Like an idiot I assumed that the ocean would be a no go zone because of the temperature, completely forgetting that I’m in Australia. At the height of summer. I feel no guilt in telling you all that the water was glorious. Apart from the day the sea lice drifted in – man they’re annoying. But because the water was so warm I was in there every possible minute that I was allowed. Either swimming, floating, getting thrashed around by huge waves or… learning to bodyboard. I had no idea how much fun riding a wave could be. It took me a while to pick up, but thanks to teachings from The Girl’s uncle I had it licked by the end of the holiday. I didn’t quite reach the level The Girl was on, but she had years of experience and a significant weight difference on her side. Whereas The Girl was like a leaf floating on a wave, I was like a half-masticated whale rolling in.

All other time of the week were filled with walks around the beautiful coastline, 4×4 drives through a national park and countless card games. We even found time to pop into a couple Surf Lifesaving Clubs – which are kind of like Wetherspoons, but with beautiful views and no alcoholics. So… not like Wetherspoons. I also spotted some more animals – an Eastern Blue-tongue lizard, a common tree snake (dead), another kangaroo and some dolphins. Oh… and a porn shoot taking place next-door to our apartment building.

That was until the 23 December – the day I learnt that the Christmas parcel my family sent had either been lost / sent back to the UK. I became morbidly depressed. For the first time I felt genuinely homesick and briefly contemplated jumping on a plane home. But I overcame that feeling (slightly) and just sulked mildly until Christmas morning when I was able to Skype my family and learn that my package was neither missing or on a plane back to the UK. It was still in Sydney, waiting to be collected. Funny how one piece of good news can change your mood so dramatically. In the end Christmas with The Girl’s family wasn’t overly different to a Vincent’s Christmas. Sure – there were prawns and a lovely walk on the beach; but there were also crackers, party games and warm sense of family. Or was that sun beating down upon me?

Boxing Day was the start of the Sydney to Hobart yacht race and The Girl’s mother had kindly bought us two tickets to join her, and other family members, on a boat which would be on the starting line. I had mixed feelings. I like being out on boats, but my stomach sometimes doesn’t. Thankfully it was behaving itself (probably because I only drank a glass of wine the day before) and I was able to enjoy the day. It was also an opportunity to meet new members of The Girl’s family. All were lovely. Even the one guy I was warned about being bit of a troublemaker, in the nicest possible way.

Before we even arrived in Australia, The Girl and I were adamant that we would see 2012 in with the Sydney fireworks display. But as time went by we both realised that if we wanted a good spot we would have to be up at the crack of dawn. And all the viewing locations were strictly no booze. It was looking like our romanticised idea of having a perfect night of firework viewing was over. Not great news to greet our friend who had just flown over for stay with us for New Years.

So we all made a backup plan to stay home, get pissed and then stumble down the road at midnight in the hope of catching some fireworks. It wasn’t a great plan and I personally wasn’t holding out much hope. The Girl and our friend went shopping for booze and a quick scout for viewing positions. A few hours later they both returned home excited as anything. They found a secret park just twenty minutes away with amazing view of the harbour, the bridge and the city. There was still a no drinking rule, but we’d get smashed before we arrived. All three of us had a great time watching the spectacular fireworks, then hitting The Cross for some cocktail filled teapots.

I did manage to keep one Christmas / New Years tradition – going for a swim in the ocean on New Years Day. Though splashing through the warm, blue ocean at Bondi Beach is a little easier on the hungover soul than the icy, brown waves in Devon.

My birthday this year was a million times more sober and civilised than last year. The Girl and I had planned to go to Luna Park, but the 15 January ended up being the first washout in twenty-five days. Couldn’t even escape terrible birthday weather in the southern hemisphere. But I realised that it was also the first time in twenty-five days that we didn’t have to see someone or go somewhere. So we ended up having a lay day of tea, cakes and DVDs. It was relaxing and well-deserved.

I did go out with The Girl and my friend on the 13 January for a big birthday bash. There were lots of ciders, shots with tiny gherkins, large portions of chips and two drunken Irish lads who were trying it on with my friend and one of her friends. It felt like a very British night out.

The grandparents house was amazing. They built themselves (or I suspect paid some men to build it) a few years earlier and in that time had turned their dry, dusty plot of land into an oasis. The vegetable garden was very impressive. We went for a walk through the quaint town of Canowindra. It was everything I’d imagined a small, country town to be like in Australia after watching The Flying Doctors all those years ago.

