Straya Day

Australia Day arrives every year but being English and having a South African hubby and the kids all doing their own thing, we do not really celebrate (not that we ever really did). In fact, I find myself reading about the horrors of the British invasion, and thinking, christ "what pricks the Birtish were (still are!).

This year, however, Australia Day arrived with teenagers. We did this in 2024 and distinctly remember saying “never again.” But like childbirth, the memory softens, and suddenly you’re making the same catastrophic decisions.

At approximately midday-ish, a pack of them materialised in the garden like a poorly supervised wildlife documentary. Starting quietly and the volume starts to rise. Armed with speakers that only play bass you can feel in your internal organs. Someone cracked open a drink. Someone else cracked open another. Then another. Then time lost all meaning.

By 4:30pm, one was vomiting. I found them sitting quietly, having a little nap by the WC.

Meanwhile, the dogs lost their collective minds. Barking like we were under siege. Every laugh, every shriek, every dropped can was apparently a direct threat to national security. They are locked away, listening to their dog relaxing music.

The kids were in and out of the bathroom on a loop. Slam. Flush. Slam. Flush. Someone asking, “Is this the bathroom?” Visiting the bathroom in packs? Mmmmmm?

And my husband. Oh, my husband.He hit the “absolutely f***ing over it” phase when he witnessed someone using the front garden as the bathroom. The look of a man who did not sign up to be running a regional nightclub out of his backyard.

And yet, somewhere between the barking dogs, the vomiting, the bathroom traffic and the quiet fury of a man dreaming of silence, I realised: this is Australia Day.

Messy. Loud. Slightly unhinged. Full of people who are living life to the full, young adults, who remind us life is for living. Yes, they drank too much. Yes, they were loud. But the laughter, the squealed stories, and the wild enthusiasm, entirely powered by alcohol, were fabulous. A generation of beautiful and kind young souls with manners and respect.

God bless Australia. Next year, I’m going out.