Leichhardt

After the problems I've been having finding a comfy pair of winter boots, I headed off to Leichhardt this afternoon. According to the Lonely Planet guidebook, it's also referred to as "Dykehhardt" owing to the profusion of gay women living in the area, so I figured it would be as good a place as any to look for comfy shoes. These lesbians aren't stupid, you won't catch them risking bunions through cramming their feet into pointy heels.

Anyway, I was disappointed to not to find any boots and didn't spot any obvious lesbians so perhaps the Lonely Planet have the wrong information.

Apart from the reputation as a mecca for gay women, Leichhardt is also the epicentre of Sydney's Italian community. The photo shows the Italian Forum at the top of Norton Street with it's main square and gallery shopping. Above that it's apartments, the whole lot an attempt to recreate a little Italian piazza. Only this is Australia, and as with so many other things, it's just a bit of an attempt. Australia is good at putting up building facades and doing a bit of a half-arsed job. I'm sure it was a novelty when first opened, but now it's looking tired and many of the retail units are empty, though one of the restaurants in the piazza does a cracking home-made gelato mixed up with Fry's turkish delight and it's worth going just for that.

I stopped for lunch at a pavement cafe attached to a bookshop and ordered some penne pesto then sat down at a table next to a guy in his fifties. He was reading the Sydney Morning Herald and looked exactly like James Hewitt only with grey hair. He smiled deliberately as I sat down, then pulled his paper back up. After my coffee arrived he started up the conversation.

"Why don't they put milk in it?" he asked

"Oh I don't know. In the UK the milk comes already in the coffee so here I have to remember to ask for some on the side"

"Ah, the UK. I was there three years ago, I loved it"

"I suppose you were in London, everyone was in London"

"Yes, out near St Catherine's Dock. But I went to Ludlow as well. My daughter was working there"

My penne arrived and I began to tuck in

"So what did you think of it? Of us Brits?" I said "I mean, if you had to sum us up, what would you say?"

"Oh God I don't know. Well, the barmy army is what immediately comes to mind. I used to feel irritated by them but now I like their humour and understand it a bit better I actually quite admire them for sticking with their team no matter what"

"Yeah" I said, "They're a funny bunch. We were here for the ashes tour in 2002 and we spent a bit of time with them. I loved it but I wasn't sure the aussies really got the humour in some of the songs. I was singing them and wondering whether we were actually really offending you"

"Which songs?" he asked

"Oh you know, 'You all Live in a Convict Colony' to the tune of Yellow Submarine, 'Ball and Chain'".

He smiled and nodded. "I like those"

"'Get Your Stars off our Flag'" I continued. No, that was the wrong thing to say, his face changed. I winced.

"Anyway" he continued "The thing I'd say about Britain, the thing I really noticed, was how everyone was really pleased with having tables and chairs outside and being able to sit outside eating and drinking. It was like they'd only just discovered pavement cafes. And the Brits themselves....well I'd say I like the ones I've met here, but they're difficult to get to know, more formal I suppose"

"Did you stay long?"

"Six months. I met a girl from Birmingham, I think you'd say a Brummie and we were seeing each other then she came over here to live with me. But it didn't work out because Tony turned up". He leaned sideways towards me and repeated "Tony".

I gasped. "Oh! Her husband"

"No, her ex-boyfriend. He moved in with us and stayed ages. The last straw was when she phoned me at work and asked me to pick up some tomotoes on my way home and I realised they weren't for her, they were for Tony. I knew then there was still something between them"

We chatted for a while longer and he asked for my number. I was so busy chatting with him and finding out what he thought of the British I hadn't realised he was chatting me up, touching my arm. Only 24 hours since I acquired that swimming cap and I'm beating them away with a stick.

I didn't give him my number, I just asked him where I could find a good parmesan and after he'd told me, I left.