So if that’s Sydney, I’ve done it. Not in any expert way: I can’t give you a rundown on What’s On, the pros and cons of the latest Must-Sees or the state of the best-known tourist attractions, except that they’re still there.
I can, however, tell you that my nearest and dearest are as gorgeous, intelligent, hard-working and articulate as ever, and that it’s my deeply held belief that Sydney keeps a few cold snaps up its sleeve to coincide with my visits, which I do not appreciate. I am not a person with lots of inbuilt insulation, and my inner thermostat is not state of the art. It was freezing. I’m glad to be home.
Not that I’m talking temperatures that would cause you to blink an eye, except perhaps in scornful derision at my wimpiness: 9C overnight to 16C during the day. But while offices in Sydney come with central heating, comparatively few houses do.
I put this down to the first European settlers (only 228 years ago after all) who arrived from Britain in the middle of summer, poor things. They must have thought their misdemeanours had landed them in the fires of hell, and when winter arrived, apart from the odd day, it was a blissful, balmy reprieve. Sydney was HOT, in their view, and architecture developed accordingly.
However it didn’t rain incessantly on the drive down (bonus) and the day after tomorrow, it will officially be Spring and I’ll have survived another winter.