A Wedding and the Whitsundays

Over a week after the resumption of 'normal life' and my head is still spinning a little from the whirlwind week and a bit that just past. It seems like an eon ago that I was sitting at the computer trying to put together some words toasting the Bride and Groom.

And so began the week that is best summarised by the title of this post.

Friday morning began like I expect most Friday's this semester to begin, a quick breakfast of Home-Brand Wheat Biscuits and Home-Brand rolled oats - then off to the hospital for my final three hours of Uni for the week. The difference today is that not only will Benny Mayo - a friend I haven't seen since his wedding two and half years ago - be arriving, but the infamous John Arneil of Cromwell College, Canberra and Central London was getting married. The reception of which I was deemed to be the Master of Ceremonies.

And so, drawing on all my Masters skills acquired at University this year I endeavoured to mediate the reception to the best of my ability.

For the vast majority of the evening the six inches of anti-perspirant under my arms prevented me from drowning all those spoke to me. I was roughly as nervous as I was when I was about to jump off a twenty metre cliff in Turkey without knowing exactly whether I would reach the water or if it was indeed safe to jump into. I made every effort, however, to make it appear as though I MC a wedding every other day and twice on Sundays. I clearly didn't though - having only been to one fairly informal wedding before in the past.

The night proceeded without major incident (other than two people getting married - my god!), and my sole slice of humour was accepted with polite laughter. During the course of the evening the title of my role evolved into 'chairman', then made the obvious progression to 'Chairman Mao'. In true John and Lani style they joined us all at the pub straight after the reception before retiring to their marital suite to do the final paperwork, or something. Thank you John and Lani for the honour, see you when you get back! (or maybe in Arusha).

Saturday was a recovery day and time for final packing for the trip north. Did I mention I was going on their honeymoon? As was Heather and 15 others. A week of sailing around the Whitsunday Islands was the plan, as it had been for over a year eager anticipation. Everyone was flying up on Sunday midday. But oh no, in the interest of saving money and making life difficult for myself and Heather we had decided to drive up instead. After an early night on Saturday night we were on the road by 3:15am Sunday morning - 12 relatively uneventful hours later we cruised (literally - cruise control saved me a few speeding tickets I'm sure) into Airlie beach and our hostel for the night.

As I always say, there is only one first night so may as well make the most of it. Which we did, much to my regret the following day as sea-sickness x hangover = a green faced young chap for most of the first day. The intolerable nausea was interrupted sporadically by breaching whales, playful dolphins and some snorkeling among colourful coral. With the option to camp ashore at night we evacuated the boat each evening at bedtime (which was really quite early - all that fresh air was obviously tiring, now that I think of it, after two years in London it was indubitably the fresh air that had John retiring white-faced to bed on some nights, some time inhaling CO in the engine room would have sorted him out).

The routine was similar each day - breakfast, sail on our 72-foot wooden ketch, lunch, snorkel, sail, set up camp, dinner, play various board games (trivial pursuit being the most popular), back to shore to camp. Just as it seemed we were all (except James) getting our sea-legs and the girls began adjusting to a life of moderate uncleanliness (or perhaps not) it was all over. The boat nearly ripped in half and sank as we docked back in at Airlie Beach - an alleged rotted piece of wood on the starboard side was to blame for the 10 second snapping and crunching noise that shocked everyone as the top edge of the boat was peeled back. An unfortunate and horrified Pricey was in charge of pulling the rope that had done the damage, but the captain quickly assured him that he had played no part in the carnage. We concealed muffled giggles at the atrocity, but Mike, the captain appeared unperturbed and we allowed smiles instead of solemnity.

Relaxed, rested and not looking forward to the 12 hours in the car home and the responsibilities of daily life that awaited, but we did it anyway, with a stop-overnight in Rockhampton.

So a week and half later I'm again lost in a world of economic analysis of health care markets and cost-effectiveness. But, I have just landed myself a new job. No more will I be unloading and unpacking boxes of notebooks and then selling them to over-financed students. I'll be working part-time as a research assistant for the Queensland Institute of Medical Research - and, dare I say it - earning more money to travel with (and buy vegetables with - they are so expensive these days).