God's Own Spot

And if it's Friday night and we've got a babysitter, there's every chance you'll find us here at the Opera Bar, with it's overpriced menu and overpriced cocktails, though with a view like that, you can forgive it anything.

We arrived a bit early and grabbed a table, we were waiting for Lucy and Paul to join us for dinner but as usual, they'd phoned to say they were running a bit late. Turns out they'd had to take Imogen to the GP because she'd come out in a funny rash; a rash the GP immediately blamed on furry caterpillars, though they're none the wiser whether that means Imogen's been touching them, eating them or reading books about them, just that it's nothing to worry about.

Anyway, the food was good, though by 10pm they'd cranked up the music and once again we found ourselves complaining about the racket and heading outside to the harbour wall to admire the view (they usually play mellow live jazz but tonight it was some sort of rock racket, not unlike the stuff they play on radio one in the morning these days).

As usual, we were bowled over by the sight. Does the novelty of this view at night ever wear off, I wonder. If you've never been to Sydney and you can afford to come to Sydney, you really must come because I've never read any travel book or travel guide that can do justice to the feeling you get standing here at Bennelong Point. I'm coming to think it's indescribable, and perhaps that's why nobody tries.

I swear you can breathe the atmosphere into your nose and mouth, especially on a balmy summer evening; it's as though the music and the chatter and occasional hoot of a ferry's horn hang in the air's humidity and you can't take your eyes off the way the harbour lights glitter on the water or the way the flying foxes swirl around the tip of the opera house, the underside of their wings lit by the same light as the sails. I could stand here and look at nothing in particular for hours, because only half of the experience is what you see with your eyes; the other half comes from the smell and the sound and the feeling of the warm air on your skin. And after you've been here, I'm not sure you ever really recover from it. You just go home and accept that's someone else's life and not yours; a place you went on holiday.

"God's own spot" I said to Darren as we stood transfixed.

"I was just thinking the same. Of all the places in the world I'd rather be, it's right on this spot"

"Me too" I replied. "I'm always complaining I'd rather be at Bennelong Point, it's the only place in the world I can honestly say there's nowhere else I'd rather be. When you stand on that spot, you just feel supremely happy, like the world has stopped moving and everything is perfect. God's own spot"

"So why don't you just move here?" said Paul. Paul is from Middleton in Manchester and still talks like an extra on the cast of Shameless despite several years living in New Zealand. He also keeps up to date on the British news via the BBC world service, so he's absolutely no good for a game of Dead or Alive either, because he knows all the answers. Paul has a way of saying things that give the impression you possibly think too much. If you love Australia so much, move to Australia. End of.

I didn't answer him because I didn't know how to. We went for coffees at City Extra instead and we changed the subject.