The Yarra Valley in all her splendour

The Yarra Valley in all her splendour. This is the Mercure resort and day spa at Balgownie Estate. I was lucky enough to spend two wonderful wellness days there a fortnight ago.

As you can see from my e-blog there has been a noticeable break in electronic posts since my last post 25th June. It is not that I haven't written anything. It is the exact opposite, I have written so much and all of it has been crap! I have focused on getting into the Exegesis (post last supervision) and it has been disasterous. I am still angry and unable to gather up my positive creative juices. I have written huge tracts of tirade in my book journal (the real hard copy one beside my bed). That at least has allowed me to offload my stress and manage some few half hours of restless tossing and turning which passes as sleep these days.

To fend off depression there is only one sure way...force myself into the sunshine and force myself to exercise. The exercise had to be aerobic and weight bearing, not just stretching and breathing (yoga) and not for relaxation (meditation and hypnotherapy). The exercise drives the body to produce adrenaline, which in turn boosts metabolic rate, and the result is general feeling of wellbeing. Couple this with the (literally) healing power of the suns rays, which contributes endorphins and balances seratonin and melatonin levels, and I am on the way to wellness. Given my mood states have been verging on -2 and paralyisis this last fortnight, it has demanded crucial wellness intervention.

Lucky for me my frequent flyer points (which I take as hotel stays) is offering an end of financial year bonus of 50% off and double points at Mercure hotels, hence the wonderful venue pictured.

Whilst I am having a whinge, though... I hate how more often than not I rearrange my life to fit in with social arrangements only to find that the others involves cancel. I know it is not a fault situation, things do come up, but when one is totally broke and budgets tightly for special occasions, it does feel like a smack in the face. With hotel bookings there are cancellation fees so it always hurts my pocket if I cancel my planned social activity. This one weekend it was not going to happen... my mental health demanded more inner strength from me.

Over a month ago a group of us had decided to attend the Yarra Valley's Shortest Lunch celebration of the winter solstice weekend. Progressively, over the lead up weeks one by one they cancelled. One due to finances (boy I hear you girl), another because husband was unwell, another a wedding, another more family commitments and one had a scheduled interstate trip that had not even been discussed in the rush of optimism whilst promising to attend. It was the wave of positive energy that convinced me to save for this little adventure in the first place. I remain glad I followed through with my plans.

This time I would do what I used to do.

Go on my own.

What propelled this decision was the fact that the wineries that were opening their doors for this event were many of the small family wineries who had been sponsors of my last Uni social evening. I felt obliged to attend in recognition of the difficult times they had survived after the bushfires of black saturday, and the general business and tourism decline which beset the valley over the past year or more. A successful event like this would be a morale booster for the whole region; vignerons, providores, musicians, hospitality staff, tour bus companies, basically everybody in the Valley would reap rewards. Even the CFA were set to benefit from $2 per tasting glass.

Saying that the Valley needed a huge success is a perfect summation. It definitely was and an event I am marking down on my calendar in RED INK annually. It was so much nicer than the Mornington Peninsula Pinot weekend. I'm unsure if that is because of the pretentioousness of some MP vignerons, or the often lacklustre blends produced yet still marketted at top commercial prices.

This event had the feeling of community that the MP winter weekend just can't get a handle on. I loved the shuttle buses to ensure non-drink driving, as did TAC breath analysers. (Well organised G... you are my designated driver next year, agreed?)

How to describe the day(s). I intended to ndo just one day, the Saturday. This was the day when the sun shone brightest and fought off every onslaught of ponderous grey clouds. I adored many of the musicians (this is when I felt lacking in companionship, where I could sit over a bottle, alongside the fires, just relaxing and listening). But then again if I had been with people I would have missed the opportunity to meet one guitarist who actually lives on the MP and plays Saturday nights at La Baracca Trattoria at T'Gallant winery in Red Hill, or the wonderful Barbara Jeffreys on her Celtic/Patagonian harp.

Yep, that's correct, both Patagonian and Celtic and much more easily transported than a traditional Baroque harp ( which she also owns and plays). This marvellous instrument sits only five feet high, and is single stringed, yet the melodious tone transported me back to the 'old country'. Her voice is a clear mezzo so well suited to the traditional Irish folk melodies. I met Barbara over lunch in the cellar at Graeme Millers Winery, and what an accoustic space. An old man requested Danny Boy and I can honestly say the moment she performed this 'tear-jerker' I was mesmerized. So much so, I bought her CD. That's the least creatives can do is support one another.

Barbara is a teacher on extended leave hoping that music can generate enough income to not return to the classroom. In between gigs in the Valley she is touring with the Ten Sopranos... (OMG... can you imagine ten divas and their egos, although she assures me the egotists have been weeded out). She is also a colleague of my co-PhDer Mark Carthew, and they both share a mentor in the ex-Swinburne University lecturer Barbara Van Ernst.

How wonderful to be a 'colony' of artists all living in such a picturesque place and able to know each other. That is exactly what I like about living in a smaller community, only where I live is small but has not 'arts-based' centre. There are artists, predominantly visual artists but unless one is in a couple and associated directly with the other artists, the society is not open to 'solos'. Like most small communities a single woman is often 'locked out', so I can only fantasize about being a part of such a cohort of creatives.

This sense of being 'partnerless' in a world of couples is what drives the popularity of chick lit novels, with the single career women socialising after work with a group of single companions. These city groups spend their recreation time together doing things just like the 'shortest lunch'.

What does this mean for my future choices? City-based where income is the determinant of social inclusivity? Or rural and isolated but where the beauty fills every sense and keeps me well? Is there no happy medium?

Much to ponder when I finally get back into writing my novel. What do women do in this situation? Is it any wonder so many remain married trapped within unhappy relationships, as the alternatives remain less attractive. How sad that our society tries to make the nuclear family the site of normalcy. So much grief, saddness, and loneliness hidden within a veneer of happy-family and secure-partnership?