I’m just back from a weekend down south with my brothers, my dad and my nephew. It’s an annual event that has been going on for about ten years now and it grows every now and then as a nephew turns seventeen year old. Basically it is a weekend of eating too much, bumming around and, most importantly, talking complete bollocks constantly for four days. 🙂 The location moves occasionally and has included places as far out as Kalgoorlie. But over the last few years it has kinda settled down south somewhere. It started as a Friday to Sunday thing but has grown into a Thursday to Sunday thing as we all decided that, with getting there latish on Friday and having to check out early on Sunday, 3 days really wasn’t enough.
But boring you to death with the details of our ‘Boys Weekend’ isn’t really the point of this post. The point is how lucky I consider myself to have a relationship with my family to makes such an event so enjoyable and successful. Sure there are a few ‘heated debates’ over the weekend but it is predominantly heaps of laughing, chatting and generally having a good time. And the enthusiasm for the event gets greater each year. But the highlight for me this year was when my eighteen year old nephew, after spending the weekend being the butt of most of the jokes, made a point of telling me how much he had enjoyed it and how much he was looking forward to next year. Sure that might partly be cos his younger cousin joins us next year so he is one step higher up the totem pole but I think it also reflects the quality of the relationships we have in my family. I hope I never take that for granted.
I am a lucky man indeed.