Newspaper article Sunshine Coast Daily (Maroochydore, Australia)

Heading for a Big Buffet Bust-Up

Newspaper article Sunshine Coast Daily (Maroochydore, Australia)

Heading for a Big Buffet Bust-Up

Article excerpt

STAYING in a grand hotel, even for just one night, is like an annual vacation for me.

I've stayed in many ordinary places over the years, but sometimes when I'm lucky I get to stay in a five-star place, and on one memorable occasion, I was in the same hotel as Sir Paul McCartney. (Unfortunately, not at the same time).

If I asked you what you did upon first checking into a fancy hotel, I wonder if your answer would be the same as mine.

Check out the mini bar to ensure there are enough over-priced Toblerones to help you make it through the night? Jump up and down on the bed to check for mattress sturdiness? Or race to the bathroom to suss out the quality of the toiletries a and, if they're good ones (love L'Occitane at the moment), stash them away in your suitcase and use the ones you took from the last (lesser) hotel?

I never tire of a hotel stay. And how about the breakfast buffet in a five-star hotel?

No matter how strong my resolve, how resolute my will, once I enter the beguiling domain of the breakfast buffet it is though an alien from Planet Glutton has entered my body.

Oh, I try resistance. Every time. Even though I know the breakfast buffet is a force much bigger than me, I never give up trying.

At each hotel as I take the lift down to breakfast heaven (love descending to heaven, makes a nice change) I repeat my resisting mantra. "Just fruit and yoghurt for you, Madam'' (I always call myself Madam when staying in a fancy hotel.)

Over and over, faster and faster I repeat the mantra as the lift passes each floor. "Fruit and yogurt, fruit and yogurt, fruit and yogurt.'' Out of the lift and into the dining room I continue, afruit and yogurt, fruit and yogurt, fruit and yogurt'', and then run like a sprinter out of the starter blocks towards the bacon.

Shaky at the knees, almost panting with want, I shout to anyone around me: "Where's the omelette station? …

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