It’s not often that you look back on a day and couldn’t improve it. Wednesday in Noosa was that day.

Under perfect blue skies we extended our morning walk by doing the National Park and Noosa Botanic Gardens, walking to the mouth of the Noosa River before heading back in to Hastings for a smoothie.

Cute red dinghy, just because.

We returned to the hotel to change into village attire, whereupon I spotted a deficit in my wardrobe. So after a normal lunch — sandwiches — we skipped off to Country Road to plug said deficit with a white&blue striped linen shirt.

Now I’m wearing exactly what every other male tourist from Sydney is wearing in Noosa.


That’s Karl Stefanovic, by the way. Not me. I am much taller.

I even quipped with another couple riding the lift with us at our “choice” of footwear. He blathered some nonsense about arch support, but its simply the Noosa dress-code. You will wear a mostly-white linen shirt, shorts and Birkenstocks, or we feed you to the bull sharks.

Those aren’t Birks by the way, they’re knock-offs. Thank jebus the shirt I purchased is organically grown linen! Plus, virtue signalling is so much easier in sandals.

My wife then snuck out to find a gift but returned defeated a short time later. Instead, we both hopped into the pool for a soak and watched a group chugging espresso martinis. There was one noisy bitch I would gladly have drowned, instead we left and thus her life was spared.

Finding we needed a rest after all that resting, we rested in the room before organising the car for our five-minute drive into Noosaville for dinner at Sum Yung Guys.

This joint is rated the best Asian in Noosa, so expectations were high. We ordered the Mooloolaba prawn toast, netted spring rolls, roti bread, Abrolhos Island scallops in fried rice, and a Thai green curry.

That prawn toast, oh yum. And the curry was proper hot. The only thing I didn’t like was the SYG lager, too foamy/belchy — either that, or I suddenly no longer like beer

Either way, we’re coming back next trip to try the wagyu tartare, blackened barra larb, and the ‘Crying Tiger’ short rib!

So full that I felt like I was about to give birth, we waddled back to the hotel and collapsed on the balcony for an hour, enjoying the evening. We watched the lights of distant aircraft knowing we’d be on a plane soon enough.

But not yet! Sucked in, Sydney!

Tomorrow, rinse/repeat the morning ritual, then after lunch we’ll go prospecting for shells on the beach, get my wife into a bikini and have a swim, take some photos, and finish the rest of that saignée.

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