I always knew I was going to be rich. I don’t think I ever doubted it for a minute.– Warren Buffet
There’s a hill in Yallingup. Just one hill featuring about 150 homes of some of the most exclusive real estate on the planet. I’m holidaying there. Well almost. I’m at the bottom of the hill. Taking up residence in a 6 metre by 6 metre campsite in the caravan park by the beach. But everyday I take the hill at breakneck speed to keep up an exercise campaign that started 7 weeks ago. And I get a glimpse of life on the hill. Along the way I look at ever-renovating home projects, hear the music and conversations from big and small parties, watch family groups stroll to and from the beach, and then move deftly to the kerb as P plate drivers glide by in the latest 4WD. It’s a life of luxury and ease.
So this early morning I sit in my camping chair, to one side I look up at the hill and to the other, I see our small city of tents, eskies, and a rope clothesline tethered between a trailer and tent kitchen filled with sandy jocks and yesterday’s wet towels. So I ask myself, ‘Where do you want to be?’
No need to pause. No need for a second question. Right here. Right now. Surrounded by my husband, three sons, their mates and their mess. Calls for more food and more sunscreen. Constant queries over lost clothes, lost wallets and technology chargers. Bragging over body surfing and tanning lines.
A kerbside game of cricket and kicking around of the football with delineated goals between parked cars and semi permanent caravans.
This is the fifteenth year of the Yallingup camping holiday. And though the boys have grown to men, the fun and laughter and card playing is as rich as ever. Too rich to measure.