The magnificent MCG

Here we are at one of the world's great sporting cathedrals; the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG). Despite its name, this 100,000-seater stadium is best known in these parts for hosting big football games every weekend and even before I fell in love with the AFL, this was the one place in Australia I simply had to visit. Games are televised from the MCG every weekend - it serves as the home ground for Collingwood, Hawthorn, Richmond and Melbourne - so it already felt like familiar territory for us. I had high expectations - and the 'G didn't disappoint. I'll pick up that story later on...

First, though, let me take you back a fortnight, to the Yarra Valley - a little way north of Melbourne itself. The teachers at Albury North, Rachel's school, had organised a weekend away and most of them jumped on the banter bus after school on Friday. We decided to make a day-trip the following morning and travelled with Ruth (above, second left). Ruth is sat between Hayley and Kath enjoying lunch - or at least the preliminary bread rolls - at Rochford Wines, where we spent the early part of Saturday afternoon. Across the table (right) were Paul [school principal] and Des [a fellow non-teacher] - both top lads and, incidentally, both Carlton fans.

The main event at Rochford Wines was a tasting session. We sampled three whites and two reds, following the six taste steps - see, swirl, smell, sip, swish, swallow. We compiled a photographic guide which can be viewed on my Facebook page.

And so to the 'G... To be honest, our Friday evening drive to Melbourne came at the end of a pretty rotten week - certainly our most difficult since moving to Australia. However, catching up with Rob & Jan - virtually family now - was a terrific tonic. By the time Richmond burst through their banner, we were in full weekend mode.

As you can see, we got decent seats. Sporting the woolly hat and St Kilda scarf is Bean, Rob & Jan's daughter, who told me before the game that Richmond's song is the best in the AFL. She was right.

First bounce. I do have my concerns about the state of the umpire's spine, but you can't question his commitment.

Richmond strike an early blow from the 50-metre line. They came into the game as big underdogs but Hawthorn were second-best for long spells.

Bosh! The Hawks pull one back at our end of the ground. A lot of the game was played in driving rain, which sent spectators in the exposed parts of the ground fleeing for cover.

As the afternoon wore on, the metaphorical floodgates also began to open. Richmond's tackling truly was tigerish and there was a sensational period on the final quarter when they kicked five goals in nine minutes to completely blow the much-fancied Hawks out of the water. Final score: 137-75.

Richmond's supporters haven't had many days like this in recent years, so the celebrations were long and loud at the final hooter. A purist would argue that we hadn't seen Hawthorn at anything near their best, but what's not to like when an underdog has its day? Also, a crowd of 51,000 for a game between two clubs in mid-table isn't something you'd find in many countries around the world.

The MCG was everything I expected. Very reasonable ticket prices, excellent views across the ground, good food and drink, easy walk back to the station. The atmosphere never really got going, but I've learned to lower my expectations on that front. Premier League tribalism is hardly likely to be replicated when fathers and sons, husbands and wives, and groups of friends sit alongside each other barracking for opposing teams. And that family-friendly vibe can only help when it comes to pulling in the punters. A half-full MCG is still an awesome sight. I'll be back.

IN OTHER NEWS...

I was in the supermarket and asked where to find satsumas. The look I received in return suggested Australians do not use this word. I settled for mandarins, which could well be the same thing.

State of Origin kicked off last week, Queensland beating New South Wales 18-10 in Melbourne. In the rugby league world, this is as fierce as it gets, but to me, it's more like the Boat Race without water. Maybe game two (of three) next week will capture more of my imagination.

Euro 2012 starts in less than two weeks but I will be starved of good TV coverage - and almost without any coverage full stop. Is anyone able to screen England games to Australia via Skype?

Bright. Ovens. Hangover. What?

Autumn is on. In May, which I still can't get my head around. Christmas in summer will be even stranger though. Anyway, a quest for the perfect autumnal scene led us on a short road-trip to Bright, nestled in the heart of north-east Victoria. Several people had recommended this town and our 'Lonely Planet' Australia guide book backed up them up. The first entry under 'Bright' read: "Famous for its glorious autumn colours." Decision made.

On reaching Bright, the woman behind the counter at the Tourist Information Centre told us the best plan was to "just walk or drive around". Heeding her expert advice, we parked next to the Ovens River and walked along the bank, crossing over this decidedly wobbly bridge after a few minutes. The Ovens is one of two major rivers in this part of the world, the other being the Murray, Australia's longest, which flows through Albury-Wodonga. The prominence of these two waterways is illustrated by the local Aussie Rules competition - the Ovens & Murray Football League.

Bright almost looks like a model village from this vantage point. The Bright Autumn Festival had taken place a week earlier and the town would have been buzzing. It would have been interesting to join the festivities, but we enjoyed having the streets (almost) to ourselves.

Time to dust off the self-timer, overlooking the Ovens. Suitcase restrictions meant these were the thickest winter jackets we could bring to Australia. Needless to say, we have already done some window-shopping for proper coats.

Autumn had certainly decorated Bright handsomely, but as we arrived back in Albury and turned into our street (above), I realised that you don't always need to travel for hours in order to capture the best seasonal photos.

IN OTHER NEWS...

At work, I have temporarily been moved from the Danone roster to 'on-call', following the loss of jobs at neighbouring factory Murray Goulburn (see right). This means I have been living the life of Jack Butland, the Birmingham goalkeeper put on standby by England manager Roy Hodgson for Euro 2012.

