Last Day - 58 - Hong Kong

Nothing to report today as we haven't left the hotel, Dave still mightily poorly so we're just looking forward to being at home tomorrow afternoon.

This is The Smiths signing off.

Day 57 Hong Kong

Dave is feeling a bit better this morning so after my morning jaunt around the jogging track we take a ferry to Lamma Island. About a twenty minute ferry ride across the harbour. There's not much there apart from lots of seafood restaurants, a cross island walk, some beaches and a power station, but still it's chilled and laid back and a nice spot to spend a Saturday afternoon.

After a delicious lunch (our first proper food since Weds) of salt and chilli aubergine, chinese greens with garlic and rice and noodles we take the ferry back to Hong Kong Island and hot foot it home as Dave is feeling rough again.

Tomorrow will be our last day here and it's a shame we haven't done all the things we were so excited about. I'm not sure yer man will be up to much tomorrow I just hope he'll be ok for the flight home on Monday.

Boxing Day Hong Kong

Dave is still very poorly this morning and unable to leave his sick bed. I'm left with no choice but to join the throngs on the jogging track in Victoria Park to work off my Christmas Day excesses.

There are strict rules about how to behave on the jogging track, mainly one way only and no walking or obstructing of joggers. I'm the only westerner on the track and look like Paula Radcliffe compared to how slow some people are "jogging', some are blatantly flouting the rules by walking. I lose count on how many laps of 600 metres I've done but it's at least four, OK for not having done any exercise for goodness knows how many months.

After a lunch of Philadelphia cheese and bread it's off to mooch round the shopping area close to our hotel. Busy, noisy, not much English spoken and I don't spend a bean.

Dave meanwhile hasn't even noticed that I've been in and out, the poor love is in a sorry state and if there's no improvement tomorrow we'll call in a doctor. If only to allay his fears that he may have Dengue Fever. (Regular blog readers may remember his brief brush with Dengue in the Philippines.) To make matters worse he's found a bar round the corner that will be showing the match. At least we're able to listen to Five Live on the internet as we have a connection in our room.

We're both a little miserable and pining for Green Lanes.

Christmas Day Hong Kong

We wake up to the sun rising over Hong Kong harbour viewed through our enormous windows in our suite. Dave is feeling a bit better so after a quick browse through the South China Morning Post we're off to explore.

Turns out that Hong Kong has its very own Vicky Park where people are jogging, doing tai chi and playing with their motorised boats in the boating lake. There are also lots of Filipino ladies gathered together to enjoy one of their rare days off. They mostly work as maids and on public holidays get together to eat copious amounts of food as only someone from the Philippines can.

From the park we walk along the waterfront looking out to Kowloon, there's lots of boat traffic coming and going including the dinky little boats that some people still live on. No sign of any junks though. About an hour into our first foray and Dave takes a turn for the worse. He has a temperature that's almost hotter than the sun so we amble back and tuck him up in bed. It doesn't affect his vanity though so on our way back to the hotel he manages to fit in a much needed haircut.

I decide that I will go to the restaurant and have some "Christmas" lunch. I opt for the steamed seasonal vegetables in oyster sauce and rice with a glass of wine. Seasonal vegetables turns out to be steamed lettuce. The worst Christmas lunch I've ever had - fact.

I cheer myself up by popping up to the rooftop pool on the 32nd floor. Tom, if you're reading this stop right now. It really is on the roof with only a chest high glass wall to stop me falling 32 floors to the pavement. Why do you always get that urge to climb over and jump? More views and more pictures of skyscrapers are captured before returning to the ailing patient who seems to be getting worse.

The rest of the evening is spent listening to 5 live on the internet and calling home. Colin my brother brings me close to tears with talk of turkey, bread sauce and red cabbage, then mum compounds it by telling me about her slightly different recipe for Christmas pud this year -sniff. I settle on some Philadelphia cheese on a roll that I manage to track down in a supermarket round the corner.

Happy Christmas everyone.

Day 54 - Bali to Singapore to Hong Kong

It's me Wend again, nothing much to report from day 54 except a very early start at 6am sees Dave feeling unwell.

He sleeps all the way to Hong Kong and goes straight to bed when we reach our hotel at 7pm this evening.

We did manage to see the Hong Kong skyline that we all know so well and it's breathtaking in real life, from both the bus and our suite on the 21st floor. Yes suite - a horrible mistake in our booking sees us upgraded for one night.

