You can rest easy people – I know you have been on the edge of your seat worrying did she make it to the weekend away? Yes I did. Although in typical shambolic style nothing was easy.

I bought a new outfit late on Thursday night, I returned it for a refund on Friday morning. The family voted unanimously that I couldn’t be allowed out of the house in it, apparently it “didn’t suit my body shape”. I keep forgetting I’ve put on weight and possibly a stretchy wool dress was not the most sensible of choices!

We were still cleaning the house, washing clothes to wear and returning said dress up until 11.00am – at which time we finally hit the highway – now without an outfit to wear to the Blogopolis!

“Don’t worry” says husband “there’s plenty of shops in Sydney you’ll find something”. Trouble was we weren’t gonna arrive at Sydney until 5.00pm!

During the drive we tried to work out when we last went away without our children and it turns out we haven’t, not together. In 15 years we have gone away individually (mostly work conferences for me) and once my mum took the girls for a holiday to Port while we stayed at home in Brisbane working. However, the two of us leaving together to go to the same destination, never.

I found last-minute accommodation at a Travelodge – the dream of the 5 star hotel eaten up by this week’s bills. We argued over directions as I tried to read Google maps on my iPhone while Mr Shambles dealt with newly created one way streets, pedestrians with a death wish and traffic which obviously knew where it was going when we didn’t. It only took a few laps of a very large city block, and an illegal u-turn in front of a fire station before we found the entrance to the hotel car park. Where the disdainful receptionist booked in the “Tuesday specials”, mind you there were three others behind us who had also obviously taken advantage of the $99 a night flash deal on Tuesday also – lucky we had or she would have had nobody to be rude too!

Dumped bags, mad dash to shops. Where the husband spent 2 1/2 hours traipsing around shops watching me try on an assortment of outfits. At one point we accidentally wandered into the designer level of Myer, at which point the arrival of the Bogans from the country was announced in a loud voice by my husband “holy crap that dress costs $5,990, that’s more than what I paid for my car!” Probably explains why we have so many car troubles. He was still exclaiming “there’s hardly any material in it, what are you paying for?” as I pushed him down the escalators.

At one point, after a particularly frightful appearance from me from a dressing room, Mr Shambles was heard to muttered “geeze clothes really are made for skinny chicks”, I was too tired to be insulted. Eventually I found a blazer and shirt that looked OK, when I decided I didn’t really want to spend $200 and decided to wear an old work outfit I had packed, Mr Shambles was too tired to be exasperated. (Note – lucky I did change my mind about the blazer a girl at the next table wore it, she was younger and thinner than me and it would have been awkward when I looked better in it than her).

After the failed shopping expedition we turned our attention to dinner, ending up in a Greek restaurant, food delicious, elderly Greek musicians providing entertainment very loud. So with no children to interrupt us we were still unable to have a conversation because we couldn’t hear each other over the music.

Back at the hotel I had work to do, handwriting my “business cards” ’cause I hadn’t got around to printing any.

The second day of the romantic getaway was spent – well apart – so it went quite well. I was at the blogging conference, Mr Shambles wandered into a dockside bar he used to frequent in his Navy days and found a mate he had served with (what were the chances? Mr Shambles lives in Port Macquarie, his mate in Darwin but they happened to wander into their old bar at the same time!). By the time he found me at the after-conference drinks he’d had a few “for old times sake” and given I had walked quite fast to the after drinks and been the first to arrive at the bar (I did have someone with me I wasn’t drinking alone) I too was happy.

On the final day there was just time for breakfast before we hit the road home. Possibly can’t count this one as an anniversary weekend, probably more an “escaping the kids for 48 hours” weekend.

Stay tuned tomorrow, for “what I learnt at Blogopolis”.