Sometimes, very occasionally, you'll have a day which you never want to end. You know, when everything seems easy and you end up with a stupidly big grin across your face. Well, Saturday was one of those. Picture the scene, I'm in Sydney and it's warming up after weeks of cloud and rain on the south-east Australian coast. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...
It was Friday afternoon when Rachel and I loaded up the car and strapped ourselves in for our first proper road trip Down Under. Albury to Sydney is a six-hour drive on the Hume Highway, a near-deserted duel carriageway spearing through New South Wales. Because there's so little traffic, it's a very easy journey despite sounding a bit epic. The rain lashed down for the last couple of hours as we approached Sydney but I had prepared an iPod playlist and we sang along to Tony Christie 'Is This The Way To Amarillo' to keep the mood light in the deepening gloom.
We spent the weekend with Matt and Michelle Wright - staying at the home of Michelle's parents. Rachel knew Michelle from a previous visit to England and although they are now based in California, the girls have kept in contact. Matt and Michelle had flown back to Oz for the birth of their daughter Sierra and it was brilliant to spend time with the three of them. They made terrific tour guides, as had Rob & Jan in Melbourne. As soon as we stepped off the train in the city on Saturday morning, the Sydney Harbour Bridge loomed large in front of us. There is a photo with us all looking more sociable but this one has a handy gap to show the bridge. As I recall, the camera was balanced precariously on Sierra's stroller.
Plenty of people were paying big bucks to climb to the very top of the bridge but we took a different option. Nudging into view above Michelle's right shoulder (see previous pic) is one of the pylons at the edge of the bridge. We lugged the stroller up the steps inside and emerged on a viewing platform which gave brilliant views of the harbour and city, now bathed in glorious sunshine. Of course, the Opera House was the focus of everyone's attention - although the Wrights pointed out loads of other good stuff including Taronga Zoo, Fort Denison and the Prime Minister's Sydney residence.
Back on terra firma, we walked around the water's edge and boarded a ferry to Manly ("grrr"). Midway through the voyage, we passed the entrance to the harbour, which opens out onto the Pacific Ocean. It would be quite daunting to float out into such a vast expanse of water. Next stop America... The beach at Manly was pretty packed with surfer dudes. We played a quick game of 'spot the European tourists' and noted that no-one was playing the bat-and-ball game at the water's edge, or anywhere for that matter. They can't get enough of it in France and Spain.
One of Matt's mottos is "if you can't see the ocean, don't eat the seafood", so we walked no more than 200m down the main street before stopping for fish and chips. The food was tops although I was caught out by a smoothie made almost entirely of yoghurt and milk (see photo). I did make amends the following day by ordering an ice-based fruit drink. There were tons of people on skateboards although this picture offers no evidence of that. Manly felt like a holiday resort compared to the city, despite being so close.
Our return boat journey was lent a phenomenal backdrop as the daylight started to drain away behind the towering office blocks of Sydney's financial district. Riding the waves back through the harbour with such artistry all around was quite magical. Melbourne may be the sporting capital of Australia but it doesn't touch Sydney for beauty.
There was another extraordinary episode still to play out. All day, the monstrous cruise ship 'Diamond Princess' had been docked in the harbour, dwarfing the ferries and looking more at home next to the glistening skyscrapers. While we stood next to the bustling outdoor Opera House bars, the captain gave three massive toots and slowly maneuvered her around before stealing away into the night. Cameras flashed around us and on the towering cruiser decks. The atmosphere was electric - we truly had been in the right places at the right times.
Before heading home on Sunday, we drove to the beach at Cronulla. Like Manly, it was really busy - even more so because of the 'nippers' surfing club for kids and a big surf competition in the afternoon. It could have been super-hectic but Matt and Michelle walked us along the coast to a quieter spot for our picnic. We shared the driving on the way home and were treated to another spectacular sunset. For the first time, it felt like we were coming 'home' to Albury.
I have one other story to share. Our lawn/back yard is a decent size and we have a petrol mower, which I attempted to use for the first time the other day. You can set the length you want to trim the grass to and I notched it straight down to the lowest setting. Seconds later, there was a crunching noise and the mower turned itself off. I had obviously set it low enough to maintain the wicket at Lord's, taking all the grass off the ground and some of the soil as well (note: it is fine). I did take a picture but thought you might instead enjoy this - taken in the back garden of our university house in Chichester when we went the whole hog and varnished a proper wicket, complete with nets and covers.
Plenty of you have commented on the blog so far, which has been amazing. It's good fun writing it and seemingly it is being read around the clock - not only because of different time zones, but parents waking in the night to look after kids and needing something to read in those small hours. Keep getting in touch, we love it.
It's hard to comprehend the images of snow in the UK and across Europe given the summery conditions here, but I remember all too vividly the chaos of driving too and from work in treacherous conditions over the last couple of winters. Take care and here's hoping the full football programme resumes asap. Snow news and snow pics both welcome.
Our first Saturday night out in Albury threw up more drama than we had bargained for. A light-hearted trip to watch harness racing at the Albury Showground was suddenly disrupted when stewards and police appeared, telling everyone to evacuate the viewing areas and to head back to the car park. With lightning bolts cracking the charcoal-black stormy skies overhead, rumours sprung up as to why racing had been halted. Soon, though, it emerged police had been told there was a bomb on the roof of the grandstand.
Bookmakers, spectators, horses, drivers and staff all stood and waited while police officers combed the grandstand. There was no evident panic and with children continuing to enjoy the funfair behind us, there was a somewhat surreal atmosphere. The storm clouds hovered, but never broke, meaning most of the crowd were still on site when it was declared safe to return to the race track.
At first, the grandstand remained out of bounds, with people's eskies (cool boxes) and picnic chairs sitting untouched. Racing restarted and eventually the punters were allowed back to their seats. You can see the local TV guys setting up for a report. This was big news for them and the local paper, and a surprise to everyone generally, given the relatively low-profile nature of the event. Fortunately, there appeared to be nothing more sinister than the hoax call itself.
The trots (racing) was almost a sideshow after that, but it was good fun watching the eight races which went on pretty late into the night, thanks to the interruption. My only gamble was on a steak sandwich from the snack bar, which came up trumps. There was loads of good banter and we met plenty of new people: lads at the bookies window and girls around the esky. After briefly threatening to mirror the 1997 Grand National, when an IRA terrorist threat forced the race to be postponed, we saw the harness programme through to the end without having to return on a weeknight.
On Saturday we drove out to the west of Albury, first stopping in the small town of Rutherglen, best known for its 23 wineries. I must also flag up the excellent 'Parker Pies', though, having chomped through a delicious steak and onion number. I could have paid several dollars more for a kangaroo or crocodile pie but why take a risk when there is perfectly good steak on offer? Anyway, you could sling anything in a pie and call it crocodile, the customers wouldn't know any different.
Despite knowing very little about wine, we did stop off at Campbell's Winery for a quick tour. The towering stacks of huge barrels reminded me of the Midsomer Murders episode when a man was found drowned in a vat of cider. There was no sign of John Nettles so we didn't hang around. On we drove to Yarrawonga, bordered by Luke Mulwala (see picture). It was an eerie sight, with the dead tree trunks spiking out of the lake. A watery desert.
On a brighter note, we stopped off for a round of mini-golf on the way home. Normally, the best courses are found at seaside resorts, but this one had some real testing holes and it's fair to say we underestimated it. I sneaked home in 54, with Rachel carding 56. We were both under-par but knew we could have played better. We may return before the year is out.
