Meeting Shirley in Tehran

In 1970 I rode a bicycle from England to Australia. In Tehran I was asleep in my tent when, in the early hours of the morning, a vehicle woke me up. It parked nearby with bright headlights turning my night to day. Loud voices with Australian accents. The clatter, groaning and swearing whilst erecting tents. Eventually lights went out and the rustle of sleeping bags stopped. In the morning I met the for Australians and we spent some time together talking about our travel experiences - they were driving west and I was cycling east. One of them, Shirley, gave me her parents address and asked me to contact them when I arrived in Sydney. About a year later I was working in the design department of the Australian Broadcasting Commission in Sydney. It was lunchtime and I sat at my desk reading my travel journal. In the addresses section I saw the address Shirley had given me and read her father's name Bill Kennard. Nearby my boss sat in his office eating lunch and knocked on his door and sat down. "Bill do you have a daughter called Shirley" I asked. "Why yes I do" he replied, "she's living in England." I smiled. "I know this message is a little bit late but she said she's fit and well."