From Southport to......Southport?!

We were setting off again, the short route down to the bus station not a problem in the gleaming Brisbane sunshine. I had survived a late scare when I thought that all my food in the fridge had been either thrown away or stolen by some cheeky, young, poor, dirt-ridden back-packer…but then I found it on the next shelf down. We got to the bus terminal in plenty of time and waited for the bus to……Southport. For those of you who do not know, both me and James technically live in Southport as we had to leave our homes in Leeds and Birkdale for this trip, so there was a certain amount of irony that we had travelled to the other side of the world to go and stay in another town called Southport. It also acted as a break-up for the long journey towards Sydney, which would definitely need another overnighter.

The coach journey was short and uneventful (just how we like ‘em!) and we arrived at the Southport Transit Centre just after lunch. Our place of residence for the night was to be the Arrival Accommodation Centre, and we had no idea what to expect. It turns out that we had plucked a little gem from the rubbish that we have spent hours trawling through on Booking.com and Hostelbookers.com. A clean and tidy place, with two single beds and get this: two desks, two wardrobes and two chest-of-drawers! Add in a shared balcony with garden furniture, a swimming pool and an on-site barber and we were living the high life. First job was to get a wash on and get it out on the washing line outside, something that we hadn’t done for a long, long time, but would inevitably save us money on using a tumble drier. Next job, for me, was a haircut downstairs. The chap seemed very friendly and even knew of the barbers we had gone to in Whangarei as he used to live there. He also told me about The Vault Bar & Grill that were doing an Early Bird Menu before 6:30pm, had 30% off the bill, a jazz-band-while-you-eat and that he might be joining them onstage later to sing with them. I think he was also the owner of the hostel too, and he only charged me $15 instead of $18, for a reason that I don’t really understand.

"Care to join me at The Vault?"

After the haircut and hanging out of the washing we went for a walk around sunny Southport (no sarcasm in that last statement… for once). It seemed a lovely place with high-rise apartment blocks (the holiday home kind, not the council estate kind), cafes, bars, eateries and a beach. To add another similarity with the UK Southport, this one also had a pier! But it was much shorter, and didn’t have a train on it. But it did have a much better vista and the sun was much stronger than I had ever experienced in the UK Southport. After we had dallied and taken some photos we carried on our little tour and tried to find The Vault, but it was harder than it seemed. We eventually found it, hiding behind some roadworks, and from the outside looking in it looked way out of our price range. There were three wine glasses on the table, and two sets of cutlery on the table so we knew it would be a pricey joint, but if we were getting 30% off the Early Bird we should be fine, so long as we didn’t order coffee, dessert or anything else for that matter! To make a night of it we grabbed a bottle of wine each and stashed it in the hostel for after our meal.

We left the hostel in high spirits, and that we would be dining like kings for a change. As my jeans were still on the washing line I had to don my grey combat trousers and least-creased shirt – not the greatest look in the world. We arrived well before the cut-off for the Early Bird and requested a table for two. We clearly looked out of place (well, I did. James had scrubbed up quite well, and even had his brothel-creepers on too) but we were shown to a table nonetheless. Our jovial nature was dealt a hammer-blow when the waitress said that the 30% off was only valid for the main meals and not the Early Bird menu. We baulked at the prices for the mains and very nearly did a runner out the front door, but decided to stay and take the hit as we were all geared up for it by now. After a brief conversation with the waitress I noticed a scouse accent and informed her that we were from Southport in the UK. She obviously knew of it and opened up a little to us. We slipped in the fact that we were travelling the world for 6 months so that she hopefully wouldn’t expect too much of a tip. I ordered the steak (medium-rare, obviously) with beer-battered chips and salad, and James plumped for the Calamari with same chips and same salad, but with a side of aioli to dunk in.

Best...steak...ever!

It wasn’t long before the waitress was returning from the kitchen with our large plates and dished them out to us, our faces clearly showing our delight at what lay in front of us. That steak. What can I say about that steak? If you have seen the Matrix, where the guy savours a succulent piece of steak, even though he knows it is not real, you will be close to knowing how good that steak tasted. Maybe it was the fact that we have been living off sandwiches and Big Soup tins for the past 6 weeks, but that was damned good, and I polished off every morsel from that plate. James was equally impressed with his dish, although he couldn’t/wouldn’t finish the salad (onions and tomatoes y’see). That was one of the best meals I have had in a LONG time, and we realised that this was probably the best restaurant we would eat in on our travels. The evening was made stranger by the fact that they were making a commercial for The Vault that night. We were at the table next to the door where a couple were being filmed entering the restaurant and going to the bar, but I don’t think that we were in-shot. It seemed like all of the Southport glitterati (and that is the only time that phrase will ever be used) were attending, and as we ordered the bill we realised that we wouldn’t get to hear the Barber Of Southport crooning along with the jazz band, but that was fine by us. We settled the bill and left, bellies full of delicious top-notch grub.

Southport

When we got back we cracked open the wine, grabbed a plastic cup each and filled it to the brim. It was a nice warm evening so we sat outside on the balcony and watched the world go by before breaking out the cards for yet another round of Black Jack, then Rummy, then Beggar-my-neighbour and Threes (it has other names) to finish with. It was a great end to a great little day.