After a delightful Mother’s Day breakfast in bed prepared by the dear hubby (Eggs Benedict, Chili Hashbrown Potatoes, Smoked Salmon, Bacon and Grilled Tomato with Tarragon Cheese if you must know…), Mark decided to treat me to an impromptu lunch at T’Gallant Vineyard. This was the plan at least.
However, after rocking up to T’Gallant, we discovered that every other Bruce and Sally on the Peninsula had the same original idea too and the place was absolutely chockers with frazzled mothers and stressed out husbands trying to hold on to their tables as T’Gallant doesn’t take reservations for their trattoria. The staff was most unhelpful too, very unusual for the Mornington Peninsula, but I suppose you can’t expect too much from a place owned by Fosters!
So after about 15 minutes of this farce, I decreed that we would take the food and adjourn to somewhere more civilised. I was thinking along the lines of a secluded picnic by the beach. We drove off to nearby Shoreham beach, which we had never visited before, and came by a camping ground. Feeling quite bogan-like (Bogan – Aussie equivalent of ah beng meets hooligan), we jumped the barrier to the camping area and Mark found a delightfully classy piece of Astroturf to have the picnic at.
You can’t get more Bogan than this, eating cold pizza off someone else’s astroturf next to their camper van. To top it all off, Mark has a big builder’s crack thing going on there – I have photos of the arse-view but I’ll spare my loyal blog readers the horror.
A successful Boganly Mother’s Day- welcome to Australia!