Come on Sydney, I was rooting for you

Hello again. Yes, it's been a while since my last entry. Been trying to sort my life out you see - with varying success.

After leaving Adelaide, we had a few more nights of travellerhood then it was down to the nitty-gritty of (a) deciding where to resume normal life and (b) resuming normal life. (I promise to add another entry later with some pictures from the pretty but very touristy Great Ocean Road between Adelaide and Melbourne.)

So, Melbourne. If you recall, our prejudices were pointing us to different outcomes: Faye was dreaming of Melbourne's gastronomical delights, but I was more keen on Sydney's weather and beaches. I always felt that Sydney was the obvious place to settle down for a while, and that unless Melbourne really charmed the socks off us we'd be daft to live there ahead of shiny Sydney. It got quite close I reckon - the view along the Yarra river on a sunny day gave the lie to my idea that Melbourne wasn't a looker - but there just wasn't enough of a spark for me. The beach suburb of St Kilda, where we stayed for just over a week, reminded us a lot of Brighton, and if it were a bit closer to the action in the centre of the city that might have swung it.

But as it was, after a few days we both came to the same conclusion: Melbourne was pleasant, could be a good place to live, but didn't seem worth missing out on summer in Sydney. So Sydney it was, and here we are...

We've been here about a month now, and of the four things we had to get sorted three are done and dusted, but one glaring task remains. After a few false dawns, including one visit to a local police station to hear a copper tell us in no uncertain terms "DON'T live round here", we found a superb place to live. Continuing the slightly camp theme to our time in Australia - we stayed in the Pink House when we first got here, our van had a fairy name, my surfboard is covered in flowers - our house is just round the corner from the biggest concentration of gay bars in Australia and quite probably the southern hemisphere. Yep, here you go to Oxford Street not to shop but to listen to trannie cabaret singers. Ah well. As is often the case with such places (Brighton back home for one) it's pretty lively and has some really good restaurants and pubs (yes, mixed pubs..). And it's on the bus route to Bondi beach, and you can walk into town, and our room has a balcony and an en-suite. Result. One out of four.

Then it was time to part company with faithful old Tinkerbell. To cut a long story short, we bought the van when it was a buyer's market, and sold it at the start of the summer, so we managed to get back exactly what we paid for it. Another result, especially as there was some work needed on the old dear. Still, it was sad to see her go, she'd served us so well and brought us so far. And I still think that's the most comfortable bed in Australia.


So, on to tasks three and four: jobs for the two of us. Well I suppose it was inevitable for Faye - she's never been employed as an adult by any company other than Kimberly-Clark, so why change the habit of a lifetime? Especially when they're based just the other side of the harbour, and Faye's got an ex-pat mate on the inside. So with immaculate timing, Faye was offered a job a few Fridays ago, went back to England for 2 weeks the next day, got back on Saturday just gone, and started work on Monday. Jetlag and all. What an example.

What a shame I'm finding it so hard to follow it then. I've been looking for about a month now - guess it's time to accept that even looking to return to my Helpdesk days is too ambitious and that maybe there's a decent dollar to be earned by dressing in a ballgown and singing It's Raining Men.

Only joking Mum.