Clandestine

A stunning day in Sydney today; I spent a long time looking for a single cloud in the blue sky and couldn't find one, but even better than that, I didn't have to go to work.

And Darren's started calling me a conformist because I've taken to having a morning walk around Centennial Park decked out in a cap and sunglasses, though it was the addition of the i-pod that did it really, so now, apparently, I have all the requisites to pass as a Sydneysider par excellence. (Though being called a conformist by a man sporting such an enormous moustache is a bit rich to say the least. He bears such an alarming resemblence to the cricketer David Boon that people are beginning to mutter boonanza when he walks past).

Centennial Park is one of the things I'll miss most about Sydney because living in the eastern suburbs is like living nextdoor to London's Hyde Park. By eight in the morning the place is full of joggers and speed walkers and in-line skaters; mothers two abreast pushing jogger prams and all of this with the backdrop of shiny sky scrapers and glittering lakes and the sulphur crested cockatoos swooping about from tree to tree. And it's all a public space.

And that's one of the things that really strikes you about Australia. In Britain, there's always a sense that someone else owns the land, though it's not always clear exactly who, sometimes it's just the local council. So it's don't walk on the grass and exact change only and £100 penalty for dropping litter. I suppose the roots of this lie in Britain being a nation of landowners, I don't know, but anyway, it all seems a bit pessimistic and negative, as though there's an expectation that people will always do the wrong thing unless they're instructed otherwise.

It's very different down here.

In the Botanical Gardens they actually have signs that read Please walk on the grass, hug the trees and talk to the plants, and what's more they mean this (with the exception of a few rare or odd-shaped trees that are fenced off to prevent the Japanese tourists from posing on top of them). And as a general rule, you can park for free near to most of the open parklands, and the barbeques are free and the toilets don't smell, not even in a big city like this.

Last week we took a train from the city to Bondi Junction when we were shopping for my eternity ring and I noticed there wasn't a single piece of litter in the underground station at Martin Place, despite the fact there were no bins. If my memory serves me correctly, the railway stations in London have both bomb-proof bins and copious amounts of litter, and thus begins my rant about kids at school not doing litter duty any more because of health and safety regulations, though I'll spare you the proper rant for another (rainy) day.

As quality of life goes, Australia could beat most places hands down, which is why it's such an attractive place to raise a family. When I think back to Britain I feel gloomy and pessimistic and I wonder what on earth the Aussies must think when they land at Heathrow and get a £1 coin stuck in a dirty drinks machine at terminal 4.

Anyway, I like Centennial Park and I like the fact it's public property and I like the way it's respected. Perhaps the public ownership issue stems from the aboriginal belief system, where the land owns man, man doesn't own the land (though tell that to the lands rights commission and check the response - it's all very confusing). Or rather, I'd like to think that's where it comes from, but it probably doesn't.

Today we spent the day at Shark beach without Ella. We've been to Shark Beach without her before, so it's beginning to feel like some sort of clandestine meeting place that we haven't told her about; so clandestine that I'm beginning to think I might be having an affair. We kicked off with brunch at the lovely (1932) beach cafe, where we had home-made granola with yoghurt and berries. Then it was a couple of hours on the grill, the shore at Shark Beach sloping conveniently towards the sun, and a dip in the harbour waters, which have reached 21 degrees already.

This is the life I came to Sydney for. It's just taken me ten long months to achieve it.