The Boat House

Hobbsy 

Back when I was in a relationship, my girlfriends used to tell me that I should have some time alone. "You need to be alone for a while", they used to say, "you really need some time alone". And now that I'm alone, I can't work out what is meant to be so great about it. 


Take yesterday, for instance. I was still at Sydney's Northern Beaches - alone - and found an amazing space called The Boathouse, which is part restaurant, part flower-stall, part boat-dock. It was an adorable  spot, but - being alone  - I had no-one to "ooh"and "ahh" with about how wonderful it was so I sat there having a glass of wine with my fish and chips. Alone. 


Did I mention I was alone? 


Half way through my chip butty (you can take her out of England but you can't take England out of her)  I decided that, as much as I love my friends, they have not got one single clue what they are on about. Being alone might be fulfilling and it might lead you to an ultimately more satisfying relationship in the end, and it might teach you to appreciate your own company, but it's boooooring. So I got in the car and drove back to Sydney to be back with my ex-fiance (remember, the good-looking one with the cute butt?) and our old dog Russell Hobbs, better known as Hobbsy for short. 


As it happens, the ex-fiance had gone to Canberra for a charity event and was staying down there at a caravan park.  As lonely as I was, I wasn't lonely enough for a night in a caravan park. So instead I called up a friend of mine Toni, who being the good Australian that she is, invited me over for a BBQ. I headed over there for a glass of wine and was delighted to learn that she had also previously been to The Boathouse, so we coo'd over the place for a good half hour, followed by a further 20 minutes of shared adoration for the cupcake holders sold in the Donna Hay Store, and I was almost back to my old self. 


The one last thing I knew I needed was a cuddle.  I politely declined staying for the food and headed home to  change into my pyjamas and curl up on the couch with Hobbsy. I made a plate of Beans on Toast for the two of us to share for dinner, followed by a dessert of pretty much all of the ex-fiance's Lindt chocolate, then I tickled her tummy  as we watched a CSI Miami omnibus together. 


It occured to me that when my girlfriends said I needed time alone, what they meant was I needed time without a boyfriend. Time spent single. Time spent with no significant other, no Plus One. 


They didn't mean time without Hobbsy. 


ps, Note to ex-fiance: if you're reading this, I didn't really let Hobbsy up on the couch. Nor did I give her any chocolate. And I definately did not let her sleep on the bed with me. No way. 

The Boat House, Palm Beach