Later that evening we learnt about some family and local history. The family history first; The Girl’s ancestors helped out a local bushman called Ben Hall by giving him a horse. A bushman, if you didn’t know, is a highwayman. But Ben Hall is seen as being more as a hero than a criminal because of the circumstances around him. Next we learnt that during the Second World War there was a Japanese POW camp nearby. One night a lot of the prisoners escaped into the surrounding countryside. Some were killed, some were caught, sadly many committed suicide. Amazingly not one member of the public was harmed, though four Australian soldiers were killed.

Two weeks later we drove down to Canberra to meet The Girl’s father. We spent our Saturday on a walking / driving tour of Canberra were we saw wild kangaroos in a park, the embassies of the world and the surrounding countryside, which again, was lovely. For dinner we went to a tasty Thai restaurant and then to a Belgian beer bar for my first truly delicious beer since I arrived in Australia. I savoured every drop of that beer.

The next day we all went to Questacon – a children’s science museum. The Girl had fond memories of going there as a child and wanted relive / share those experiences with me. Her first words inside were “It’s a lot smaller than I remember. “, but we all had a great time. I even went on the death slide along with seven screaming tweens. Afterwards we all went on a Segway tour around the lake. I thought I’d take to the Segway like a duck to water, but I really struggled to get my grips with it. The Girl however, contrary to what I thought, was whizzing all over the place like a professional.

When we travelled down on Friday night it was already dark and stormy so we missed all of the countryside. Driving back Sunday afternoon was a treat though. It was a clear, bright afternoon. Hills and valleys were bathed in the rich, golden light photographers and artists dream of. Lake George (which isn’t a lake all year round) looked gloriously wild and rugged. Again… no camera. So just use your imagination.

Before I left for Canberra, a few people joked about Canberra being the worst place in Australia – that it was dull and lifeless. I think that is a little unfair. It is certainly quiet, the quietest capitol city I’ve ever been to. But it’s pretty too – if in a Stepford Wives way. It boosts plenty of sculptures, museums, parks, tree-lined avenues and the impressive Parliament House. The surrounding countryside, a collection of small hills, is also beautiful. If you were pushed for time, I wouldn’t recommend Canberra as a must see city. But if you were in the area, it’s certainly worth ducking in for a bit.

On Sunday all three of us went to Taronga Zoo for a grand day out looking at animals. We saw all the usual suspects; elephants, giraffes, lions, chimpanzees and tigers. Even ten week old tiger cubs. We broke up out days of meandering with a seal show and a bird show. The seal show was all fairly standard – seals barking, seals splashing, seals balancing balls on their noses. The bird show, though entertaining, wasn’t as fun as I anticipated. Although there was a funny moment when a duck quickly changed it’s mind about flying towards us once it noticed a falcon was “on stage”. We ended our day looking at Australia’s native species; kangaroos, Tasmanian Devils, Koalas, cassowaries and the ever fascinating reptiles. One woman was so excited in the Reptile House that I heard her scream “Oh shit! Look at the size of that snake”. Quickly followed by “Oh double shit! Look at the size of THAT snake”.

The weather report said that it was going to be one of the hottest days of the year so far, and it certainly felt like it. Probably one of the hottest days of my life. But you’ll be surprised to read that I didn’t wilt. Didn’t even really sweat that much either. The girls however were wilting. Probably because they both decided to wear black. We only had to suffer the heat until 5pm – a thunderstorm descended and cleared the air. Not before The Girl and I burnt a little

I’m still not sure if I’m 100% happy with zoos. While I acknowledge that they all do a great job with conservation and education, for example the plight of the Tasmanian Devils, part of me still thinks that locking up an animal is really sad. Especially when you see primates – you can’t help but empathise with them. I guess in an ideal world all these animals would be able to live their lives out in the world. But sadly we don’t live in an ideal world.

What I am 100% about is our new friend. The Girl and I are already looking forward to having dinner at her house on Wednesday.

P.S. Please don’t get jealous. I still love you all.

We joined up to a car sharing service called GoGet, which works just like Streetcar. There are vehicles all throughout Sydney, but we’ve got a lovely little Toyota Yaris just outside our flat which is really convenient. And using this service is a lot cheaper than buying and running a car. A downside to sharing is dealing with the potential mess of previous renter. In this case, pastry flakes everywhere. But we were able to get ‘credit’ from GoGet for vacuuming, so that was good. At times I still struggle with the automatic gearbox. After a lunch break I kept confusing the break pedal with the non-existent clutch pedal. Not really something you want to make a habit of while pulling on to a busy road.

The Girl had meticulously vetted every possible hotel, motel, B&B, resort, cabin and commune in the Blue Mountains before she settled on Eagle View Escape. The area approaching the cabins was already beautiful enough; lush, remote and familiar. Not saying it was the UK, but it was the closest Australia has come to it. The resort is located on top of a hill, next to a lake in the middle of nowhere. You have to drive on un-Tarmaced road for ten minutes before you get there. There is a small building sunk into the ground with a few rooms and then there are some wooden self-catered cabins scattered around the property.

