April 65. Arrivals lounge, Heathrow, UK.

I am so dumb.... I had to ask directions to the luggage wheel from the customs person.

The place was abuzz. Females everywhere, aren't there any men left in England?

Whatever would I do for entertainment?!

The customs area wasn't so bad. Tidy, devoid of foot traffic. But beyond.......

Beyond the safe and orderly interior of the big building there was a whole load of heaving going on; Noisy! Like a mob of galahs and cockys squawking over the last of the sunflowers. Truly annoying- Sheilas, kids, teenagers- all screaming, shaking and pushing at fencing and leaning over railings. I was reminded of the last muster when the new kid let another hundred head into the old holding yards way too soon, creating a melee of weight against flimsy fencing.

Further still, aeroplanes sat off to the left. A hive of activity beneath their bellies. Baggage was being unloaded or loaded as the case may be. Massive tankers refuelling the machines that heaved their way into the skies. Soaring like birds, droning like V8's, carrying precious cargos of families and friends.

Above, and as far as I could see, grey clouds blustered, threatening a downpour. Trees so green stared back at me from an avenue leading vehicles and lorries to and from Heathrow, the location I now stand. The lush foliage, such an opposite to the scrub I left behind. Gum leaves and Mulga feel more dry olive than lush green. With the exclusion of the gorge and its protective garden my eyes are not used to colours being so rich and fertile. I couldn't wait to see the rolling hills and meadows and sheep dotted knee deep on landscapes that allowed them to graze instead of search all year round.

The crescendo of noise festered like a boil.

Blistering with energy, asking for release.

I was clutching the big counter. Leaning back as far as I could go on an odd angle. Me hat was tipped back somewhat precariously to allow my widened eyes a view of the show. There were signs with hearts and flags with faces. While 'I love you' and 'welcome home boys' adorned homemade banners, strung and secured to fencing, was fluttering in the breeze. Some banners were tug of warred, pulled by females back and forth or in the worst case of uselessness I could see, big wads were bundled and waved, clutched in bawling female hands.

None of it is for me...Obviously.

'Beatles'.

That's his band...

No way.

Crikey.

I did the only thing I could think of. I took me Akubra off and turfed it blindly toward the counter. I wasn't missing this show for wombat's nuts and didn't want my hat stomped on by passing foot traffic if it fell backwards onto the linoleum floor.

They were all feral. Mad as cut snakes they were. Squawks and squeals pierced my eardrums with no end to it by the looks. Friggin mad nutters, should pull their heads in, the lot of 'em.

"Madam?" The official gentleman behind the counter stamped my shiny brand spanking new passport with a heavy handed thump and checked all my papers as I watched the frenzy of females. I glanced back to see my duffle bag being pulled forward. He then had the nerve to get some other bozo to come over and go riffling through my duffle and swag. They looked at me funny... probably cause I was travelling light, most of my gear was coming on a boat, hopefully it doesn't sink or hit one them icebergs or something. "Madam... your.. headwear"

"Oh. Thanks mate, definitely don't want to forget that, do I"

"No. Nor ... your bed" He pushed the bag back to my side of the counter in one hell of a state. Knickers sticking out through the zipper, my other flannel shirt scrunched and balled, shoved haphazardly back in the top.

"Too right, thanks mate"

They made me unroll my swag. My bed. Can you believe that?! They asked me why I brang it and I said I didn't know if Jim had a bed for me, simple.

You don't go poking your hands into another person's swag- first rule of droving.

And these fellas were pressing and lifting and sliding their hands all about. Gee, it was an invasion it was. Like Darwin all over again... No that's not right Darwin was bombed bad. Shouldn't go comparing the swag to that now should you Theresa.

I shouldn't rub it in, but I really laid on the 'Australian' charm...

Talking real ridgy-didge Aussie lingo. As soon as they called me cobber five times all with smirks on their faces, I saw bull dust red.

'Cobber' .... is Melvin's dog.

We don't say cobber anymore.

Mate- yes. Cobber- no.

With all the 'crikey this' and 'kangaroos that' I left the lot of them scratching their noggins and saying something about tea breaks to get away from me. Ahh, job well done, Terri.

I stood inside the glassed room looking out at the zoo...they were all mad as an emu with its head stuck down a hole. Screaming and yelling, carrying on like a bunch of drongos.

Then it happened- total bedlam without the bed... and the lam.

I swear to the billabong bunyips I heard the glass beside me crack. Crack I tell ya! I shifted over a smidge to stand by the bozos wide counter and saw a sight to behold.

A mob of fellas all in suits and ties like Mister Brazier wears. But these fellas were young and long-haired not old, nor balding; and none had a paunch like Brazier either.

The noise outside grew tenfold, the ground beneath me shook and as the fellas drew level to my possie I saw the four of them.

The four from the record that Jim sent all those months ago... One must be my brother!

I was fifty or so feet from them, I hardly knew him from a month of Sundays. I never studied that record after finding out the boys didn't know about me or the circumstances that surrounded my birth and subsequent trip to Australia.

I stopped worrying about fantasy trips and reunions. The dream had collapsed a mite, my heart settled to a pitter patter. England retained a special place but the fever had been broken and I took my parents to heart instead. Paid heed to the land and my upbringing more than searched for something that felt a lot less real in those months. Don't get me wrong, I still wrote Jim. I still felt something in my heart but it was like a babbling stream set in place rather a raging river.  

