Laugh Kookaburra, Laugh.

A long trip to the outback "Down Under" has hopelessly interfered with my new found skills in cyber communications. Outwith any city limit mobiles fail and wireless t'internet can only be dreamed of if one is prepared to offer some obviously already rich squatter a small fortune in dollars for a moment or two's connectivity. I was not expecting this as I had erroneously assumed that Australia would be a veritable hot bed of new technology, and so it may be in the garish urban sprawls more akin to middle America than Dear Old Blighty. However here beyond the Woop Woop I am delighted to say that you might as well throw your laptop away and enjoy good company, good food and good drink that cost at least 50% less than those endured by you whinging poms. Imagine if you will the old Baron, tweeds and Borsilino cast aside for shorts and Hawaiian shirts, relaxing on the station house veranda, "a cold one" in hand chatting away to loads of Aussie Trollaighs not seen for thirty years, his only worry being the chilling evening air as the mercury falls below 30C when a woolly top will be required!

Dearest Dottie and I travelled half way round the globe, to attend a family wedding and then to make the easy decision to warm the old bones for a few weeks longer. Those of you who know me will realise that I avoid air travel like the plague, however for this voyage we blew the budget throwing ourselves on the mercy of Emirate Airlines Business Class for the whole 14,000 miles. These chaps swept us from the doors of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh to Glasgow Airport in a gleaming limo, this was all good stuff although our wait in Glasgow's "business class" lounge was a fairly third world affair. Unfortunately one of the chairs booked on our flight to Dubai was broken, meaning a relocation to the centre aisle were I had to endure sitting next to a young American executive who binged on free Champagne for seven hours only to collapse shortly before landing. One imagines that being helped pissed as a fart through immigration into a Muslim country does not go down too well with your average Arab official. We on the other hand secured the services of a gregarious Indian cabbie to show us the sights of Dubai and as dawn rose we marvelled at the development and the buildings of this modern city in a state which cleverly closed the taps on their oil reserves in favour of creating an international financial centre, with the oil to fall back on if the going gets tough. A most impressive place although to be honest not somewhere on our vacation wish list.

Back at the spectacular Dubai terminal 3, we had time to relax in a lounge facility that knocked dear old Glasgow for six or more accurately sixty six, then it was off for 14 hours to Brisbane now known not unreasonably as Brisvegas by the locals. Smart frequent fliers head for Sydney with an internal hop north to Brissie as the busier route boasts more modern aircraft, however we certainly could not complain about the comfort and service we received. Thankfully no drunken Americans, although I would not recommend trying to watch three different movies on one flight, the plots become hopelessly mixed up in the minds of the elderly. Another dawn landing, this time to be met by family and whisked off to the edge of the tropical rainforest with hardly time to get the Raybans on, feel the rush of the warmth, the humidity and hear the Kookaburras laugh for the first time in twenty seven years. Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.