Bronte

It's late autumn and still the temperature in Sydney matches that in London, except at night, when we drop down to about eleven degrees. It's a bit chilly at night but we have socks and vodka and a single electric radiator so we're okay.

Late May is the equivalent of late November in the UK though I can't imagine many sane people paddling in the waters around Britain at that time of year. Even so, it seems the aussies are confused by the range in temperature because this morning my neighbour went out in Ugg boots and hotpants. I mean, it's either Ugg boots weather or hotpants weather but surely not both. Either that or I'm getting old and missing the point.

I like Bronte enormously. Jo brought us here on our first morning, back in January. I remember feeling jet-lagged and sick with the intensity of the sun and the heat and she made us drive around the headland until the sweep of sand and rolling surf came into view, commenting "this is the reason people come to Australia". She was right, it's stunning. Unfortunately everyone else feels the same, so the council have limited the parking to an hour. Still, the walk is downhill most of the way and it only takes about half an hour. It reminds me of walking down into Stockton Heath, though the view of the Pacific knocks the Bridgewater canal into a cocked hat. And just look at those crushed sapphires in the sky.