It was 1996 and Matthew, aged 21, was making the long 3 day train journey from Perth, in Western Australia to Sydney. He intended spending some time in Sydney before continuing on his travels to Thailand. After two nights spent in the pretty uncomfortable sleeper seat, the train stopped at a small inland country town, Young, in New South Wales. The seat next to him was taken by Martin, aged 20. Martin is my husband's nephew and, at this time, we hadn't met him, only having seen the occasional photograph. Martin started up a conversation with Matthew, as they were going to be travelling companions for a few more hours. Martin, noting Matthew's haversack, asked if he was travelling and enquired about his plans. He then asked Matthew if he had ever been to England and said he hoped one day to visit the UK himself. Matthew replied that he was actually born in the UK but his family emigrated when he was a toddler so didn't really remember much. Martin then mentioned the only place he really knew of in the UK, "Portishead" which was where my husband and I once lived and where his grandparents still lived.