G'day mate(s), how ya goin? (That seems to be the Aussie greeting of choice by the way).

So anyway, to follow on from the previous blog, the following morning we needed no encouragement to pack our things and leave the freezing tepee behind as we made our way down to the bus depot to catch our next coach to Surfers Paradise, about three hours further up the coast.

Surfers Paradise had a very Spanish holiday resort feel to it, reminding us both of Magaluf as the coach made its way through the town to the terminal.

We were picked up at the coach terminal by Marcus Baines' Irish brother (who was in fact no relation and was called Phil) before being shipped to our new home, the Surfers Paradise Backpackers.

The hotel itself was pretty deserted but for a few young English lads obviously here on the ale and the three people we were sharing a dorm with, French Mary, as well as Phil and Laura, siblings from England.

Thankfully, the weather was really nice when we arrived so we headed straight off into town to see what it had to offer. We had been told by Irish Marcus (Phil) that there was not a great deal to do here besides the beach in the day and the pubs at night. Turns out he was pretty spot on as the centre consisted of a number of pubs and restaurants and a shopping centre. Oh, and 'Condom Kingdom', which was a really cool but quite odd novelty gift store. Like a strange mutation of a comic book store and Anne Summers.

The weather didn't last unfortunately and by mid-afternoon the downpour had begun so we made our way back to the backpackers (that's what they call hostels here by the way), which was about a fifteen minute walk away.

We arrived a touch wet.

Now, we hadn't really planned on doing anything in the evening (honest) but as we arrived back at the room to find Phil, Laura and Mary in preparations for a night out, it was little more than thirty seconds before I found myself at the bar ordering a six pack of local brew and a bottle of wine after we decided to join them.

The backpackers were running a night out which consisted of being bussed to one of the local clubs (Sin City) and getting in for free (usually $15) followed by a free drink.

The club itself reminded me of Central in Stamford, but smaller and more expensive. We ordered two shots at one point and paid $18, although that was before we realised that the stamp on our hands (that we had received at the backpackers) actually entitled us to $5.50 drinks all night. Gutted.

It was actually a really good night that consisted of me jabbering on to Irish Marcus about football and Aimee dancing with French Mary. After a couple of hours I'd somehow conspired to get lost (whilst in the smallest club ever) and headed off back to the backpackers, via the local shell garage and a family pack of Doritos.

I heard that Aimee lasted the whole night although eventually left the club after a strange local woman had decided that she really, really, wanted to be her friend.

The next morning we watched Mary, Phil and Laura get up and pack their stuff after a mere 4 hours sleep, grateful that we didn't have to leave with them. After sorting ourselves out and realising that the sun was beating down on the town outside we went for a walk along the beach to town before spending the afternoon having some food and a few drinks in the sun.

Aimee loved it because we were sat on the main pedestrian area so she could watch people walking past. She's nosy, bless her.

As was the case the previous day, the glorious afternoon was ruined by a downpour of rain so, once again we charged back to the hostel to dry off and spent a quiet evening reading and playing cards.

The following morning (Wednesday), we departed the backpackers at about 09:00 and headed down to the Greyhound depot for the 09:20 service to Brisbane. At about 09:45 we were informed that the bus was currently stuck in Port Macquarie after breaking down the day before and therefore we would be getting the 12:30 service instead.

Not too bothered as it was a nice day we headed off and found a restaurant that was serving their own version of Bacon and Egg McMuffins (which were fantastic by the way), which also had free wireless internet, which was handy as we hadn't yet booked a hostel for Brisbane.

After much deliberation we settled on 'Cloud 9 Backpackers', which was a decision we would soon regret.

We arrived in Brisbane at about 14:00 thanks to the bus driver gunning it down the freeway, and made our way to our hostel which was only about 300 metres up the road from the bus depot.

Now, if you run a Google search for Cloud 9 Backpackers in Brisbane, have a look at the site and think about what you would be expecting. If you can't be bothered ill give you an idea what it says:

"Recently renovated".

"Newest backpackers in Brisbane".

"…not tired décor…".