I feel a bit like Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation looking out into the Hong Kong night from my high vantage point.

Let's hope yer man feels better in the morning.

Day 53, Ubud to Kuta, Bali

Our last morning in Ubud so we decide to take the walking track along the river for a last amble through the countryside.

A short taxi ride and we are at the start of the track where we are of course accosted by a young man shouting “Scuse me sir, you need a guide?”

Dave: “Is ok, we don’t need guide” (Adopting pigeon English he saves for moments like this.)

Young Man: “Yes sir, I think you need guide, very good price”

Dave: “ I said no”

The young man is accompanied by Alex from Sussex who now lives in Italy (she works at a very exclusive winery too). She explains that she has already hired him so we negotiate him down from 150,000 to 100,000 rupiah for all three of us (about seven quid).

It turns out to be one of our most memorable mornings in Bali and the young man’s name is Gusti. He leads us through jungle and rice fields. Makes us wade across the river and cross it again balancing on two logs that serve as a bridge. We laugh and joke and and stop to gasp at a snake eating a frog.

We finish the walk two hours later at Made’s Warung overlooking the rice fields for one of the best lunches we’ve had and thank Gusti heartily for our fabulous morning – we all agree to pay him the 150,000 rupiah he wanted originally with lunch thrown in for good measure.

Gusti makes his living by waiting at the start of the track to guide tourists along this magnificent walk that we wouldn’t have been able to do without him as we would have got hopelessly lost. At 22 years old he is the breadwinner of his house and looks after his parents and pays for his younger brother’s schooling. It serves as a reminder that the Balinese are gentle, generous and kind people. So if you’re ever in Ubud and fancy tracing our footsteps let us know and we can give you Gusti’s number.

We’ve really enjoyed your company too Alex - enjoy your last few gin and tonics in Bali and we’ll see you in Tuscany.

And then it was back to chaotic Kuta and we return to the hotel we stayed at when we first arrived to a warm welcome from the staff who are glad to see us again. We say goodbye to Bali where we began by watching the sun go down over the hprizon while drinking an ice cold Bintang.

Day 52 Ubud, Bali

We wake this morning to another torrential tropical torrent but decide it might be nice to go for a walk after brekko anyway.

Ever since we've been in Ubud I've wanted to go the Organik Cafe in the middle of the rice fields where they grow their own fruit and veg and run a campaign to promote production of Bali's finest rices.

Armed with umbrellas we eventually find the turn off for the cafe but not before the monsoon starts again. The rain doesn't detract from the beauty and peacefulness of the twenty minute walk through the soggy rice fields to the cafe. We take shelter and have a delicious lunch with rice and vegetables from the organic garden while watching the rows of ducks waddling between the fields and clearly enjoying the downpour.

On the way back we come across a lady who offers us a fresh coconut, she hacks off the outer shell and opens the top and gives it to us to drink the milk. It's cool and refreshing and doesn't come any fresher than this. Our feet on the other hand couldn't be more un-fresh, covered in mud, soggy and cold we slip and slide our way back to our hotel.

This is our last full day here in Ubud as we leave for the chaotic Kuta tomorrow. Christmas and Hong Kong are beckoning and the decorations and Santa hats certainly seem incongruous in the tropical climate.

Day 51 Ubud, Bali.

We've done enough loafing around for a couple of days so it's time to get active. And no better way than going for a 40km bike ride under the supervision of our friendly guide Made. Blimey - 40 kilometres.

We drive up to the largest active volcano in Bali and then freewheel all the way back into Ubud over the course of about 4 hours passing through villages and rice fields and taking in the odd temple along the way. It's a fab way of getting off the beaten track and we're joined by Tanya (who was married yesterday), her son Dylan, their friend Debra from Singpaore (and for those of you in advertising, Debra is in new business for BBH Singapore - nice!) and last but not least two very jovial Belgians Kris and Yanik. A merry band indeed and a good time is had by all, not least because we all tuck into a stonking three course lunch and ice cold Bintang (Indonesian beer) when we reach base camp.

Thanks you lot for a great day.

Day 50. Ubud, Bali

Well that's it, we've been turfed out of paradise. The wonderful Alam Indah had a room for us for last night only so we move to the centre of "town".

We say farewell too to Michail and Tanya who are getting married today after being together for sixteen years - the only people at the ceremony will be their two children and a friend from Singapore. Congratulations you two.

