My cousin has a lot to answer for.

If we weren’t going to Sydney for his wedding, we would have never had a trip to extend. Thus, when Dave was unceremoniously told he must resign from his teaching job or be fired (all because he didn’t see the need to be injected with an experimental substance that is doing basically nothing to stop the spread of Covid), an idea began to germinate.

What if we just kept on driving?

With a long-service leave payout and a lot of pondering regarding future directions to be done, a big trip seemed to be a providential answer. My parents had decided to do a roadtrip of their own at the same time, so we proposed tagging along and using their itinerary as inspiration. They were enthusiastic, so the planning began.

The weeks leading up to the trip were a little frantic, with Hudson’s party, his (almost) surgery) and Dave squishing three weeks of work into two so that we could miss that last week of school. Somehow we made it and, in the half-light of the morning on Friday, 1st April, we took off. With 8.5 hours of driving to make it to our accommodation in Sydney, we knew we had a big day ahead.

Our first stop was McDonald’s. A chance to stretch our legs and our first in-house dining experience as a family since who knows when, since no check-ins were required. The kids were so pumped, with every new town sighting and playground stop being a chance for adventure. Grandma and Grandpa had thoughtfully stopped by the day before we left and loaded us up with treats, activity books and challenges for keeping them occupied along the way.

The time fled past, with Dave and I taking it in turns to do two-hourly shifts. Aside from the scattered arguments in the back seat, the kids took to roadtripping with ease. We set up a routine – half an hour of reading, half an hour of drawing, half an hour of audio book and then half an hour of screens. It was a great success.

We stopped in Gundagai for some pies and sausage rolls and a stretch of our legs, then continued along the way to Oran Park – the house no less than fourteen of us would be staying at for the next three days.

It was a nondescript place, but had (almost) enough beds to fit us all in. My sister, Hali, and her partner, Matt, had already arrived, along with my parents, all of us having decided to come by car. Poor Loren and Artur were not so lucky, as their flight was delayed by more than an hour, and arrived close to midnight with very overtired children.

The next morning was packed with family activities, with a visit from the groom-to-be, Stephen, and his son, Luka. Then, after a whirlwind op shop trip to pick up formalwear for the kids, (who were allowed, after all, to attend the ceremony), we drove to my Uncle Drago and Aunty Dale’s house for a BBQ. It was so nice to be together again, after our last chance to see each other was around two years ago for Deda’s funeral. We shared a bountiful meal together, chatting with my cousin, Megan and her two daughters, and then taking a walk to the nearby playground to let the kids discharge their boundless energy.

The day of the wedding was beautiful. We kept the bathroom busy, rotating back and forth and taking advantage of any spare moment. Before long, we were all more polished versions of ourselves and ready to celebrate in style.

We were welcomed into a secret garden at Burnham Grove Estate, which was adorned with stunning ivory and blush coloured roses, each petal painstakingly hand-folded (according to my florist-trained sister, Loren), and exchanged air kisses with great uncles and aunts and distant cousins. The ceremony was ‘unplugged’, meaning phone-free, so I don’t have any photos to share, but I can assure you that the exchange of vows went perfectly, with the flowergirls (my cousin’s daughters) playing their role to perfection.

Dave was the intrepid babysitter for the evening – tackling the task of looking after six children solo back at the house, while we partied on at the reception. He took to the challenge with bravado and confidence, heading straight to McDonalds for an early dinner, and then taking up a deal from Donut King for a platter of make-your-own creations, effectively hitting up the kids with bucket loads of sugar. They loved every minute.

We savoured canapes in the gardens and caught up with relatives, listening to the dulcet tones of the singer and guitarist, who effortlessly provided a backdrop of popular tunes. It was refreshing to discover we were definitely not alone in our rebel status and that perhaps skepticism towards government mandates and vacuous phrases like ‘trust the science’ run in our blood. When we moved into the marquee, we settled in at the long tables and welcomed back the bridal party, each of whom entered to their own personalised tunes.

The food was delicious – my favourite being the chilli and lime squid with five spice salt. The portions were generous and the hum of the conversation and laughter was like a balm for the soul. Chatting with family again was made even more meaningful after the past two years and we treasured the chance to catch up on all that we had missed. Speeches were of high quality, as expected, and I always enjoy listening to my Uncle’s delivery in particular – he is quite talented at the art of speech-craft.

Stephen and Brittany appeared to thoroughly enjoy themselves, having pulled off an incredibly smooth day with barely any visible effort. Two year old Luka behaved himself perfectly and even managed a ‘hello’ into the microphone which had the emcee declaring he has a clear future in the industry. There were choreographed dances, heartfelt speeches, plenty of photos and vintage rock music to tie it all together.

Before long it was time to head home, to see how Dave had fared (very competently, it turns out) and to rest our tired dancing feet. We weren’t to know until later what else we had managed to bring back with us. For now, we had only happy memories of a night well spent.

The early morning was pierced by sounds of screaming, as my sister and her husband attempted to stealthily rouse their sleeping children to catch an early flight, but for us, more adventures were still to come. First, to a water park nearby, then to Hornsby for Dave to attend a coffee catch up he’d arranged prior. In the meantime, Pa took the kids to watch Sonic 2 at the cinemas – a treat (ridiculously) not allowed for them in Melbourne. Mum and I savoured another chance to dine in at a real Thai restaurant without being asked for our ‘passes’, while we waited for the movie to end, doing some window shopping and admiring the intricate fountain water feature in the outside courtyard.

One thing we all noticed about New South Wales was the very different cultural atmosphere surrounding Covid. Coming from Victoria which could be politely labelled oppressive and totalitarian, our northern compatriots seemed far more relaxed and nonchalant about the whole affair, with hardly a mask or Covid poster in sight. It was intoxicating and rather refreshing. We had good feelings about our trip to come.

Unfortunately, there was a little surprise in store that would turn our entire trip on its head.

We just didn’t know it yet.