Fellow boaters Olly and Dom squeezed me through the gridlocked traffic to Heathrow where I was greeted by Mark, the gracious provider of The Thumb's flight. After a pint and a lovely chat filling in the wait perfectly, I was quite pleased to see it was one of those huge new Airbuses that would lift me off the UK bound for Oz.
24 hours later, with a relatively painless journey via Dubai, one lands in Perth at 2am and heads to Subiaco, a very nice suburb where 'The Dazzler' a dear 'Smog Monster' friend of mine from Middlesborough is earning the equivalent of footballer's wages in this boom town exploiting this fine land of its natural resources. 'The Dazzler' was a bit rough for work the next morning due to customary welcoming drinks as I set about to combat the jet lag by staying in bed till four o'clock that afternoon.
Uncle Alan, who still lives in Perth, and due to the old guard being my granny and her sisters and everyone else involved in that side of the family have all since sadly passed away, the links and contacts have faded over the years - I can't find him!
I rang the two Alan Whitakers here in Perth and left a message. I know if I got a message similar to the ones I left I would have myself down as a nutter and duly ignore the request: "Do you know David Grady? I am his son, fancy a pint or a scooner, ehhhh...bye." The quest continues.
A friend of mine out here Ross, lead singer of 'Dirty Paris' and bonafide rock-lord, duely rocked' The Dazzler's gaff on sunday evening with a solo acoustic set as Ross's family and I quaffed plenty of rouge and ate a fine Sunday roast.