Gape mouthed I was watching intently and a couple of the fellas studied me, looking me up and down. My Akubra nicely perched, back safe and sound in its rightful place, sat low on the back of my head as I scratched my forehead wondering which was which out of the four of them. They all had dark hair and were tallish like me. Must have been my hat that caught their attention as they seemed to be staring as they milled, waiting just inside the doors to the exit. I'm sure they have seen people in moleskins and boots before.

Them stood there, like shags on a rock, just inside the building, with windows all about, was creating even more screaming ruckus and turmoil!

More!

Two winked, one waved and an eyebrow popped up on last fellas face. His eyes so big and his nose...

It was like mine! He was him- Paul. I touched the front edge of my hat quick smart in a silent gidday. My feet moved and I stepped a pace forward, then another, so I could see him a whole lot clearer.

It was strange and exciting that I was seeing him. Like all the other girls on the other side of the barriers of the arrivals area seemed to be doing; I studied him too. Perhaps a tad more intently seeing as he was my flesh and blood an' all. My footsteps were halted. Suited men stood everywhere, flanking closer, surrounding those long-haired fellas, and Paul. These suited men stopped my progress any closer.

A whole heap of coppers arrived outside the building in a flash. All with funny bucket hats on. Arms linked speedily and some-how they merged as if one beast and created a narrow man-made lane for those fellas to walk through.

They turned as one and fled. Out the double doors, into utter madness.

Why didn't I say something.. Anything, god damn it!

He should know by now; Jim would have told him, surely.

I stared after the suits 'til I couldn't see them anymore.

"Best take a seat miss till all this heightened hysteria dies down" Another suited man now stood in front of me, carry-on luggage in hand.

"Why's that?"

"The building and surrounds are teeming with fans; it happens every time the lads come through. Actually, anywhere the band goes, it's like this"

"So, if they go for a walk or somethink?"

"Oh no, they can't do that, be mauled I'd say; by crazy females. Is that an Australian accent, I detect? I'm Derek by the way" Derek offered his hand and we shook.

"Yea um Queensland- Theresa" He seemed a nice sort of fella so I let him lead me to a set of seats close by. "I'm supposed to be meeting some Frien - rellos.. sorry relatives shortly"

"Let's give it half an hour then I'll escort you if you like. Where are you supposed to meet?"

"I'm not particularly sure I didn't know this joint would be so big"

"Yes, I do suppose Heathrow is a tad larger than Darwin or Sydney airports. Went through both with the band last year."

"You travel with them? Are you a friend or do you work with them?"

"I'm a journalist. I'd like to think I was a friend but I'm sure they have their reservations about people in my profession"

"How so?"

"Well some newspaper men like to bend the truth so to speak. Like one paper continually insists Paul is married."

"McCartney?" I questioned and Derek nodded in the affirmative "but he isn't?"

"No! He has a girlfriend of course, but I've never heard of their relationship being in the marriage realm. They have got the world at their feet those lads; I'm sure Paul doesn't want to be tied down too soon. Too much fun they're having, bar John of course, he's married with a child"

"Miss Mohin?" The same passport thumper from yonder broke into Derek's and my chin wag. I was a bit peeved to tell the truth. Derek was a darn nice bloke to take the time to chat with a... Yeah, I'll say it. An out of place sheila that looked like me. I wasn't in skirts or bonnets or scarves around my head. No black high heeled shoes, no lip rouge or blackened eye lashes. Just me, plain and simple, I guess.

He might of even thought I was out of place because I wasn't screaming up and down the halls after Paul.

"Yes sir?"

"Two gentlemen have come to collect you, they say. I have them waiting at the ticket collection office...would you follow me please. Don't forget your bed"

"Oh, I wouldn't forget my bed mate. Gee you lot a bonkers, who'd forget their bed in the middle of a flamin airport!" Old mate just walked off back to his station. "Well Derek. looks like my ride is 'ere"

Standing quickly, I slung my full duffle bag over one shoulder and picked the swag up to half drag, half carry with my other hand "Was very nice to chat with you... Um, yeah, nice. I might read one of your newspaper stories while I'm in town"

"Here's my card. If you want a guide for about town, perhaps to see some sights. I'm available for short tours and luncheons" Derek grinned, he was handsome and a put together fella "Take care and enjoy England, Theresa Mohin"

"Thanks!" I took the card and had a gander "Oh, fancy. Your very own card! You must be a mover and a shaker Derek... arrr " I glanced down at his last name "Taylor" Adjusting my duffle bag to the opposite shoulder, I shook his hand heartily "I might just take you up on that! Well then, I best hit the road. Ooroo"

Derek laughed and returned my goodbye in his 'language' "Cheerio luv"

I walked away laughing and smiling. Maybe England won't be so bad.

Glossary:

Swag- a moleskin bed roll for camping.

Duffle bag- big bag soft possibly moleskin too, can be tied to a saddle.

Droving - a cattle drive this is where cattle from a drought ridden farm which has no feed sends cattle on designated routes along roads to eat from the side... this can be thousands of kilometres in length sometimes ending at sale yards.

Ooroo- goodbye/ 'see you later' 'See ya later'

Gidday- Hello!

Ridgy didge- True blue. Real. Aussie lingo.

Cobber- (old word, no longer in use) A companion or friend (often used as a form of address between men)."G'day cobbers!" Mostly we go by Mate, well country folk do, city peps are more refined and don't use much Aussie lingo anymore- sad.

Bozo- basically an idiot. A clown of a human being.

Galah- A pretty grey and pink bird that unfortunately fly in that big a flock they turn from being pretty and cute to being bloody noisy!

...And heaps more Aussie slang I won't go into!