The rest of the day is spent mooching around and then in the evening we wander up to Ubud Palace to watch some traditional Balinese dancing and gamelon music (cue yawn from Dave). It is in fact mesmorising as I assured him it would be with very precise movements of every part of the body including the eyes. The costumes are pretty speccy too (that's Australian for special).

We've had some delicious Indonesian scran today too. Sluuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrppppppppp!

Day 49. Ubud, Bali.

Today we move inland to Ubud, the cultural and creative heart of Bali.

We're staying in a village called Nyunkhining separated from the centre of Ubud by the sacred Monkey Forest. The Balinese believe the monkeys protect them and there's a temple dedicated to them in the middle of the forest. The cheeky chappies therefore have the run of the place and will think nothing of picking your pockets for the odd banana, toffee or indeed make off with your wallet. (They're a bit like The Boy in that respect Matty and Selina.)

The other thing to mention is that we're staying in the most beautiful place we've ever been to. It's a series of traditional Balinese villas and rooms all hidden from each other by lush gardens and trees. The paths and steps through the gardens have lots of traditional Balinese statues covered in moss and offerings to the gods, and at night lanterns light all the walkways - it's just like being on the set of Tomb Raider.

It overlooks the forest and rice terraces and is so tranquil. We have a huge room with a day bed for hanging out on our verandah and a bathroom which is open to the outside, all furnished to the highest Balinese standards. At bedtime we have the windows open and the noise of the forest is almost deafening - the frogs shouting louder than anything else. It really can be described as paradise and at 35 quid a night unbelievable value.

We did make a brief sorjourn into town, coming face to face with the monkeys along the way, and after a delicious lunch treated ourselves to a pedicure, Dave deciding not to go for the nail polish option.

Day 48. Kuta, Bali

Our first tropical downpour hits this morning which Dave slept through because he didn't hear it as he was wearing earplugs. His dreaded nemesis the mosquito made a return in the night buzzing around his very tanned ears.

Wearing earplugs isn't as effective as wearing repellent so now the refrain of "Where is..." has changed to "I'm covered in bites..." By way of consolation we splash out on dinner and spend 5 quid on a main course which would have Gordon Ramsey down here in a flash to sort out the kitchen nightmare that is dinner served on a skewer.

We spotted Stuey lurking in the garden this afternoon too.

That's all that happened today so to avoid repetition tomorrow I'm off to put the mosquito net up.

Day 47. Kuta, Bali

Salamat datang (hello in Indonesian), it's me Wend again.

Now that we've arrived in Bali Dave has decided to take another break. That's what island life does to you so I'm back for another few days.

I was last in Bali 12 years ago and it's changed, lots of development of hotels, restaurants, shops and the ubiquitous Macdonalds. It's almost unrecognisable but there are still loads of mopeds which you have to skirt around in the narrower streets and alleys. We are staying in a gorgeous hotel though with a lush courtyard and swimming pool which provides us with an oasis of calm.

One thing that hasn't changed is the stunning sunsets from Kuta beach so we spent the late afternoon sitting there watching the locals play beach footie and the sun going down over the horizon.

Day 46. Singapore

When we last came to Singapore a couple of years ago we were archetypal backpackers; scruffy, broke and happy to do stuff that wouldn’t eat into our budget, like sightseeing and visiting a museum or two.

This time, we decide to do things with a bit more panache.

The posh clobber we wore for the Hoad’s wedding is still lurking in the bottom of our bags, so we give it a shake, run an iron over it and head for the Raffles Hotel.

It’s only the Abramovich’s of this world who can actually afford to stay at Raffles, but as long as you’re not dressed in shorts and sandals, or Welsh, they’re happy to let you into the bar for a Singapore Sling.

And what a bar it is. The attention to detail is stunning; rich teak paneling on the walls, exquisite tiling on the floors and as for the ceiling fans…

Bloody hell, how tedious is it when people start talking about ceiling fans?

Anyway, you get the picture, it’s a classy joint, and a gorgeous place to sink a couple of Dry Martinis (the Singapore Slings were rubbish).

Continuing with the colonial theme for the evening, we hail a rickshaw to take us to our next watering hole - the less elegant but even swankier Equinox bar that sits at the top of Singapore’s tallest skyscraper.

