After the success of Brisbane we decided to stay in Queensland for as long as possible before having to travel back down to Sydney. We moved 50 km's along the coast to a place called Surfers Paradise which pretty much does what it says on the tin. It's quite commercial but given that we are out of season it is pretty quiet. The beach is breathtakingly beautiful and we have been spending most of our time there.
The main demographic the place is aimed at is the late teens and early twenties and at night they have stands on the streets where people attempt to thrust leaflets into your hand to get you to sign up for the latest club party or party on a boat or foam party and the like. Now in over a week i have not been approached once -NOT ONCE - by these people who are working on commission to fill these places with anyone. Everyday i try to walk a bit closer and maintain eye contact but they just look the other way or pretend to be looking underneath their stands. They obviously think that my best partying days are behind me, well i'll show them. I'm going to get get invited to a crap over priced club party before the week is out - watch this space.
I got up at quarter to five to watch Liverpool get beaten by Chelsea and then spent the morning on the beach hungover, depressed eating a meat pie and getting sunstroke (i think the picture above illustrates my mood perfectly).
Sandra and i have been engrossed (or in her case engrosed) in a reality T.V programme over here called 'The Biggest Loser'; fifteen likeable normal people have to lose weight and the biggest loser well... wins. It is extremely effective as the people do not care less about being on the cover of heat magazine as soon as the show is over. Last night was the final and about fifteen minutes before they announced the winner the television in our motel decided, of it's own accord, to retune itself rendering all the channels useless. Sandra turned as angry as i have ever seen her and was on the verge of walking into the locals pub over the road to tell them to turn the aussie rules football off and get the diet show on or demanding that the motel manager let her watch his telly. In the end i didn't have to restrain her from doing so as the telly magically clicked back on with three minutes to go. She still looked on the verge of angry tears when the winner Sam was announced.
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