I don't think we were being unreasonable therefore to be expecting a clean, relatively new hostel in good condition.

Dark thoughts however, were flowing through my brain as we walked up the road and noticed the "Cloud 9" sign hanging off the side of the building.

It didn't get much better inside as the whole place looked greasy with paint flaking off the walls, ants nests in the filthy kitchen, Irishmen manning the reception, et cetera.

They also had a DVD room upstairs which we (unwisely) decided to visit. It turned out that the three sofa's that they had, had been literally ripped up and half of the cushions, thrown out of the (non-existent) window.

If this place had been renovated it was prior to the war by looking at it.

The place was also seemingly a base for every ale-loving backpacker in Brisbane as each night the place just descended into chaos until the final few staggered back to their rooms at about 04:00.

Some bright spark (American I might add) decided it would be a good idea to play with the fire extinguisher one night, so, at about 03:30 we were summoned out of bed and out of the building thanks to the fire alarm being set off, which, as it happens, was also linked directly to the local fire department.

After the rather un-impressed looking firemen deciphered that there was in fact no fire, which was pretty obvious, what with the crowd of p***ed up Americans in the doorway wetting themselves, we were allowed back in.

We made as much noise as we could the following morning in an effort to wake up the a*******s that set off the fire alarm. What can I say, I'm petty!

Brisbane itself is really not the most interesting city in the world. It's pretty much a collection of un-inspiring, dull, high rise buildings with no real landmarks or attractions to speak of.

Over the next three days we visited the city museum, which was really two rooms housing their collection of 'modern' art, ascended the cities 'iconic' clock tower which afforded views across the city (ugly tower blocks aplenty) and visited the local cinema (twice).

There's really not a great deal else to be said about Brisbane. We were not exactly saddened to be leaving it (and Cloud 9) behind as we boarded the train to the entertainment centre on Saturday morning to meet Katrina, of whom we would be staying with for the next few days in Crows Nest, which is a small town about half an hour west of Toowoomba (which itself is a couple of hours west of Brisbane).

We had met Katrina last summer whilst on holiday in Cyprus with Aimee's family. Aimee's dads partner (Peta) is an old friend of Katrina from Australia so it was decided at the time that when we got here we would pay her a visit.

That seems like yesterday.

Anyway, Katrina was down in Brisbane with some of her family to watch her sister Debbie compete in the annual Queensland state basketball titles so the afternoon consisted of passionately cheering on their team, The Rockets.

The tournament is wheel-chair based basketball and this was the first time either of us had really watched it so we were struck almost instantly on just how technical it was and moreover, just how talented some of these guys were.

After the tournament was concluded for the day at about 14:30 we hauled our increasingly heavy rucksacks (I honestly believe that Aimee is packing breeze blocks) into the back of Katrina's 4x4 and headed out of the city towards Toowoomba, eventually arriving back at their house in Crows Nest at about 18:00 (via the local noodle bar).

The house is really nice. If you can't be bothered to look at the pictures then just imagine a detached timber house with veranda circling the entire place, which is stood on a quarter acre plot of land on the outskirts of a quiet picturesque little town in the Australian country.

It's a world away from the terraced housing we're used to at home.

After a couple of days I'd decided that around 15:00 is the best time of day as the sun is going down and starts sneaking through the tree's onto the veranda so you can sit on the hanging chairs that they have, in the afternoon sun, and suck on a cold 'XXXX' (local brew). It seriously doesn't get much better.

First thing I thought when we got to Crows Nest was, "strange name for a town", so to enable you to avoid the confusion that engulfed me I shall give you the background on where the name originates…

Back when the first Europeans settled in this area, it was used for cattle and, due to the vastness of the area a local Aboriginal man by the name of 'Jimmy Crow' used to act as a guide for the cowboy's. It was said that Jimmy used to sleep inside a hollowed out tree in the site of the current township and in turn the town was named 'Crows Nest'.

So, that's cleared that up. Bet you feel better for knowing that eh?

So, our first evening was spent eating noodles and drinking a few beers and bourbon and coke's as we got to know our new hosts, Katrina, Steve and their son Callen.

