Mr Best Friend

I am in the middle of a big run of friends' weddings, baby births and all other sorts of celebrations of happy events. And I'm happy for them...although if I'm honest there is always a twinge of 'why not me?' at some point during the celebrations. Last night at a beautiful wedding in a marquee in the middle of the botanic gardens that twinge moment occurred during the bride's incredible and articulate speech. She described herself as being so proud to marry her husband who is also her best friend.

This is one of many friends' wedding speeches I've recently heard which emphasises how important friendship is to a marriage. How long do you have to have been friends for before you become something else? The doesn't appear to be a standard answer to this question and I've had friends get engaged after 4 weeks and even 8 months.  Last nights couple were together for 8 years - a fact not missed by the father of the bride in his speech....!

It heartens me to think I am yet to meet my best friend for life. Or maybe he's already a friend...although when reflecting on my current male friendship group he wasn't jumping out of the lineup..!

I still have ideas of passion and chemistry being involved when I meet him or when our existing friendship translates to something more serious but I'm realistic about how those things can fade quickly and that friendship is the strongest unifying element in the end.

But it would be a bonus if, romantic and happy ending permitting, Mr Best Friend knew when he met me that I was the one for him and we didn't have to be friends for too long...Just like that line from Pat in Silver Linings Playbook "...I love you. I knew it the moment I met you. I'm sorry it took me so long to catch up. I just got stuck."

Mr Best Friend, I hope we don't take too long to catch up.

Sydney snapshot

Sydney is liberating for me.  When I'm there I feel like I can be anyone, do anything - without anyone having to know.  Its the opposite in my home city, where I feel like I am being pushed further and further into a corner as my life seems to be on repeat - talking to the same people and doing the same things.  

So when I booked my next trip to the city of life I counted down the days in my kikki k. My flight left at 6.30pm Friday and the smile didn't leave my face as the taxi edged towards the airport, sunshine streaming through the windows.  My smile grew bigger as I joined the queue of commuters in the security line - what a jet setter I am!!   My smile stayed until the security guard pulled my bag from the belt and yelled "scissors, we've got some scissors."  After screening handfuls of my fluoro underwear through the machine in a humiliating process of elimination we finally found the offensive sharp object. By that stage I was ready to stab the smug security guard with them.

One huge glass of sauv blanc in the airline bar and a mini bottle of pinot gris on the plane later and my smile had returned.  It stayed when I saw my sister waiting at the gate in Sydney and for the rest of that night as we gossiped with her husband on the couch.

On Sat we had breakfast at Balmoral Beach House where the cappuccinos came with chocolate anchors sprinkled on top and we sat surrounded by funky displays of fruit, flowers and soda bottles.  Saturday night drinks at Icebergs saw us witness the 'best' of Sydney society.  although watching the late-30s blonde slide up and down the glass door while her g-string slid behind her made me question the 'exclusivity' of the location.

The Bondi to Bronte walk on Sunday rounded out the weekend.

It rained all weekend but I didn't care.  In Sydney the rain is warm and the birds keep singing.  

In Sydney, I smile.

In Sydney