Schoolies for Toolies - Surfers Paradise 18 years on

You could put it down to a scheduling issue. Which, when you think about it, is quite embarrassing for a project manager.   But in my defence, I delegated the booking to my trusted lieutenant. I wasn't to know he would be bloody useless at it.

So this is how we found ourselves, 3 grown men, on the Gold Coast, at Surfers Paradise, bang at the start of schoolies week.  OK, further mitigation could be had that we are from the UK, and don't (didn't) have the foggiest idea what schoolies was.  My readers from the UK may want to Google it, then try and suppress your childish giggles. In town, with 30,000 schoolgirls, with our reputation!  (said in the manner of the Fast Show, aka Paul Whitehouse, just in case anybody reads that as a literal statement.)

When word got out at work, via my boss!, to the whole bank, via her boss, that I was off to schoolies, a week of constant piss taking followed.

Apparently, I would now be a toolie.  Somebody of an older generation who purposely goes to "observe" the (away from home for the first time) schoolies.  Have I got my hard hat? For unidentified flying objects being dispatched from windows.  It was even suggested, once I had explained what they were, that settees have been known to come out of the sky.  I said I'm not sure what helmets they sell but not sure any would save me from an errant flying settee!

Our, not so, salubrious lodgings!

Another theme was that I was going to be locked up.  For what, I could never really establish.  Tagged and having to remain at Mosman.  Deported.  Oh, I could go on.  That said, I did work out that it has been 18 years since I was last in Surfers Paradise, and most of the 30,000 schoolies hadn’t even been born then.

Yet, here I am, back in one piece, still a free man, without so much as a stain on my character.  And what a weekend it was.  Much better than I had actually anticipated, after all the hype about what carnage it would be.  As has happened before, I do wonder what a lot of Australian's frame of reference is.  Mine, for carnage, would be a night out around Liverpool or Newcastle (UK), where you could be lucky to get home in one piece.  Surfers, even for schoolies, was very tame by comparison.  Great fun, but tame all the same.

Being back in Sydney, and seeing some of the news headlines and coverage of it, I'm convinced it is all a result of media hype.  It is just a bunch of kids, being kids.  Letting off steam and enjoying some new found freedom.  And good luck to them I say.

Despite our weekend being very short, flying up straight from work on Friday, and back home on Sunday night, we had a great time and loads of laughs.  I'm not sure if some of the stuff, like random photos, was actually that funny, but it could have been the copious amounts of Guinness that lubricated the laughing gene.

What was funny was finding out about hidden desires to be a hairdresser.  A desire surely only let free as a result of the aforementioned alcohol.  I've asked the person involved never to admit this again to anybody.  Ever.  Yet, if you travel with him, the GHD straighteners and fancy hairdryer might just give the game away.

I think the world record for eating the most Twixes in one weekend was comfortably broken.  And they were all eaten by the same man.  Not me. 

I also met my very first ever people from Halifax...Nova Scotia in Canada.  Whilst whiling away a few hours, people watching in Kitty O'Shea's, we got talking to the barmaids, both of whom hail from Halifax.  And yet didn't know each other until they met at work in Surfers.  It just shows you how small the world is, and how we serendipitously meet people through our lives.  Fate, destiny, or just pure coincidence?  You decide.

Now we need to start thinking of where to take the tour next.  New Zealand and Bali are emerging as hot favourites, yet would need more than a flying visit.

We will keep thinking, but in the meantime, I am off to polish the bugle.  I could have a busy week ahead.

Who stole October?

Another month passes guys, and here we are in November.  As with each passing month now, it is my second of each since being here.  Arriving naive and wet behind the ears as an expat way back in August 2012.  This year seems to have particularly flown by, a fact brought sharply into focus when I think that I am in month 9 of my work contract.  Only 16 weeks left.  Then what?  Who knows.  Keeps me on my toes I guess, not really knowing what next year will bring.

October brought Halloween and all it’s associated commercial crassness.  Bah humbug you may be shouting at me, but to the childless amongst us, it definitely has less appeal,  So, no pumpkins at Cormack HQ and nothing scary perhaps apart from the fact that it is almost Xmas, ergo, I'm another year older.  Or is that younger.  Could I claim to be the new Benjamin Button?  

Something in my Twitter feed, claiming to be from Santa Claus, but I’m dubious it is really him, tells me that there are only 52 sleeps to Xmas.  That is a sobering thought.  I better get back to wok on that booze cupboard.  Following my last missive to you all I got asked whether the photo of all the booze I posted was just for Xmas morning!  Then again, that comment was from a dipsomaniac.

Following on from my great trip to Byron Bay recently, a couple of mates felt cheated that I went alone, as is my wont.  So, we have booked another trip, this time to Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast.  In a couple of weeks we will be flying up there straight from work and having a weekend of debauchery.  And being poms, and completely unaware, we can even be excused for choosing a notoriously bad time to go and get end up getting labeled “toolies”.  Friends in the UK, it’s an Aussie thing.  Just Google “schoolies week”.

The month of October seems to have come and gone in a blur of very long work days and late party nights.  If there is one takeaway from the month it is probably that drinking shots is no good for you.  Yeah, you probably already knew this.  Drinking 101, right?  But as I live a less Bacchanalian, more austere lifestyle this was news to me and has contributed to a few hazy mornings and a dangerously depleted bank account.

These shenanigans are likely to continue this week as on Tuesday it is Melbourne Cup day.  Reputed to be the horse race that stops a nation.  Not being big on the nags I never really understood all the fuss, but the nation is obsessed with it so I go along for the ride.  I watched it last year and it was like a poor man's Grand National, *ducks from abuse from proud Aussies*.

Tuesday at approximately 3pm will see us watching the race at work, with wine and nibbles, before de-camping to a local hostelry of choice to continue the festivities.  People get really dressed up and it has been fascinating to listen to the girls at work talk about fascinators.  To the blokes amongst us, these are the funny little “pretend hat” type things that girls wear to the races.  And often seen at weddings.  That the girls will pay the prices they charge for some of these things is fascinating enough for me.

However, contrary to popular belief, it is not all party party party over here.  It's not one long continuous episode of Geordie Shore.  I do other things than just get "mortal".  Honestly.  It I do.  The ying to that yang is that I have pushed myself even harder in the gym to compensate for this decadent lifestyle.  It helps to have some friendly competition to motivate you so me and a mate complete on number of gym visits, to be able to proudly claim to be #mostrecentchampion.  And despite my recent best efforts, I still have to claim the title back.  

Could this be the week?