At 71 floors above street level, the only thing more astronomical than the views are the drinks, so we only stay for a quickie before reverting to backpacker mode and heading for a £3 all you can eat curry back where we’re staying.

Day 45. Brisbane, Queensland

We're liking Brisbane a lot. It's more cosmopolitan than we’d expected; blessed with plenty of green open spaces, great shops (so I finally manage to replace my camera) and a fair quota of decent bars.

It’s in one of these where we start the day, enjoying a showing of yesterday’s Portsmouth v Newcastle game. And 3-0 to the Toon puts me in a marvelous mood for the rest of the day.

In the evening we visit a part of the city that reminds us a lot of the South Bank back home. Little wonder really, as the area sits alongside the river, has a string of theatres, cinemas, bars etc. and even a floodlit Ferris wheel. This is considerably smaller than the London Eye but still high enough to give Wend the willies.

Later, we find out what the neighbourhood's called...The South Bank.

Obviously.

Day 44. Brisbane, Queensland

Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to be cool, and today was one of those days.

We’d done our research on Brisbane and decided to stay in the bohemian/grungy/painfully trendy Fortune Valley neighbourhood. No boring city centre hotel for us, no, we are way too sophisticated for that, and go where the in-crowd go.

And to be fair, the vibe in Fortune Valley is pretty good – lots of live music, a quirky little Art house cinema and an interesting mix of people in the bars and cafes.

But our accommodation – which we’d paid for in advance – was shocking. Filthy rooms, really bloody noisy and ‘Managed’ by a fat Brummy retard who thought Wend was unreasonable to complain about the blood on the bathroom walls.

“Probably someone with a chipped tooth love, what’s the big deal? Why don’t you just use our other bathroom?”

So we checked out and took a cab to a boring city centre hotel.

Which is exactly what we should have done in the first place.

Day 43. Magnetic Island, Queensland

An almighty punch up in our room this afternoon left us heavily traumatised and in need of a calming beer.

I was lying on the bed reading, when a Hornet buzzed past my ear. Of course, this being Australia, the thing was the size of a small bird with barbed wire wings and a syringe full of hydrochloric acid hanging from its arse.

We’ve seen some scary stuff in Queensland, but this critter took the biscuit.

But it got worse. The bloke in the next cabin reckoned he was an authority on the Aussie Hornet and told us it was probably looking to build a nest.

He reassured us by saying: “If you kill it, you’ll be fine, but it’s a hospital job if it stings you”.

Which turned out to be easier said than done.

Attempt to swat it like a fly and there was every chance I’d miss. Miss, and it’d be so angry it would surely kill everything within a five mile radius.

I needed a clean shot, but the thing flew behind our luggage and nestled down, seemingly for a nice kip.

What we needed, was a plan.

If Wend could lift the bag quickly enough she’d catch him dozing, I could then nip in and flatten it before it knew what was going on.

Easy.

So she lifts the bag, but before I can do anything, she lets out a scream and runs from the room.

Turns out, the Hornet wasn’t snoozing at all, he was halfway through a massive barney with a spider. And because it was an Australian spider, it was the size of rat, with horrible fangs a serious attitude.

It was a fight to the death and - to be honest - we didn’t want to get involved.

Eventually, the Hornet came out on top – paralysing his foe before settling down to nibble bits from the poor sod’s face.

Charming.

Fortunately, this meant his defences were down and he didn’t see me as I sneaked up with 432 pages of dog-eared Bill Bryson in hand to knock him senseless.

It only dawned on us later, that unless we’d gone Hornet hunting, we wouldn’t have found the spider. And believe me, you don’t want something that size snuggling up to your scrotum in the middle of the night.

Day 42. Magnetic Island, Queensland

Before handing the car back, we make our way out to the uninhabited west side of the island.

There’s a whole lot of nothing out there. Just swamp, mangroves and a solitary track that we’re warned not to drive along.

It doesn’t look promising at first, but after walking for 20 minutes or so, we realise there’s more going on than immediately meets the eye. If we keep still, and concentrate on one patch of water, it isn’t long before a Mudskipper or two skates into view. These are fabulous creatures; half fish, half Ja Ja Binks, with eyes sitting on top of their heads like a couple of miniature ping pong balls. Very odd.

Wend then spots a black and white ringed Sea snake. It’s a beauty, probably only 2 feet in length, but packing enough venom to cut short anyone’s holiday.