We were in an open plan cabin complete with a kitchenette, small living area and outdoor area with BBQ. And maybe the reason The Girl chose this place – a spa bath sunk into the floor. “It’s not the only reason” she says defensively. She would be right. The cabin was great – well-built and environmentally sensitive. And the location was stunning. At dawn and dusk kangaroos would surround your cabin and nibble in the grass. During the day you would hear kookaburras laugh and see rosellas brighten up the sky. There were even a couple of alpacas and some goats wondering around.

We visited three places in the Blue Mountains; Katoomba, Scenic World and Wentworth Falls. We only went to Katoomba for grocery shopping. It’s also my first bogan community experience – reminded me a lot of Devon.

At first Scenic World looked like a soul sucking place, overrun with school children and crying babies. But I actually enjoyed it. There are a couple of cable cars to take you above the rainforest, some very scenic views of the mountains, a rainforest walk and the steepest railway in the world. The railway – a remnant of Victorian miners – descends 415 metres at 52 degrees through a cliff side tunnel. It’s steep and fun. Though The Girl didn’t agree. After the train ride you can walk through the rainforest and learn about the miners who worked in the area over a hundred years ago.

On our last day we stopped off at Wentworth Falls for a quick stroll and poke around the waterfall. We only trekked for an hour, but that was enough to whet our appetites for a longer walk in the future. Maybe when it’s not so hot. Sadly my camera died at this point, but there were some even more spectacular views here. Well worth a visit.

During our drive back to Sydney we passed two fire engines and a few police vehicles. We thought that there must have been a car accident. Then some more police cars. Another fire engine. An ambulance. After an hour into our journey back to Sydney we counted over fifty emergency vehicles racing in the direction of Katoomba – and some were still passing us. Something much more serious than a car accident. We had noticed some smoke while we were at Wentworth Falls, but we assumed that it was part of a controlled burn. The next day we learnt that someone had started a fire near Scenic World. There was some property damage, but no one was hurt.

I loved the Blue Mountains and can’t wait until I can go again. But it’s made me even more determined to see other places like Kakadu, Perth, the Great Ocean Road and Tasmania.

During my first weeks I was constantly tickled by what I saw; sometimes so much that I would make a comment to The Girl about it later that day. She was often indifferent in her response. But as weeks turned to months I gained a new understanding for the Australian weather. Most days have been bright, sunny and warm; almost like a perfect English spring. I’ve even managed to tan a little. But often, out of nowhere, an Arctic Antarctic wind will blow in and chill you to the bone. At first my naïveté (read:arrogance) meant that I would freeze while everyone else, everyone that I teased, was comfortable. I’ve since learnt to always carry a jumper and a rain jacket if I can. Rain storms can also be as unpredictable.

Despite this new found sensitivity to Australians “over dressing”, I have to tell you about one guy who I saw the other day in The Rocks. It was an especially lovely morning and I had already started to glow quite heavily during the 100 metre walk from the bus stop to the office. Up ahead I saw a man wearing a Drizza-Bone cape-coat and matching hat. I was incredulous. As I approached him I also saw that he was wearing a thick gilet. “The lunatic” I said to myself. Then as I passed him I spied that he was carrying an additional coat in his reusable supermarket bag.

The weather has started to improve recently, which means the jumper is being carried more and worn less. The rain jacket might even stay at home tomorrow. But now I face a new meteorological peril; the heat. And my melting in it.

This is our conversation. Just keep two things in mind – I was polite to him and he was already a little bit angry.

Thom: “Hello.”
Man: “Do you know if this bus goes into the city?”
Thom: “Yes it does. It terminates at Circular Quay.”
Man: “I know that, but what streets does it go down? I haven’t taken the bus in a while.”

By this point the man is getting unnecessarily annoyed and his face is starting to turn red. I desperately try to remember the names of streets in Sydney.

Thom: “Hmm… it goes through Hyde Park…”
Man: “Where?”
Thom: “Hyde Park. The big park near the Australian Museum.”
Man: “I don’t want to go to the fucking park. I want to go to the city. Where does the bus go?”

I composed myself.

Thom: “Err… Elizabeth Street and… You know what? Sorry, I don’t really know. I’m new to Sydney, but you can call the bus helpline on 131500. Someone will be able to answer your questions.”
Man: “You know? That’s just typical behaviour of you fucking snobby poms. Think you’re all too good for us, don’t ya? You’re all alike – moaning, elitist and think yourself so fucking fancy.”

He looked like he was going to carry on so I turned round, popped my headphones back on and carried on listening to Jerusalem.