Did I mention that we were also awarded a four poster bed for the duration of our stay? After becoming used to the sponge mattresses in the hostels, ill tell you, it was AMAZING. It was also Callen's room as he was temporarily evicted. Cheers Callen, we owe you one.

The next morning (Sunday) we were up bright and early before heading off out with Steve and Katrina to 'Picnic Point' in Toowoomba, which is a glorious little spot overlooking the vast landscape of the area including the mountains on which Crows Nest sits.

This was followed up with a drive around Toowoomba including visiting the Cobb and Co museum, which is a museum depicting the local history of the town since the colonisation. After a good look round we headed back to the house for a BBQ dinner in the garden, accompanied by another few beers (obviously).

Monday happened to be none other than the Queens birthday (whoop whoop) and it emerged that here in Australia, it is celebrated with a public holiday. That was a little odd considering we do absolutely nothing to mark the occasion back home.

Anyway, besides the date of Queeny arriving here on earth, Monday was also the date on which we (along with Katrina and her mother-in-law, Vera) visited the Bunya mountains, which is a national park about two and a half hours away.

It was quite strange as you drive through dry, baron wilderness for a couple of hours approaching the mountains before the landscape suddenly changes, almost in the blink of an eye to lush green forest as you climb up the side of the mountains. At the top, as we snaked along the side of the mountains we were offered some great views out onto the countryside we had just driven through.

Within the park we took a walk through a stretch of rainforest before stopping for a coffee and treating ourselves to a bunya nut scone (which happened to taste no different) complete with jam and cream. The scone was purchased purely in celebration of our gracious queens birthday of course…

Now, if someone mentioned corned beef to you, what would you picture? (Ignore this question if you're an Aussie).

Personally, we were thinking tinned corned beef like we get at home as, well, that's corned beef right?

Well, I've got some shocking news for you. Corned beef does not naturally arrive in cans. It is at one stage, actual beef, from a cow. I know this news may come as a shock to some of us Brits especially, it certainly did to me, so please, feel free to have a sit down and come to terms with these revelations.

'Proper' corned beef, to clear this up, is cuts of beef pumped with brine of which is then slow cooked before arriving at the tender, reddish meat like substance that resembles something like we are used to, but far more appetising.

Anyway, this was to be our dinner for the evening and I was most definitely excited. Apparently it has to be eaten along with white sauce in order to be experienced in its full glory so that was what we did and safe to say, it was good.

After a brief discussion on what to do the following day we all agreed on a lazy day to watch a few DVD's and generally lounge about and do nothing (Steve and Callen excluded unfortunately). As it happens our 'lazy day' soon extended to a lazy three days as our days pretty much descended into a collage of playing with the dogs, sitting in the sun in the garden, watching DVD's, playing monopoly and eating. Feeling pretty energetic we did negotiate the strenuous 10 minute early afternoon stroll down to the village centre on Wednesday, in the sunshine. It was hard work. Honest.

Alongside lounging around, we did also begin our search for work though after finally realising that we were beginning to run low on money and up to now had done absolutely nothing. After a thorough search of the internet and a few un-successful phone calls to various farms later we found ourselves (hopefully) a good working hostel about 100km north of Brisbane, of which feeds workers to the local strawberry farm.

We were told before we set off that the best way of finding fruit picking work is to get ourselves into a good working hostel, which is basically a hostel that also has an agreement with the local farms whereby they feed any interested people over to work the farm. After speaking to the very helpful woman at the YHA in Maroochydore and confirming that she should be able to have us over on the farm within the week, we booked ourselves in there from next Wednesday.

Unfortunately we couldn't get in any sooner as they are full so we will be staying in Mooloolaba, (which is right next to Maroochydore), at another hostel from Friday through to Tuesday, although the woman at the YHA said she would let us know if she could get us onto the farm before Wednesday even though we wont actually be at the hostel until then (bless her heart).

So that's the plan for tomorrow, with Katrina kindly offering to chauffeur us to the hostel in the morning…

As ever we shall update you further soon.

Speak to you soon.

MArk and Aimee x