We don’t bother having a paddle.

Day 41. Magnetic Island, Queensland

We push the boat out today and hire a Mini Moke so we can explore the other side of the island.

It’s great.

No doors or windows, no brakes to speak of, and a gearbox lifted from Stephenson’s Rocket, it has a top speed of 25 mph and the turning circle of an ocean going liner. But it’s cool in both senses of the word, and we love it.

Day 40. Magnetic Island, Queensland

One of the island’s more challenging walks is to a decommissioned gun emplacement that sits high on the southern headland.

Constructed in the early 1940’s to protect shipping coming in and out of Townsville, it never got to fire a shell in anger. But when you consider that the Japanese controlled most of the South Pacific at that time, you can understand why the locals went to such lengths to build the thing.

A notice at the start of the trail warns us to ‘Beware of Death Adders’. Now, I’m no David Attenborough, but when it comes to working out what an animal excels at, I know there’s often a clue in its name.

Your Woodpecker, for example, is pretty adept at knocking little holes in trees, while there’s no better creature at skipping across a meadow than a Grasshopper.

So we check the Death Adder message once more to make sure we read it correctly – which we have – then look down at our shorts and open-toed sandals and wonder if a trip to the beach might be a better idea.

Fortunately, we choose to press on, and the only wildlife we encounter is a little Koala fast asleep in the branches of a Eucalyptus tree.


Which is nice.

Day 39. Magnetic Island, Queensland

We’re up early to take the short ferry ride across to Magnetic Island. Only 20 minutes from the mainland, yet in terms of atmosphere and scenery, it seems a million miles away.

The place is just gorgeous. Barely 5 miles from tip to sun-drenched tip, it is crammed with secluded bays, dramatic walking tracks and a view around every corner.

The only slight drawback is the humidity, which is beginning to grind us down, especially at night when the breeze drops and the stickiness becomes unbearable.

With this in mind, I decide to lie to the manageress of our YHA. Insisting that I requested air-conditioned accommodation when making our online booking.

She’s full of apologies and upgrades us immediately at no extra cost. I feel a little guilty having nabbed one of the few cabins with A/C, especially when we overhear the rest of the guests moaning about their stifling, airless digs.

But not that guilty. The expression ‘shy kids get nowt’ springing to mind.

Day 38. Townsville, Queensland.

4 hours on a bus this morning takes us up the Queensland coast to Townsville (about 2mm further according to our map. Lord knows how long the journey would be if we wanted to travel a distance of any significance).

It’s and odd place Townsville, and only after a shaky start does it start to win us over. As we step off the bus we can’t help noticing an all pervading stench of cow dung in the air. Not exactly what we’d been expecting from north Queensland’s major port, and the hotter it became in the afternoon humidity, the worse the whiff got. Very strange.

Then, when we arrive at our hostel we find our room hasn’t been cleaned or made up (a minor grump this, but a grump nevertheless).

And finally, neither of the camera shops in town carry the replacement model I’m after (more of a major grump this – I mean, Cannon isn’t exactly a obscure brand is it? And this is a town with a population of over 165,000. Pah!).

Anyway, no camera, so no photography to brighten the blog until we reach the civilisation of Brisbane.

Our luck begins to change when we make our way to the Aquarium. An imposing building by the harbour where all manner of weird and wonderful sealife hangs out.

The bloke selling tickets is an amenable old stick and lets us in for half price because they’re closing within the hour. This suits us nicely as we only really want to see the Leopard sharks, the Seahorses and those pesky Box jellyfish that make swimming so hazardous around here.

We then take a pleasant early evening stroll along the waterfront where, over a cool beer, the waitress explains why the town stinks so badly of cow poo.

She points to a large cruise liner moored to a jetty across the bay.

Look closely, and you’ll see there’s no swimming pool, quoits deck or children’s entertainment officer. No, this particular liner is where the majority of the region’s cattle spend their last few days before being shipped off to some God forsaken abattoir in New South Wales.

The ship is immense, and only when the six or seven decks are full does the thing set sail.

It’s enough to turn anyone vegetarian, she says.

Yep, can’t argue with that, I reply, before ordering my beef and sweet basil stirfry.

Days 35-37, Airlie Beach, Queensland

Hats off to the missus for filling in on blog duty while I shun all things technical after losing the camera. This put me in a foul mood for a couple of days, but I’m over it now, especially since Wend pointed out that our insurance will cover the cost of the latest model.

