A memory being made
How to remind yourself it's not always about you
This post is from 2025. I’m featuring a few of my most popular posts while I build out the new Morning Musely.
On Sunday I flew back into Australia after 10 days abroad.
My plan was clear. Land in Melbourne after 24 hours in the air from Europe and drive straight to meet my family at the Australian Formula 1 Grand Prix.
You might think that sounded ambitious, but I am pretty good with jet lag (a little tired, but timezone adjustment is fine) and I sleep well on flights (upgrades to flat beds help).
My fatigue wasn’t the issue. It was the weather.
After spending most days in London, Athens, and Amsterdam under cool-mild sunny skies - Melbourne was having some sort of tantrum.
Squalling winds and driving rain meant I was leaving the comforts of Business Class to standing outside like one of those news reporters you see covering a cyclone.
Still, a deal’s a deal!
I hadn’t seen Suze or the kids for 10 days and we were all excited about the Grand Prix. ‘Drive to Survive’ had turned us into devotees of Lewis, Lando, Oscar and Carlos.
So there we were - 3 hours before the race out in the freezing rain in our pink ponchos getting hammered.
And I hated it.
I kept thinking ‘what’s the point?’ and I offered the kids many a chance to find a warm, cosy pub to watch the race on TV.
That’s what I wanted to do.
What they wanted was to spend time with me.
Looking back on it, the weather wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Sure, it wasn’t pleasant (at all) and maybe the pneumonia inducing elements were eased with the constant supply of hot donuts and coffee.
But I wasn’t there for me. I was there for them.
I had to remember that the point of the activity wasn’t cars going round the track 57 times. It was a shared experience. A memory being made. Something that one day we’d look back on and smile about.
“Remember that time we went to the Grand Prix in the pouring rain!”.
If it was a sunny day and the race was just okay, it would have neatly been filed away in the other activities we’d done together. Nothing special.
But this was special. It was a fleeting moment in an otherwise busy life of teenagers with their work-obsessed Dad at at time when they are starting to prefer being with their mates more than me. It was adding to the shoebox of childhood memories that remain in their brains, long after the activity was over.
Always remember to ask yourself - is this all about me?
You’ll probably find the answer is no.
See you in the morning,
Wade