Next day your two globetrotters decided to "go into town" like normal members of the great unwashed i.e. using the bus. Luckily there was a bus stop on the Wanneroo Road quite near the ranch and a reliable timetable made it a better prospect than relying on the bould Dublin Bus brigade. A peculiar sight to us, however, was the sartorial get up of the driver - short pants and long socks. Maybe he wouldn't have enough time after his shift to go home and change into the footy gear? Anyway when he informed us of the fare he also sounded to us exactly like Paul Hogan and all somehow seemed consistent enough. The other passengers were mostly OAPs (by the look of 'em) and we wondered if they had the free travel like back home. The journey into the city was straight and straightforward and terminated in about 40 minutes at the city bus and rail depot.                  

Perth is a large widely spread urban area with over 1 million population but the city centre itself is quite small. For a while we dossed around visiting the odd shop and cafJ and the Post Office to write and send the "wish you were here stuff" to the frozen masses back home. Then we took a notion that we should see the place from the highest vantage point. And so we found ourselves sauntering into the entrance lobby of a very tall bank building where nobody at all bothered us or even appeared to notice. In the event we nonchalantly pressed the button for the lift and stepped inside when the doors obligingly opened. Here the dial drive panel displayed buttons for 32 floors and so without further ado we selected number 32. Away up the box trundled with its wondering cargo until a "ding" announced our arrival at the top. Out we stepped into what looked like a reception area for some type of business operation or part thereof (it was that sort of scene where one naturally slid into jargon mode). Having adjusted our eyes (as well as that strange sensation in the belly from suddenly coming to a halt after a long ascent) back again to "normal" we spied an authoritative looking dame behind a big desk to which we made our way and enquired if we could have a decco at their fine home town from the viewing balcony outside. I don't know for sure what this lady thought but she hid it well and pleasantly replied that unfortunately it was not a public building and they could not facilitate our request. She expressed some sympathy with our view that this was a shame as it is sort of a natural curiosity for "toorists" like ourselves to be attracted to the high rise views of cities (and other things as I was to emphatically discover at a later stage of our travels). Although it was just a short interlude we parted friends, with her hoping we enjoyed our visit to Perth and we hoping she might one day make a few bob for herself selling a friggin' great idea to the City so as to keep foreign yokels happy.

Down again we went in the lift, this time at what seemed to be a somewhat faster pace and with somewhat lighter stomachs until we landed (again kinda suddenly) back at ground zero. We wondered afterwards over a couple of needed beers if the same laid back attitude we had just experienced could happen in any other bank building in any other part of the world. For at least two visitors it left a pleasant memory of a bank, for a change!            

The bus journey back out to the sewered suburban blocks (apologies to Eric Bogle and the "Cocky Farmer") was uneventful except for the "evening rush hour" traffic hold ups - same story everywhere on the globe.

The weekend saw us all at a party in Brennans' house (and back garden) for young Daniel who got engaged to his Scots girl Dawn. Here we again bumped into all the usual suspects from St.Patrick's Night including Bill (aka Robert the .... Nero) and Mary who had helped to "take me out of meself" before with the help of a certain Mr.Jameson one night back in Dublin during the previous August. This time around, however, I was ready and able to take in all everyone was saying to me without "losing the tune". It was interesting to hear that they tended to drive at night, despite the flying kangaroo, when visiting Melbourne or Sydney - one hell of a long trip from Perth. It was also interesting to hear about long stretches of road all to yourself except for the occasional "road train" and how long it can take to overtake. We were planning to get some wheels later for a couple of weeks and any tips on the Ozzie driving experience were very welcome.

Also among those I got into prolonged conversation with, was a Sheila (real name) who was competing the following weekend in a veterans swimming race. A great thing entirely (event and lady) although well past First Communion stage.                  

The other character at the party who imposed himself on me consciousness was a black cocker spaniel called Murphy. This house resident specialised in "hoovering up" any tidbits which happened to escape downwards from tables and laps, and powerfully efficient he was too. In between for some reason I can't fathom, he took the liberty of using my instep as a pillow upon which he snoozed and softly snored and blew the odd "silent but deadly". I don't know why dogs seem to take such a shine to me, and I can only hope it ain't because they feel I might behave with some degree of empathy with these habits when I'm asleep meself!   

Anyway it was another great night and we emptied a couple of barrels of Tooheys.