Oooh lah lah

Mooloolaba is not exactly Paris, actually it is nothing like Paris, but it provides a pleasant day of casual leisure in the sun and, should you wish, the surf.

It should only be an hour's drive from my friend's home in the northern suburbs of Brisbane but it took us two hours of occasional road crawl to reach today. I doubt the travel delay was because my local Member of Parliament, Malcolm Turnbull, was also in the area addressing of all things the Woodford Music Festival about honesty in politics but rather the festival itself.

My evidence for that includes but is not confined to the men in a car alongside us who regularly flashed a sign with the words 'Show Us Your Tits' emblazoned on it to the female companions in our car. Class!

We had lunch at the Mooloolaba Surf Club packed with Sunday 'revellers'. I cannot recommend the basic fish and chips dish most us ordered but the Sunday roast one friend ate looked delicious. The club is well located on the surf beach. Der, I just realised how lame that reads.

Afterwards we joined a couple of friends at the camp site where they are staying for the week. Camping is not my scene, not that type of camp at least, but overall it was a splendid day. Here are some photos.

The Surf Club's dining room

The view from our table

Mooloolaba Beach, late afternoon