Breakfast of Kings

I had a text from Mirinda waiting for me when I woke up this morning. It read: ‘We are in Cafe Fauno!’ She’s in Sorrento with her Dad for about ten days and clearly thought it only right to let me know about it. As I strolled out of the air conditioning and into the humidity of tropical rain, I huffed.

I managed to forget about it for a while when, back at Mum’s we were joined by the hordes, all come to say farewell. I felt like it was the end of the Royal Command Performance as each person strolled along the line, kissing and exchanging little bits of chat. Clearly Mum was the Queen.

I then foisted myself on Uncle Ronnie and Debs so I could join them for breakfast down at King’s Beach. There was seven of us: Uncle Ronnie, Debs, Jo, Rosie, Rahni, Leah and me. We made a jolly bunch.

While most of them went for a dip in the sea, Jo, Rahni and I found a spot at a cafe. Jo, being incredibly efficient and organised, sorted out the waiting staff and managed to score us a nice big table in the shade, overlooking the outside shower facilities. Jo reckoned the latter was ideal for entertainment.

The dip in the sea was pretty literal as they all joined us very quickly. We then had a fun time confusing the waitress with numerous off-menu meals. My personal favourite has to be Leah and her scone with avocado dip.

It was a lovely breakfast, chatting to Uncle Ronnie about his incredible health about face and his equally incredible family who he credits with the bulk of the responsibility for the turnaround. Personally, I think his wonderfully positive attitude towards life had a great deal to do with it.

Anyway, having a few hours with my lovely cousins was fantastic (with promises of visits in the UK) but all too soon over. After dropping back at Mum’s, they headed off for home.

Suddenly, as if we’d been visited by a giant cordless vacuum cleaner, the house was quiet and, almost empty. We sat back and enjoyed the silence with a cup of tea.

The rest of the day, I suffered with the heat, the only relief coming from an icy cold schooner of Kosciuszko Pale Ale down at the pub opposite the beach – not the Bottlo-Pub that Uncle Les visited.

The Kosciuszko Pale Ale is a revelation. Brewed in the ‘highest brewery in Australia,’ I reckon even Nicktor would love it. It’s not only NOT a lager, it’s also very refreshing with a strong citrus flavour. I’m going to be having a few more of them before I leave, that’s for certain.

Back at the house, we watched the tennis for a bit and, generally, sweated until it was time for bed.