It is 39 degrees! Bushy-tailed and bright-eyed we are ready for the 9556 km journey ahead that takes almost twenty five hours!

Qatar is a success - staff pleasant, food edible and whiskey most generous! The only disappointment being that the much lauded Dreamliner from Doha to London is replaced by another Boeing 777 . Doha airport - elegant and efficient but lacking the opulence of Dubai.

I am obviously the archetypical drug-running Granny. I am singled out at every single customs point. Perth officers are aloof and officious. An officer insists that I stand exactly in a particular spot, raise my arms heavenwards and I am x-rayed. Fine. Another takes great interest in my hand luggage and sends it through the machine twice. He then extracts with obvious satisfaction, a tube of Vegemite. A stabbing finger points at the 145 ml printed in black. I am made to scrutinise it thoroughly. The offending object is thrown into a bin. Oh dear! 

And Heathrow was déjà vu. The processing of passengers has improved markedly since our last visit as has the zeal to weed out terrorists. An officer (thankfully a woman this time) requests I assume the now familiar crucifixion pose and commences a most thorough, extensive and embarrassing 'pat-down'. Her hand traces firmly the outline of my breast."Underwire bra?" she demands. "Yes" I squeak miserably. 

Meanwhile Digby is standing at a discreet distance observing all and trying very hard not to smile or laugh!

We arrive at Glasgow airport, catatonic tired and we are most grateful that the Holiday Inn hugs the airport tarmac.

Two things we have gleaned thus far:
 
Our luggage is far too large, heavy and cumbersome. We need half the size and half the weight!

If we embark on another long journey, we need to rest a few days midway.