In Wooli, we’re only about 40 minutes from Grafton — about the same distance from Coffs Harbour — and yet we may as well have been on a remote island. Down at the river mouth, three ancient locals sat in footy shorts and rain jackets, silently fishing in their camp chairs. They’d already landed two flatheads between them, and they nodded as we wandered past.

As quaint as this coastal village may be, it’s not the place to go if you’re looking for long, languid lunches at seaside cafés. But the beauty of its food offerings is in their simplicity.

An oyster shack — the outpost of an oyster farm stretched out into the river — doled out plump, freshly-shucked morsels. The petrol station did surprisingly good hot chips, heavy on the chicken salt. We cooked sausages on the backyard BBQ at our Airbnb, folding them into fresh white bread with thick butter and piling them with soggy onions.

By the end of our last day in town, it was hard to pinpoint a single ‘activity’ we’d done. Instead, the metrics of success for this getaway were different: 17 pieces of sea glass, housed in a ziploc bag that the kids have shared custody of. Three new words our five-year-old learned how to spell (poo, wee, bum) courtesy of Scrabble and her older brother. A shopping bag filled with sodden clothes after we got caught in a downfall before being treated to a spectacular rainbow.

I might not be able to recreate a nineties childhood for my Gen-alpha kids. But as Wooli faded in the rear-view mirror on our way out of town, I realised that I’d gifted them a little slice of it, if only for a long weekend.

Feature image: Supplied