"Are you still here?"

I was staring at a map of the Sydney Rail Network today - as you do.

When I first arrived in this city, most of which was totally unknown to me, what struck me was the vast amount of 'British' stations on the map. There is a Kings Cross, Sydenham, Chatswood, Epping, Chetenham, Penrith, Guildford, Lewisham, Dulwich, Liverpool - even a fucking Croydon.

Today when I looked at the map, it scared me how familiar all the places now are - and I don't mean because of their Anglo names. Because of my job - I have had media responsibility for every fire station in the metropolitan Sydney area - I really feel as if I 'know' this city.

None of the above means I'm not looking forward to moving on to warmer places at the weekend. The trip, as it were, is moving on to its next stage at exactly the right time as far as I'm concerned.

It is tempting when you come from London to compare the cities like for like, but that is actually pointless. Sydney itself is actually a relatively small place - no bigger than say Leeds. But because of the size of Australia, Sydney is classified as being more than its technical boundaries. It actually comprises an area hundreds of kilometres in height and breadth, with a population of 4.5 million encompassing many other towns - most of which are utter shit holes. It's a good job the tourists don't venture too far away from the city and the beaches here, otherwise they'd be in for a culture shock.

I will reflect more on my stay in this city in later posts. In the meantime, I am busy finishing up at work and packing my bags...

disaster zone

The death toll from the storms in New South Wales has now reached eight. Around 150,000 homes are without electricity, a state of emergency has been called and the weather has been described as the worst this part of Australia has seen for 30 years.

Shit the bed. Not quite what I was expecting to come across during a trip to this country. Killer spiders and sharks maybe, but not this.

The weather was so bad on Saturday that going out was almost impossible. It was hard enough trying to stop our kitchen door windows being blown through without even contemplating going anywhere.

I probably wouldn't have gone out anyway. On Friday night I got out of bed to have a piss, slipped and banged my head on the wall and very nearly impaled myself on a wine glass. That I didn't was because I managed to steady myself on the side of my bed with my right arm. In doing so, I basically forced the pressure of my body weight onto one arm and pulled muscles/ligaments in the process.

The upshot of this was a trip to the chemist yesterday for bandage strapping and anti-inflammatory pills. For fuck's sake. As if an ear infection, a tooth removed (all in the last month) and this fucking storm wasn't enough. I had to laugh, however, when I asked the old geezer in the chemist if I could drink alcohol on the anti-inflammatory drugs. It took him a few moments to even look at me. When he did, you would have thought from the look on his face I'd just asked permission to take a shit in the corner of his shop. "In moderation only, young man," he said softly but sternly.