We arrived in Perth in the early evening, just as dusk was falling. Getting through immigration and customs is a breeze if you have no luggage, and our pre-arranged taxi driver was waiting for us. Things were looking up.
I thought we might be able to celebrate and see the New Year in, given the 8 hour time difference between the Western Australia time zone and our UK body clocks. Being awake at midnight on New Year’s Eve or any other day is virtually unheard of in our household, but partying on on at 4pm Graham Time could be a plan.
Even better, we could ring the family back home at midnight UK time, when it would be 8 in the morning here. We could celebrate the New Year twice, with not a hint of fatigue.
We had never been to Perth, so asking the driver for local information and nightlife suggestions seemed sensible. Well, our driver was not a fan of New Year’s Eve, celebrations in general or, indeed Perth itself. She suggested we lock ourselves in our hotel room and not emerge until daylight. Her car doors were always locked en route and she was, apparently, vigilant in avoiding criminals or anyone looking like they might be enjoying themselves.
She preferred to talk about her Summer cold, and its effect upon her respiratory system, before moving on to epidemics in general and natural disasters, as Nature’s way of culling us troublesome humans.
We felt less like checking out the nightlife and fireworks after that and more like making preparations for the apocalypse or a mass flu epidemic. Lorna wanted to tip her before the journey to our hotel was half done, whilst we still had the will to live, just to keep her quiet.
The recommendation and jet lag combined, drove us to room service and early to bed. I am afraid we maintained our party pooper track record and we didn’t stay awake to see the New Year in.