My dear old Pop had a voice to rival Nat King Cole. In my mind it is his voice that sings the beloved soundtrack to my childhood; a musical smorgasbord of jazz greats and hollywood idols.

My grandfather spent his working days sweating it out behind a couple of Clydesdales and a wagon of fresh milk but come Friday nights, come the crowd-filled, glittering Grand Pacific Ballroom in Perth City, he became something else altogether, before a mic, a 16 piece orchestra and swathe of adoring revellers, something quite breathtaking.

Mona Lisa was an academy award-winning tune, made famous by Nat King Cole in 1950, and made platinum in the mind of a certain little girl sometime after 77.  This is a tune that smacks of my grandfather. He’d sing it to my Nanna in the kitchen first thing in the morning over a steaming bowl of porridge, he’d sing it in the shed as he was drafting up another make-shift hand-me-down creation and he’d sing it at weekends up on the farm as we collected chicken eggs from makeshift nests under random wattle bushes.