When our good friends Welshy and Mandy invited us to join a bunch of their mates in sharing a house for a weekend down South at Yallingup, we knew we were in for a great time.

We should never really be astonished at anything that happens in life, so it should come as no surprise that when you have friends who are really nice people, it’s a pretty safe bet that their other friends would also be fantastic folk.

We were not disappointed as the whole crew were wonderful – happy, quirky, intelligent and witty people with a zest for life.

After the three and a half hour drive down from the big smoke, we were greeted by the sight of the guys huddled around the outdoor setting, beers in stubby-holdered hands, talking ‘bloke-speak’.

The girls were of course running around busily preparing things, organising linen on beds and generally making the house into a home, while Bec cooked yummy ‘spag bog’.

‘’Ow you doin’ Tone?’ enquired Welshy, in – you guessed it, a fine Welsh accent.

‘I’ll be better when I’ve had a drink!’ was the typically blokey retort from me, though it was in fact true. After a long drive, on dark winding roads into unknown territory, a few snorts of my fave bourbon were just what the doc ordered.

The first night was one of polite introductions and recovery from the drive down after a day’s work.

The Saturday was winery tour day and it fully attained and surpassed all expectations, despite wintery weather.

The first winery topped up the levels from the night before and was very pleasant, with a trés chique assistant, fabulous wines and chill out music. Polly found a tea towel on display that I swear was an image of either her or Velma from Scooby Doo (only Poll has a better figure and a more tenacious attitude).

The winery also had a giant Connect 4 game, where Troy kicked Welshy’s butt for a $50 bet, thus wiping out the $50 owing over a wager about Welshy’s fire lighting prowess. Troy had been introduced to the concept, having won his last $50 bet several weeks earlier, by foolishly chewing and swallowing a complete and superhot chilli and almost hospitalising himself in the process. Nevertheless, he had been able to buy the Xbox game he had craved so desperately. This time, however, (to use his teenage vernacular) he ‘raped’ the Welshman in true pants-down fashion.

The experienced bus driver had sensibly remembered to take the ‘before’ photo of the group. I fear the ‘after’ shot was actually forgotten about as he was only too pleased to collect the cash and leave hastily at the end of a fun-filled day. The back row had just begun to discuss the positive benefits of doing moonies at passers-by.

The second winery was more than equally delightful. The hostess was actually the owner, who took great satisfaction in regaling us with tales of the revenge she planned to exact on the staff member who had suffered inexplicably from ‘Australian industrial disease’ and had been unable to attend work that morning.

Although this lady had clearly parted company with her 20’s, and we’ll leave it there, she was still stunningly hot, with a feisty attitude to boot. It had very clearly been extremely cold in her sales office just prior to our arrival and the lads eyes were finding it very hard to concentrate on the wine labels. In fact some of the girls were even a little distracted. Ryan and Christian were unencumbered by the shackles of polite etiquette in their obvious appreciation of the lady’s two main attributes.

This lady not only had penetrating though vibrant eyes, but also the wit and pizzazz to sell sand to an Arab and candles to the Pope, but with her headlights on high beam as well, I reckon she could easily have sold Viagra to a dog with pink lipstick.

Needless to say, nobody left without purchasing something.

The next winery could have only ever been an anti-climax as the poor cellar door man was alas a young man. His gender ruined any chance of a positive comparison. Yet he was saved, courtesy of an evil sounding but wonderfully tasting concoction by the name of ‘Snake bite’.

The lunch at the brewery was a gourmet feast. The music was inescapably foot tapping as Rusty and the Tinman (I think they were called) played us some blues and a Johnny Cash number to soothe our souls, though the alcohol was already doing a pretty good job of that.

Betraying a background of cashed up boganness, the merry group abandoned the idea of another winery and headed for the local pub, one that had for many years been of the ‘spit and sawdust’ variety, but in recent times of political adherence to draconian legislation had been knocked into the shape of conformity.

The décor has been upgraded to suit a more discerning clientele, though the local males still love their flannelettes, luminous work shirts and dreadlocks – one even sported a green safety hat? WTF? The local girls were wonderful but oozed that kind of Jerry Springer show appeal. You know what I mean!

Then it was back to the mansion in the woods for a night of drunken revelry. There were actually some very deep and intelligent conversations going on between highly qualified professional people, until the opening of the ‘Snake bite’ and the appearance of my guitar transformed the crowd into a tightly bonded choir of new best mates.

Drunken superstars crooned their way through the evening. Mandy revealed a song she had written in childhood, along with a new and unique way of playing guitar that had no musical basis I could find, but that was played with an intensity and integrity that rendered such considerations irrelevant.

Jo passed out, before re-appearing with her burst of second wind. Cath AKA Polly as well, for extra confusion value, found a microphone with a karaoke disc upstairs and was clearly enjoying her newly discovered, loud and almost-in-tune, vocal talents, though everyone is loud at that time of night, after consuming that much alcohol. Young Mum, Di was less pleased that the singing had disturbed her toddler and threatened to awaken everyone for one of the early morning Zumba classes that had honed her figure to what someone called ‘supermilf’ category (No idea what that means John!). Young Dad, John AKA Welshy 2, was happy just to go with the flow (of amber beverage).

Breakfast was a very welcome aid to recovery though the previous day’s determination to play hard had been replaced by sedate apathy. The crew chatted and some watched the footy on TV before gradually dispersing.

Jo, Troy and I made our way down to view the white foam of the 6 metre swell, then on via a gastronomically enchanting bakery to the local caves.

The mites and tites were magnificent and I highly recommend a visit if you haven’t yet done it. I was truly happy to discover a staff lady there who is completely passionate about caves. It’s always enriching to my soul when I come across people who absolutely love the work that they do.

Even more enriching is the realisation that we are truly blessed to have such good friends, with whom we could share heartfelt stories of daily challenges, as well as enjoying uncontrollable laughter at the rapid banter. We started the weekend knowing only our two hosts and left, basking in the glow of a houseful of new friends, whom it feels as if we have known for years.

We also had some great ‘us time’, and dare I say it – a cultural experience, away from the daily grind, and can return, refreshed for a new working week. As a life coach, I was walking the talk.

Friends and laughter – they make the world such a great place.