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.
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