Cheers Restaurant

 Selling Bali Hai meant I suddenly had time on my hands. 

That has never suited me particularly well.

Around that time, an advertisement appeared in the local paper. 

A business had been passed in at auction and was now open to offers. 

The business was Palm Grove Restaurant in Perugian Beach.

It caught my attention immediately. 

I had sold Bali Hai. 

I was cashed up. I needed something to do. Why not at least have a look?

The restaurant was situated on David Low Way, directly opposite the road leading down to the ocean. 

It occupied a generous block with parking space for around twenty cars. A bull nose roof covered a wide decked veranda that wrapped around the front of the building, framed by mature gardens.

The entrance was impressive. 

A broad timber deck with steps rising from the car park led to double doors. Inside, to the left, was an office and storeroom that also served as a wine cellar. 

Further along were male and female toilets, and against the clinker brick wall stood a beautiful aquarium.

To the right of the entrance sat a full-sized grand piano beside a small dance floor. 

The dining room was expansive, with seating for over one hundred patrons. 

At the far end stood a substantial cocktail bar, crafted from what appeared to be Fijian kauri, complete with matching stools and additional seating for perhaps thirty more guests. Beyond that, to the right, was a fully equipped pizzeria with its own front entrance for takeaways. 

To the left, doors opened into a courtyard garden — mature trees and climbing plants draped over a white archway. It was the sort of setting made for wedding photographs. Just before the bar area was the entrance to a fully equipped commercial kitchen and preparation area, complete with industrial washing facilities and rear access for deliveries. 

Everything was there — tablecloths, china, silverware, glassware, even a cellar stocked with wine. You could walk in and begin trading immediately. 

I have described it in such detail because you cannot appreciate the scale and potential of the place without seeing it in your mind. 

And I had always harbored a desire to run a fully fledged restaurant and bar.

At auction, it had been passed in at $500,000 and had sat unsold for about six weeks. 

I only became aware of it through the weekly local paper. 

On impulse — though perhaps not entirely — I submitted an offer of $250,000.

Negotiations went back and forth for several days. Eventually, we settled somewhere between those two figures — but considerably closer to mine than theirs.

And then the realization struck me.

What have I done?

Once again, I had placed myself into another business.

The premises, though impressive, were dated. 

The decor belonged firmly to the seventies and would need bringing into line with the present day. 

Modernizing it would require capital, energy, and vision.but I had never been one to shy away from a challenge.

I approached Anna — Cliff and Zoe’s daughter — and asked if she would help me get the restaurant ready for summer. 

It was already late November, so time was short.

Together we stripped the place back. 

We removed everything that felt dated or unnecessary and organized a large garage sale in the car park. Tables, chairs, bric-a-brac — anything that didn’t fit the new vision went. It felt cleansing, like wiping a slate clean. 

Around that time Carolyn and Alex arrived from Germany. 

I suggested that if they would run the garage sale, they could keep the proceeds. 

They happily agreed.

After a few more days, another idea formed. 

Alex was a chef, and Carolyn had strong experience managing restaurants. 

It seemed logical. 

I offered them the opportunity to run the restaurant.

However, they came back with so many conditions and rules that I quietly let the idea drop. It was not going to work.

So I pressed on.I changed the name and registered it as Cheers — The Italian Restaurant. I found a couple of local chefs and a kitchen assistant.

 A young fellow came on board to run the bar, and a young lady took charge of the pizzeria.We opened in the second week of December.

The place looked fantastic — crisp white tablecloths, polished silverware, gleaming glassware, and colorful pots of flowers placed throughout the dining room. 

There was an air of expectation.

Trade built steadily as the holiday season gathered pace.

 To add atmosphere, I booked Doc Span and his blues band to play every Sunday throughout the holidays. They were excellent, and the restaurant buzzed with energy.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the holidaymakers left. Only then did I truly understand why the restaurant had been passed in at auction. It was deeply seasonal. Once the peak period ended, business dropped away sharply.

I kept Doc Span on for one Sunday a month, but attendance gradually thinned. The pizzeria generated some income, but not nearly enough to sustain the operation at the level I had envisioned.After several months, I began to feel the weight of it. 

It simply wasn’t working.

By then Anna had moved on. 

She had been a tremendous help, and I remain deeply grateful to her. I could not have prepared the restaurant without her energy and loyalty. 

As time passed, I retained the young man who managed the bar and the young woman running the pizzeria.

 I later discovered they were seeing each other, which gave me an idea.

I offered them the entire business to run as they wished, on the condition that they pay me a fixed weekly rent.

To my relief, they accepted enthusiastically.

I engaged a solicitor to draw up a proper agreement, with terms that suited us all. 

Once the documents were signed, they took over day-to-day operations, and I stepped back — receiving a steady weekly rent.

For the first time in months, the pressure lifted. Everyone, it seemed, was satisfied.

This arrangement carried on for several months.

Then, quite unexpectedly, I received a phone call from a real estate agent asking if I was the owner of Cheers Restaurant.

I was cautious. At that time, there were plenty of scams circulating on the Sunshine Coast, and I had no intention of being caught out.

 I answered carefully and did not confirm too much. 

Instead, I asked him to call me back at a specific day and time. 

Before that call, I checked who he was and satisfied myself that he was legitimate.

True to his word, he rang again.

He asked if the restaurant was for sale — and, if so, how much.

That caught me off guard. 

The Coast was still very quiet, and I had not actively considered selling. 

My reply was half serious, half tongue-in-cheek: “Everything on the Sunshine Coast is for sale.” However, I made it clear that price would not be discussed over the phone.

 He said he would get back to me.

A few days later he called again, requesting a meeting at the restaurant with himself and his client. 

I contacted my tenants and asked if I could have the use of the premises for a couple of hours. That suited them well, as they were closing for a few days during the winter lull.

We met as arranged. The agent introduced his client — a gentleman from Gympie, a pub developer with interests on the Sunshine Coast.

After several hours of negotiation, we reached an agreement.

They would pay the price I wanted — but not until March of the following year. 

In the meantime, they would take over the business and pay me a negotiated monthly sum, effectively interest, until the balance was settled in full the following March.

It was an unusual arrangement, but it suited us both.

I took the proposal to my solicitor, who crossed the T’s and dotted the I’s, ensuring everything was properly documented and secure. And so, once again, something that had begun almost on impulse came to a measured and satisfactory conclusion. I can say now — it truly did happen.