Anyway, it’s back to reality today as we trade the sublime 5 star luxury of Hayman Island for the sub-prime functionality of Airlie Beach youth hostel.

We loved our stay in Nobsville, but to be honest we’re happy to be back where we belong; slumming it with the hoi polloi. The only people who bothered smiling or indeed talking to us out on the island were the waitresses – and they were paid to be nice. The guests were the biggest set of snooty sods we’ve ever had the displeasure to come across.

Money might have bought them their designer swimsuits, their tacky Versace eveningwear and their ludicrous Louis Vuiton luggage, but it sure hasn’t bought them any class.

The youth hostel doesn’t provide matching his ‘n’ her fluffy white dressing gowns, sunset cocktails at £12 a pop or beautifully manicured floodlit tennis courts, but it’s clean, genuinely welcoming and a tenner a head to stay the night.

Yes, this will do nicely for the next few days.

Day 34 - Hayman Island to Airlie Beach, Queensland

Our last morning on Hayman and my last entry for a while too.

Nothing much to report except another morning of extreme loafing before being dropped off at the marina for our boat ride back to the mainland.

We get chatting to the lovely Sam who has been working at the Spa for the day and she offers us a lift from the harbour back to the YHA. We also get chatting to a very nice chap called Kieran who has just performed a wedding ceremony at the resort. These crazy Aussies don't call Kieran a Registrar nope they call him a Celebrate - what the flip? Dave pointed out that it sounded like celibate and Kieran came right back with "Oh mate, try saying that you are authorised to solemnise the marriage when you've had a few jars". All this hilarity deflects our attention away from the camera which gets left behind on the boat - D'oh!

Yes Steve, another cry from Dave "Where is...?"

Many phone calls fail to locate the camera so no amusing pics to go with this entry I'm afraid, or of Sam who after checking into her hotel joins us for a fish and chip supper. She has threatened to come to London and we have of course have offered up The Nest so you'll probably meet her in due course anyway. (Note to self to start a booking diary for The Nest.)

Well that's it. Thanks for listening.

Dave over to you...

Day 33 - Hayman Island, Queensland

Another lazy day spent by the pool, wandering along the beach and swimming.

One of the daily highlights is the flight of the bats. There's a large colony of fruit bats living in the trees behind our room. During the day they squabble and squawk as they jockey for the coolest and breeziest positions high in the branches. Once dusk falls they're full of beans and swoop and circle the resort as they make their way off to another island for their nightly scoff. There's hundreds of them and they look like loads of Batman signals being beamed into the orange sky. The posh people of course aren't interested as they're all in the bar quaffing their sundowners so we have the nightly show all to ourselves.

That's it for luxury for us now, we're back on the Sun Goddess tomorrow to whisk us back to lovely Airlie Beach. We do indulge ourselves though by watching the last two episodes of The Sopranos before bed - remember, crime doesn't pay folks.

Night night. xx

Day 32 - Hayman Island, Queensland

Up early today for a swim before brekko then off to a little bay by boat for some snorkelling. All the usual suspects are down there - no not Jan and Pete Broon but parrot fish, sergeant major fish, a big hump headed wrasse and some nice soft corals but rubbish visibility which means we won't bother diving here.

A game of tennis late afternoon comfirms me as the worst player, so our "game" is abondoned in favour of plain old bat and ball. Meldrew of course is briliant and books a tennis lesson for tomorrow to improve on his already great game. Obviously this had made Ebony the tennis coach's day as she clearly fancies the man in the black socks and brown trainers.

Normally we don't talk about our dinners but Dave has been persuaded by the waitress to have the 730g lobster cooked in soy, chilli and lime at the very nice Oriental Restaurant (cue the second outing for our wedding togs). Everything we have is delicious and when our bill arrives I nearly fall off my chair to see that Dave's lobster rocks in at a massive 170 Australian dollars. Flip me, that's 70 quid. Lucky then that our three course dinners are included in our room rate - result, get in!

Mr Smith retires happy knowing that he has well and truly got his money's worth. We watch another episode of The Sopranos and are left gobsmacked - they really are a nasty bunch.

Day 31 - Hayman Island, Queensland

And it's hello from me. I hope I can be as entertaining as old Smuffty Tuffty over the next few days as he takes a well earned rest from blogging.

