A few weeks ago I travelled to Broome for what was to be a 24-hour turnaround for work.

The first mishap came when good old Qantas decided to strike, which was announced the day I booked the flight and my accommodation – which couldn’t be cancelled without losing everything.

The afternoon before the early morning flight, I checked in online at work, printed out the appropriate paperwork and left it on my desk in a prominent position so I wouldn’t forget it.

Obviously not prominent enough, as it stayed there quite securely long after I got home.

On realising it was at work – and having been punted off a flight before because of a lack of paperwork – I decided that rather than drive back I would ring Qantas and ask whether I could get new ones at the airport.

I rang the number, pushed the appropriate buttons and eventually got the message about the call being recorded, which in essence means you are nearly going to get to talk to a human. Instead, there was nothing.

I hung on for a few minutes, but no music, no voices ... sweet bugger all.

So I reluctantly hung up and went through the whole exercise again.

Same again ... nothing. I then realised that not only were the engineers going on strike, but the bloody computer at the other end of the phone had also decided that it wasn’t going to call Australia home either.

So off I went back to the office in my pyjamas, at the wheel of my wife’s environmentally friendly car, praying that the police didn’t find me fiddling with the lock at work and think I was some type of deranged burglar sneaking in to steal the Monte Carlos (there were only two of them left, by the way).

The only plus to the ordeal was that I got to listen to Monday Night Football on Mix FM, with Gus and his team doing a poor imitation of Roy and HG.

But hey, with no cable TV, this was a definite highlight even if the Rabbits got the two points, which effectively left me last, behind a schoolgirl, in the Daily tipping comp.

Things got better after this. The next day it seemed all flights were delayed except ours, and my travelling companion and I arrived half an hour early on a flight which, if it had crashed, would have brought Australian Pensioners Insurance to its knees, judging by the average age of the passengers.

The only hiccup on the four-and-a-half-hour flight was someone in business class complained about the great unwashed using their dunny, so while 18 people had the use of one, the 140 others got to share two.

The queue at one stage nearly ended up in the sharp end of the plane, there was that many of us battling it out.

I must say arriving at Broome International Airport is quite an experience. It has the feeling that you are stepping back in time ... it is truly wonderful, as is the town of Broome.

So after the day’s work was completed, I considered some exercise – perhaps a swim in the beautiful Indian Ocean.

While I am fan of Australia Zoo and Underwater World, I’m more of fan of the latter’s pin-up vicious creature, the shark, than crocodiles.

At least sharks can’t chase you up the beach.

Why is it that some of the country’s most beautiful spots are guarded by four-legged, leather-looking eating machines that stop you from entering the water?

I was deciding where to go for a swim when I asked one of the locals whether there were any crocs in the area, because there were people swimming.

He casually replied there was only one but it hadn’t been seen for a while, then added that if I did go swimming it was best to take a dog, because if the crocodile was hungry he would take the dog first.

I made a mental note that if I ever moved to Broome and someone asked if I would like my dog walked, I should say “no”.

So it was off to Cable Beach to take my chance with sharks, which I knew I could outrun if it got to a foot race up the beach.

Now I am round and I have been around, and I have to say Cable Beach at sunset is one of the most beautiful parts of the world I have been to – and romantic as well.

Pity I was with an architect.