As I was sharing a room with Elsa the night before leaving for the Snowy Mountains, my morning started with a jolt (Elsa pouncing on my bed), a blinding light (the light switch being turned on and off repeatedly) and a shrieking “ITS TIME TO GO SKIING!!!”

7 or so hours later we arrived at our lodge in Thredbo (“Australia’s premier ski resort”) to settle in and explore our home for the next week. A peculiar atmosphere to the village: apart from the gum trees and odd lorikeet jumping around in the snow you would think that you were in Austr(al)ia.

My memories of past snowboarding holidays are wracked with bruises and much falling over, so I was quite pleased when I took my first lesson and it all came flooding back to me: I am a snowboarding genius! A lucrative career in competitive snowboarding stretched out ahead of me, and after the second day I was regretting having taken lessons, so on day 3 I decided to take it up a notch and learn some freestyling (dude). The trepidation kicked in when my new instructor started speaking a completely different language on the chairlift: “Ok guys, we’re gonna lean on our backside, gear up for an Ollie to bonk on a box or two. The cords are pretty harsh, so lets shred. Steeze!” And before I could ask for a translation the 4 other 14 year old brats young people in my group disappeared down the mountain. I followed meekly which was my first error: my snowboard sensed my apprehension and threw me to the ground repeatedly like an unbroken horse. I did manage a few jumps and boxes, but my pride was sulking and refused to follow me, and so I had to shamefully slink down the up side of a few jumps. My future gilded snowboarding career was looking less likely by the minute…

The next day was a stunning, clear day, so Joe, Roger and I met right at the top of the mountain to ski / board down. Although I did manage to stre-e-e-etch a groin muscle (ouch), my pride and I were reunited and later, Kat and I did a few runs together, but by mid afternoon my board had become petulant again, so it and I agreed to do one more green run and then call it a day. This was one run too much for the board, and so it turned me upside-down while travelling at high speed and whacked me on the icy ground, winding me, bruising my ribs and somehow giving me a Harry Potter style cut on my forehead. This was quite enough for my pride and it slithered down the mountain with a sob and a wail, and I followed in a grump.

Over the next few days I participated in some high-activity groaning and tv watching, while trying to avoid being a human trampoline for Elsa and Thomas. You can just imagine my heart broken in little pieces when we left Thredbo and I couldn’t snowboard anymore. Boo-bloody-hoo.

Sadly though this did mean that my time in Awesome Australia (that alliteration keeps rearing its ugly head), and tonight had a fab – but last – supper with Gia, the Jacksons & Marshalls… but also my last night in Sydney.

And no more red wine or cheese for a while.

No kiddy-winkles/silly sausages too, which will be odd after 6 weeks…

Steeze, dude! (whatever that means...)

After a just over a week with Joe and Kat I bundled myself off to stay with Gia and Gareth, in their flat that has the most breathtaking views over Sydney Harbour (as well as a few resident tame kookaburras and lorikeets). The first evening I stayed with them was Gareth’s birthday which was good fun, if a little messy, and about 20 people tried to convince me (consciously and unconsciously) that Sydney is a VERY GOOD PLACE TO LIVE.  Over the next week Gia and Gareth (and the warm winter weather) put a lot of pressure on me to come up with a valid reason to not move to Sydney: there is cheese and wine in abundance, gorgeous weather, beautiful walks and views everywhere and the people are so friendly…

Anyway, this is not a marketing campaign for Sydney – I digress…

During the week with Gia and Gareth I gorged myself on ripe avos (a treat after so long out of SA); wandered along Bondi to Bronti beach; caught up with celebrity gossip (Nicole Richie is pregnant again! And what’s happening with Brangelina?!); went for a lovely dinner at a fancy-pants restaurant; met Clare Dorrington for coffee in Narrabeen; took long walks into Sydney CBD, the Botanical Gardens and Cremorne Point; and met up with Sue (my “step aunt”, although we have both agreed that’s a horrible term) to visit the art gallery and the aquarium & wildlife centre.

A week later I wrenched myself away from Gia and Gareth (and Gareth’s fab cooking), back to the Jacksons, who by now had another set of guests: Kat’s parents, Mary and Roger, had come over from SA for a month. After a lovely picnic at Palm Beach one day I went along to Rob (Sue’s husband)’s office for Friday drinks and a talk on 3D printing (he’s an architect with Woodhead). How comforting to be back in an office environment and talk shop! From there we wandered down the road (past some fab design-y shops) to the local curry house where things got very messy indeed (er, phoning Dad at 3:30am was probably not the best idea).

The next day, back at Joe and Kat’s, and in between much groaning and horizontal breaks, I packed for the Snowy Mountains while Elsa quizzed me on what I had eaten to make me so ill.

Perhaps a bad prawn, she suggested.

Guess where...

The overnight flight to Sydney was relatively painless (cramped back and numb limbs aside). Kat picked me up from the airport and was patient with me on the way to their house: “and this looks like Cape Town…”, “and this looks like Jo’burg…”, “and this looks like California…” (never mind that I haven’t actually been to California ). It was really SO lovely to see them after almost 2 years, and also just nice to be in a normal country where the signs are in English and I generally know what food I’m eating…Ohhh, I’ve had the best few meals I’ve had in years over the past week: cheese and red wine for dinner on the first night; 2 braais over the next 2 days and generally Kat’s fab cooking. My digestive system has behaved very well considering I have punished it completely (its probably in shock).

The past week has been surprisingly perfect – to be truthful I hadn’t expected much from Australia (what with it being “so much like SA…”), but the weather has  been glorious; there’s been so much to do and Sydney just has such a cool vibe to it.  First day was Zoo Day: a very cool zoo with gorgeous views over the harbour. (Although Ozzie animals need a bit of zooting up: brown and grey fur just isn’t all that exciting, guys). Over the weekend we whizzed about going from beach to beach with a braai at Bobbinhead with Gia and Gareth (again, so comforting to see people I know after so long of being a homeless hobo), where we got the fishing rods out and caught… some weeds, of course.

For one of the days this week I caught the train into town and wandered around on my own (Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Opera House, someone’s wife’s chair (actually a bit of rock – I was wandering around looking for a chair. Doh.), Botanical Gardens, The Rocks, George Street), and realised that there is just something so comforting about seeing a man in a suit on a mobile – he’s got places to go and people to meet and he’s not the slightest bit interested in saying hello or asking where I’m from. Quite a relief! It really is like being in a jumbled up version of SA or the UK. Prices are very similar to the UK (almost everything is the same price, except pregnancy tests, weirdly); the same films are on (Kat and I went to see the new Harry Potter – pure escapism for 2 hours); and you can even easily find a skinny, decaf, sugar-free hazelnut latte. Phew!

One factor that differs somewhat to the UK is that everyone is so sporty: the day that I went to town was clearly the day that no one went to work: they were all running about all over the show, looking very glamorous and thin and not the slightest bit sweaty. On the weekend at a beach in Narrobene there were a few surfers; one of them must have been financially challenged as his board was an old piece of wood that looks like an ironing board (more sinking than riding the barrels). Kayaking, mountain biking, swimming, quad biking, paragliding… everyone does something sporty. Puts me to shame…

Does knitting count?

The Jackson Clan