The email arrived confirming the reunion: “It’s almost here! It is our 31st yearly gathering and time to think about the future of our Great Institution. The plate will be full of names after this year and the engravings are getting shakier. My eyesight is getting dim. There have been two cancellations due to illness and perhaps it’s time to call it quits. This will be a topic for discussion at Apollo Bay.”
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This was the email Rob received regarding the Wydinya reunion of a group of old mates. These men began meeting when the demands of parenting had eased a little.
They numbered around a dozen or so, depending on the weekend and other calls on their time.
They first met for their weekends in a small holiday house in the Grampians, named Wydinya by the owner. Wydinya was an abbreviation of “Why didn’t you” … following suggestions as to what should be done to improve the small house set in the bush. Such as enlarge the windows, put in a fireplace, connect electricity, have television. All to which the owner would gruffly reply, “no hope”.
These good men were once fearless young turks in the 60s, 70s and 80s.
We were all friends together in the beautiful city of Warrnambool. These good men were our partners, fathers of our children – and in those days the main bread winners in the households. All that changed as we women began to find our feet in the work force and took on more responsibilities. We had children to educate and that meant two salaries and serious careers.
Wydinya followed the same pattern every year, the only change happening when weekends became week days as the men retired. It always began with “registration” at a winery, followed by tippling at various wineries while winding their way towards Wydinya. Dinner was a barbecue, with plenty of red wine no doubt. Beds were blow-up mattresses and sleeping bags on the lounge floor at Wydinya. Lots of indefinable noises in the night.
A breakfast of bacon and eggs, and off to play the challenging golf match with handicaps for everyone … always weighted heavily against whoever had won the previous year. The winner’s name was inscribed on an old aluminium pie dish, hence the comment in the email “there is one space left for this year’s winner”. Afternoons were sometimes spent being lead by an intrepid hiker in the group who always maintained he knew where he was going (and invariably didn’t) and occasionally included a balloon flight or other daring feats.
Dinner was usually at a pub. There were loud discussions around politics and the state of the world, which only became louder as the men grew older and deafer.
Over the years, several families moved to other cities and towns but every year the men returned for Wydinya. The holiday house in the Grampians was eventually sold and accommodation became more comfortable as the years passed. There was always much laughter and joking, never anything too deep and meaningful ... so different to women doing the same weekend together, where deep and meaningfuls would be the order of the day.
Health is becoming an issue. Perhaps it is a good thing that the curtain is coming down before too many more cannot attend the yearly reunion.
To finish on a high is maybe a good decision – only time will tell if they chance another year. They have voted to forego any final decision until next year. Finality is frightening. Wait and see.
ANNIE YOUNG