As soon as we’d found a table (no problem, plenty of spaces) a glance at the various laminated menus revealed by-the-glass availability of Pikes The Red Mullet, which I figured was the obvious choice to accompany a wood-fired pizza, so it was a matter of deciding which pizza. Seafood would have been Madam’s preferred option, but she decided the prawn option seemed a little straightforward and the King Neptune version had sour cream, which failed to spark an interest, so we opted for a Rustic Italian, which proved to be very nice indeed. Not much change out of twenty-eight dollars, but it was a substantial lunch for two and went down very well.

From there it was off on the shopping trail, and under normal circumstances I’d draw a discreet veil of discretion across the details. There was, however, a major gripe which, for mine, needs to be noted. On the way in to lunch, knowing Madam wanted to check something at Harvey Norman’s, I noted they were no longer located at Whitsunday Centro, having established themselves as a separate identity on the other side of Paluma Road.
“You’ll want to call into Harvey Norman first?” I suggested as we headed past the Shingley Beach marina. “They’ve moved, but I guess you turn right at the lights. There should be an entrance that way.”
I’d not been paying a great deal of attention on the way in, and details of exits and entrances hadn’t registered, so, as it turned out, I was wrong, and it was a case of a U-turn and a dog leg back. After we’d been thoroughly confused we managed to find a park and emerged shaking our heads at an apparent unwillingness to provide clearly marked exits and entrances to the local branch of a major retailer.
When we surveyed the stick mixers on display and noted the presence of plaques advising that some of them had stainless steal components, perhaps attention to detail isn’t one of their strong points.
No, we didn’t find what Madam was after.
And, no, we won’t be back....