Speed dating

When it comes to meeting people who needs a speed dating session when all you really need is a tent, a camper or glamper van to strike up a conversation. Lots of new people to talk to without the commitment of going home with an ugly date at the end.

Backing the glamper van into its allotted spot always brings forth intellectual and stimulating comments before you have even alighted from the vehicle, such as, “she’ll be right mate,” “shit yer, she’ll fit,” “shit she’s big,” ” just backer up mate, now left hand down left hand down, now right, no right mate, now straighten her up, yep she’s beaut” and my personal favourite by an eloquent young mother slurping on a beer from a can, ” she’s fuckin beaud-if-ful, thats me campin dream.” Slurp.

People from all walks of life don’t hesitate to say hello or good morning, they are a wealth of travelling knowledge and are happy to tell you where to go and unlike in the city this is not a bad thing. They all have their camping/travelling preferences. The tent cities created by some travellers rival that of a Saudi Arabian Prince and come complete with full bedroom, seperate kitchen, dinning rooms and take hours and hours to set up. It’s worth the effort to get a chair and bubbles and just sit and watch the architectural extravagance of tent city unfold.

The camper trailer is something else. Something that looks so compact opens out to reveal an entire little house, compartments everywhere hold a bevy of gadgets, but looking at the trailer with the double bed over the top about three feet in the air that required a ladder to get there made me worry that the two eighty years olds would be found one morning on the ground having plummeted to their death on a toilet run.

Everyone is willing to give advice. Recently after having a blockage in the pipes which made the shower fill, it was discovered by the non mechanical husband that my tresses had caused the blockage, well done him. The advice given from the lovely Aldi tent toating ex taxation office employee was to “shave it all off”, she did at 60, just gave herself a number 2. Those of you that know me realise that I’m way to vein to even walk out of the bathroom without makeup let alone embrace my inner bald self.

While sitting on the beach watching the sunset we were joined by the Noosa Nomads, they had been off doing good works, feeding rural farming towns and were now returning home. Whilst enjoying a beach beverage we discussed the R word , apparently nobody in Noosa says the word retired….ever. It’s just not done, they say “are you experiencing life”. Noosaites never discuss what they once did for a living but they ask what you are doing for the community. Well what could I say, the only community support we had offered on our trip was to support the local liquor outlets, it’s better than nothing.

Living next to complete strangers brings out the great Aussie spirit of mateship, the have chat, sit with strangers, share your catch of the day with people you’ve never met and may never see again. So if you are sitting in front of a computer somewhere checking out the dating sites, become a glamper, a camper, a tenter, support a local pub somewhere because real people are bloody hilarious, friendly and fabulously feral.

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