There are several bird species in and around Sydney which I enjoy seeing daily. Cockatoos with their little yellow mohawks fascinate me when I see them eat with their little feet, although they are loud. They make this terrible screeching noise as they fly and only when they fly. Rainbow Lorikeets are pretty little… err… rainbow coloured things. At dusk large, loud, colonies gather together and roost almost turning trees multi-coloured. Lastly there are Ibis birds which The Girl sees as giant pigeons because they’re always hanging around bins. Sure, they’re grubby and slightly awkward looking, but I have a soft spot for them. I think it’s because they have runny noses. Oh… and there are Common Myna birds which I also love because they look so intelligent and fierce. But I’ve been told recently that they ain’t indigenous and they’ve become disruptive to the native species.

Last weekend The Girl and I travelled up to Narrabeen for a Father’s Day / housewarming BBQ with The Girl’s family. Within minutes of us arriving, the uncle who’s housewarming it was presented us with a small Tupperware tub containing a spider he found floating in his new pool. We all gathered around the rotting husk, but no one could decide upon what species it was – some said Huntsmen, others said Black House spider. All I knew was it was the biggest spider I had ever seen. And there could be more out there. Then on our way home I spotted a cute little possum hanging out by the side of the road.

This weekend The Girl and I were invited to a family picnic in Lane Cove National Park. It was a lovely little spot in the middle of the Sydney suburbs, but it felt much more remote. There was a river, lots of picnic areas and the whole place was surrounded by dense woodland.

As soon as we arrived we saw two Blue-Winged Kookaburras, a male and a female, sitting on a branch. After a few minutes they started happily laughing away. After we had finished our lunch The Girl noticed something out of the corner of her eye, sitting on the river bank. It was a little Water Dragon. Just sitting there – desperately trying to convince us that it wasn’t there. I was fascinated. Everyone else was nonchalant.

Bystanders leapt into action. One guy quickly explained to The Girl’s mother what happened. A matriarchal bank manager told me what was happening and what I should be doing. There were people with pillows and blankets. The Girl’s bosses, who lived round the corner, rushed to be with her.

As soon as I knew which hospital she was being taken to I jumped into a taxi. All I could think on the way there was “I hope they haven’t had to cut her trousers. They’re brand new. She’ll be furious”. It’s strange, the things which pop into your head at these moments. I had to believe that she was okay which is probably why I was worrying more about such trivial things.

At the hospital The Girl was lovingly looked after by a team of nurses, support staff and an Irish doctor who must receive at least one marriage proposal a day. Honestly, he had the whole package – salt’n’pepper hair, sparkly blue eyes, an Irish accent and he’s a doctor. There was also a physio who resembled a PE teacher. He had the unpleasant job of touching, bending and stretching The Girl’s freshly damaged ankle. That was not fun her. After about six hours of x-rays, exams and waiting we were sent home believing that it was just a severely bruised ankle.

The first week wasn’t too bad. I wasn’t working so I was able to look after The Girl. Bring her food, carry her to the toilet. There was a lot of pain and swelling, but she was very brave and toughed it out. We were due to spend the second week up in Brisbane to celebrate The Girl’s birthday with her mother, but the accident now threw that into doubt. But The Girl is very determined (stubborn) and with a pair of crutches hired from a local chemist we made the flight up there.

The Girl’s mother is a very well-loved and respected GP in Brisbane and she was able to trade in on some of the love and respect to arrange some appointments for The Girl. She was also able to provide the love and support that only a mother can. Over the weekend there was an unpleasant night where the ankle was causing a lot of distress for The Girl and she wasn’t able to sleep. For me, this was the first time that the whole thing seemed serious, real and upsetting.

First thing on Monday morning The Girl went in for two thorough scans of her ankle. It was there that we realised the true extent of her injury. The scans showed hundreds of micro compression fractures in the heel bone – one of the toughest bones in the body. The trauma was so severe that the Achilles tendon tried to tear away from the heel. This meant that the driver didn’t accidentally clip The Girl as we first thought, but in fact drove over her foot. The next appointment was for the fitting of her “robo foot”, a plastic cast which compresses and supports the ankle.

A few days later I flew back to Sydney to work, but The Girl remained up in Brisbane with her mother where she was due to meet the Head of Orthopedics just to get an expert opinion on the ankle. He said, and I am paraphrasing here, “it’s going to hurt a lot, but it’s going to be okay in four months time ”. This means that The Girl can fly home today.

It hasn’t been a fun experience for anyone, especially The Girl. But we do remind each other that it could have been worse. A lot worse. Both of us would like to thank the healthcare professionals, family and friends who have helped both of us over the past few weeks.

I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff on the London Underground, but this is by far the most touching / disgusting thing I’ve ever seen on public transport.