Hello stranger

I’m not one for fussing. The mere idea of most beauty treatments fills me with horror at the waste of time and money involved. But I’m rather partial to a pedicure. My feet, before they became cracked and old, were one of my favourite features – high arches, long toes, proper nails, even on the pinkies.

Also, I rather adore a tint on my pale, auburn lashes.

But such niceties fell by the wayside during my year of juggling a social media job with motherhood. Something had to give and pampering myself was the obvious sacrifice.

On holiday in Kingscliff and finally chilling out, I decided it was finally time for some personal grooming. After almost having heart failure at the prices at the resort spa – $115 for a pedicure … I discovered Silk Beauty in the Mantra shopping strip.

A pedicure was still $70, but the owner assures me at those prices it’s a living, not a killing.

I’m delighted with my toes, painted my favourite shade of orange. See below for the classy result.

But that’s not what the “Hello Stranger” heading is all about … It’s not a dramatic reveal of the old me at the hands of a beautician.

It’s about last night (coincidentally the name of one of my all-time favourite movies … I’m a child of the ’80s – make that teen of the ’80s – cut me some slack).

Let me rewind … On our second day at Mantra Salt we decided to check whether the pool at its posh sister, Peppers, was worth crashing.

It was a stinking hot day and the kids were moaning about being dragged around as we searched for an unlocked security gate … Then we found a side entrance and discovered a little nirvana of a pool with a sandy beach offering a kids’ movie on a Saturday night. Husband didn’t see the beauty of the movie bit until I explained it meant we could eat dinner in peace together without paying a whomping $90 babysitting fee (fark me drunk I swear that’s what they charge for three hours, when I told the beautician she wondered if she was in the wrong business).

As we were gaping at pool nirvana, and the luscious $22 pizzas being delivered to all the posh types sunning themselves beside it, a gorgeous woman came up and said hello – an old Singapore days friend – now living in Brisbane – called Kim.

We haven’t seen Kim since a mutual friend’s wedding years ago … Despite both having seven-year-olds and our parents living a mere kilometre apart in Newcastle (it’s a small world after all, it’s a small world after all …)

So last night we met Kym and her handsome Scottish hubby at the Mantra pub for dinner. It was ace fun, especially the bit where the kids ran off and amused themselves in the play area most of the night, even the brooding 10-year-old.

There was much laughter and Pinot grigio and serviceable pub food. It was one of those gatherings where the time apart melts immediately away and the conversation zings and sparks like cracker night.

We sent each other love fest messages within moments of parting. Kim’s concluded with: “Move to Brissy. Or let’s all relocate to Newc.”

Geez it’s tempting … But there’s still the whole pesky “how do we pay the bills” thing to work out. We’ll have to make do with a Same Time, Next Year scenario for now … Except we might actually plan the next one rather than relying on serendipity to do the work for us.