We joined Movieland recently and hired The Hangover Part II.    It was alright.

There was a sign in Bright which confused me. It was advertising pet-friendly holiday accomodation - "because dogs deserve holidays too". Where exactly are these dogs, desperate to get away from the daily grind of their nine-to-five kennel job, in urgent need of a break by the sea? Unbelievable.

Flying visit to the netball

"I'm flying to Sydney to watch the netball this weekend."

In all honesty, this was a statement I probably never expected to hear - but they were Rachel's words to me during the middle of another busy week at work. A chance to meet up with other netball co-ordinators from across New South Wales and watch the state's premier ladies team in action arose and Mrs T, ever the opportunist, grabbed it with both hands. Flight booked, I served as taxi driver to Albury Airport and we said our goodbyes on Saturday afternoon. At first I imagined a poignant scene from the movies, where husband and wife bid emotional farwells, but there was no emotional music and with AFL on the TV back at home, I made a quick getaway. Come on, it was only a 24-hour stop-over...

 The weekend away was also a chance for Rachel to meet up with Michelle Wright and her daughter Sierra (pictured), staying at the home of Michelle's parents, south-west of the city itself. Avid blog readers (if such people exist) may remember this was our base during our first visit to Sydney back in February. That weekend remains a definite highlight of our Australian adventure so far.

To the main event, then, NSW Swifts hosting New Zealand's Central Pulse within the confines of Sydney's Olympic Park. The sport gets far greater exposure than in England, a point underlined by the fact I was able to watch the game live on terrestrial TV. Despite Channel Ten's shocking coverage, I stayed tuned.

The partisan home fans worked themselves into a fervour.

As in football, handshakes preceded the start of play. Interestingly, the players didn't move down the line, instead just shaking hands with their opposite number and then retreating into the huddle. There appeared to be no Evra/Suarez snubs.

Swifts (in red) led for most of the game and could have been out of sight before Pulse produced a late fightback. The NSW girls held on to win 39-36 and Rachel was able to see the game out before dashing to Sydney Airport in her hire car.

We came across the photo diary of another guy on exchange to Australia (his mum is on the teaching programme). It's worth a look and I've attached the full link below, but this snippet resonated with me.

I fully understand how lucky I am to have been given this opportunity to travel... But there’s never anything like home. There’s nothing like landing on English soil, the plane door opens, it’s grey, it’s freezing and it’s damp. Back home I’ll constantly hear people complain about England and yet they’ve never seen the world.  Sure, Australia seems appealing to us Brits – the golden beaches, the blue waters, the gorgeous wildlife, it’s something we don’t have. But are you really basing your want to move to another country on a Google Image search? I know it sounds painfully obvious but living in a country is extremely different to taking a holiday in one. During the four months in Australia I’ve come to realize what a great island we have. It’s most definitely grey but damn it’s Great.

Read more and check out the pics at makingthemostofmytimeonearth.tumblr.com

Hairnets and home truths: the blog is back

So, where were we? In the far south-western corner of Australia as I recall; walking on long piers, gazing lazily across sky-blue inlets and eating over-priced snacks in tourist-hungry coffee shops.

That all seems a long time ago now.

After a sleepless overnight flight from Perth back to Melbourne (boisterous football fans, overbearing stewardesses and two passengers who required emergency oxygen) we made the three-hour drive back to Albury while the sun was still rising. From holiday bliss to real life in the heavy blink of an eye.

And from Western Australia's Indian summer directly into the heart of autumn on the New South Wales-Victoria border. Leaves now crunch underfoot, the sun vanishes by 6pm - no real dusk period here - and our house is cold. Most of the time, it's colder inside than out. We have no radiators and this wood burning stove is our only riposte against the advancing chill. It's quite good fun building and feeding the fire of an evening, but the warmth emanates no further than the lounge. Fortunately, Rachel acted quickly and bought an electric blanket for our bed.

My shifts at the Danone yoghurt factory in Tangambalanga resumed following our return from WA. A week of night shifts (11pm-7.30am) took some getting used to, but moving to afternoons (3-11.30pm) this week has probably been tougher, as between Monday morning and Friday night, Rachel and I barely crossed paths.

The work itself has varied slightly from packing to taking yoghurt samples and learning the basics of how the machinery works. Of more interest, though, may be this picture showing the hairnet and earplugs we have to wear for the entirety of each shift. As there is no photography allowed inside the factory, the best I could do for you was to bring these home and look slightly foolish in the confines of our house.

While our holiday exploits served up some good pictures and tales to re-tell on this blog, I can now take almost as much satisfaction by dispelling the popular myth that 'the Australian pace of life is gentler than in England'. Nonsense. Bills need paying on both sides of the world and our respective jobs have left us hugely relieved to reach the weekend. Shift rotation does mean I'm on days (7am-3.30pm) from Monday, which should be kinder on the body-clock.

IN OTHER NEWS...

I was asked some great questions this week. They included: "Is Amsterdam in England?"

Seemingly all Australian stereotypes are accurate. Everyone greets you by saying "g'day", my supervisor (a gruff-voiced man in his fifties) wears Ugg boots and one of my co-workers was called a "flaming galah" for incorrectly loading boxes into a machine.

I write this blog on FA Cup Final day. Even stranger than having to get up at 2am to watch the action from Wembley is the fact that the Premier League season is not finished yet. Another tradition slides by.