We've taken a super sleek boat aptly named Sun Godess to the luxurious Hayman Island Resort. We're amongst the Aussie noveau riche here which bears out the claim that money can't buy you style. There's lots of Gucci, Chanel etc most of which is worn badly or just plain ostentatiously. Never mind - it is gorgeous and very, very hot.

We have the text book paradise island retreat - tourquoise sea, the largest pool in the southern hemisphere, a member of staff on hand to cater to your every whim and a room with a view - blimey what a view.

Our first day here is largely a day of doing nothing except lounging, swimming, eating and having cocktails before dinner (for which we have to don our posh togs, lucky we had Caz and Hoady's wedding at the start of this trip otherwise we wouldn't have been allowed in to any of the restaurants here).

Our evening is complete when we watch one of the final episodes of The Sopranos from the air conditioned comfort of our very large bed that holds the world record for the most amount of pillows and cushions on one bed.

Rosie, you would approve of our new found taste for a whole new level of luxury.

Day 30. Airlie Beach, Queensland

One of the joys of keeping the itinerary fairly loose is that we can pick up the odd bargain when it comes to accommodation. Today, we pull off one of our sweetest deals yet by blagging a stupidly cheap rate on one of the swanky resorts out on the Whitsunday Islands.

We'll be heading out tomorrow to the 5 star, uber luxurious Hayman retreat. Playground to the rich, famous and beautiful.

We don't really qualify on any of these counts, but I get news today that Joe Kinnear has been appointed as the new Newcastle manager which bags me £80 at the bookies and can't wait to blow my winnings.

I'm not very good at writing about posh places so will be handing the blogging reigns over to Wend for the next few days.

Day 29. Airlie Beach, Queensland

Three flights and thirteen hours on the go gives us an inkling of how preposterously huge this country is.

We’re halfway up the Queensway coast now, having swapped cold and soggy Tasmania for somewhere more suited to shorts and a t-shirts. It’s been a knackering day, but the good news is that on first impressions Airlie Beach seems right up our street.

Gateway to the implausibly pretty Whitsunday Islands, it comprises a handful of hotels and 20 or 30 smart bars and restaurants clustered around a large marina and chlorinated man-made lagoon.

The latter may sound horrendous, but it’s been tastefully done and is completely necessary due to the downright nastiness of some of the sealife around these parts.

According to the warning notices on the beach, a box jellyfish sting could easily prove fatal, or (and I quote) ‘inflict agonising pain, vomiting, confusion and extreme anxiety’.

Man-made chlorinated lagoon it is then.

Day 28. Hobart, Tasmania

The horrible weather predicted for the next week sees us change our flights in search of some sunshine, so today is our last day in Tassie.

We take the self-guided historic tour of Hobart which - despite the drizzle - keeps us entertained until Scott and Katie meet us for one last night out.

They've been absolutely fanatastic hosts; generous to a fault, highly amusing and not averse to cracking a bottle or two late into the night. Typical of their kindness is Scott's offer to drag himself out of bed at 4.30am tomorrow to run us to the airport.

Thanks a million guys, it's been a blast, we'll pass on your regards to the locals back at The Shakespeare.

Day 27. Hobart, Tasmania

We say goodbye to Steve today as he flies back to Sydney to complete the last leg of his holiday.

He's been the perfect travelling companion - always happy to get his round in, good at building campfires and handy with a map when Wend's navigation has gone awry. He cheats at cards mind you and the chronic flatulence does grate after a while.

Once we've packed him off to the airport we gatecrash the celebrations for Scott's Mam's birthday. Judy is a sprightly 81 today and we toast her health with a few beers while tucking in to a steak dinner.

Scott's dad, Harry, regales us with tales of what he got up to during his 7 years in the UK. It sounds like he managed to live in north, south, east and west London, working in increasingly unlikely jobs as he went. He escaped the capital only briefly, to tread the boards as a Butlin's redcoat in Wales.

Never a dull moment when Harry's around I suspect...Hi-Di-Hi!

Day 26. Hobart, Tasmania

In the morning we take a walk through a nearby forest to see some of the giant gum trees the camp manager has told us about.

Mighty impressive they are too. Absolute beasts, well over 150 ft high and God only knows how old.

We then make our way back to Hobart to hook up with Scott and Katie again. We've a lot of catching up to do as we bore the poor buggers rigid with our travelling tales from the past fortnight.