-purchased tickets to see the exhibition at Queensland's Old Government House for the Sunday, so it was decided we would head up Saturday and have a romantic night gazing at Brisbane’s stunning skyline and dining from the world-plate at Southbank. I needed Saturday night’s amorance to cancel out my disremembered-milestone misdemeanour.
Packing the killer heels, pearls and a cloche (yes, one must wear a cloche when visiting the Honourable Miss Fisher), I then committed a number one crime in our ‘laws of float-in traveling’ – I pre-booked a hotel room.
Southbank it said.
City view it said
Luxury suite it said
King bed it said
Special price – normally $259 pay $169 save $90
This is the view shown on the website (a surefire romance stirrer).
this was the real view (like yeah, that's really going to get the vibes going)
The luxury suite would be considered glorious if you were staying at a backpackers and if that was a king bed then I was an elf queen.
And as to being at Southbank – well if your into powerwalking, then it's a fifteen-minute walk over three busy intersections and through a bus terminal. . . and definitely not recommended to be undertaken in heels unless you really want to kill your feet.
To say the amorous vibes had been doused was an understatement. Hands stuffed in pockets and a ruler’s length between us, we walked briskly along the Kangaroo Point cliffs walk. Not much was being said – I was cranky because he hadn’t booked something nicer and he was annoyed because I’d broken my rule and gone and booked something; instead of just arriving and letting serendipity lead the way. For some strange reason, our pre-booking always comes with pre-conceived let downs.
Dusk was falling and Brisbane flicked on its lights, throwing glimmering sheens across the river and soft orange glows onto the cliffs - illuminating the climbers into over-stretched fluid stick figures against the weathered sandstone face. Runners and cyclists on their evening drills zipped past us at lightning speeds pushing us closer together in an endeavour keep out of their way. On the grassy riverbank families picnicked, photographers lined up with tri-pods and time-lapsed cameras and brides in barely-there dresses clinked champagne glasses with their dashing grooms as they wandered hand in hand towards the old boat houses.
By time we reached the red and blue radiance of the Storey Bridge, and gazed upon the glowing lacy wrought-iron balconies of the three-storey 1886 Storey Bridge Hotel, we both burst into laughter. The ghosts of Bridezillas past had led us here, giving us a little nostalgic nudge. Back in the days of our Brissy life - in
Up and checking-out super early the next morning - forget the 'hello Sunday morning lazeabout' with a freeway and carpark building view looming through the windows - the walk to Southbank stretched even longer when we found ourselves waiting for the passing of runners undertaking the Brisbane to Bridge Funrun with over 30,000 happy feet taking part. Everyone from serious marathoners, charity raisers, mums and bubs and bonding dads to the usual suspects - storm-troupers, fairies and big furry critters pounded the roads over the 10km course. With so many bodies pumping the area, Mal and I headed across the Goodwill Bridge and into the city and to a café where the coffee was mind-blowing and the breakfast according to the menu appeared to be a battlefield. Smashed avocado laid with blistered corn accompanied by Turkish soldiers, and the house speciality was a concoction of bacon draped across caramelised banana, sprinkled with nuts, covered in maple syrup heaped on French toast (a crime scene for the mouth if ever there was one).
The programme suggests this exquisite exhibition be given an hour of drooling. Much to Mal's horror I took over two and then I wanted to go back for more. But as I had already committed enough misdemeanours in anniversary week, I thought it might be a better idea to make amends and amble arm in arm in the warm sunshine and soak up some “Beautiful one day, perfect the next” vibes.
A little dash of gladsome
This is my page of delight - things that tickle my fancy, favourite books to take me on inner journeys, art that lifts me up, and tib-bits to make me giggle. It'll be random, fanciful, joyful and delightfully inspiring.
Hello! I'm Kerry
. . . a plan-nothing, have no idea where I'm going travelholic.
A daughter of the gypsies and the wife of a workaholic, I'm forever wondering 'What's over there?' and devising ways to squeeze through the barbed-wire fence of small-business ownership responsibilities and every-day life tangles to discover it.
and this is my book