I flew back to Sydney on Thursday for the last time. My flight to San Francisco was the following day, and I had to collect the remainder of my belongings.

Right from the very moment I booked this entire adventure, I had Thursday 5 July down as one of the most difficult days - my last full one in Australia. It had hovered on the horizon for months. I thought it would be a near tearful conclusion.

To be honest, it actually passed like any other day. I decided against nostalgic visits to favourite parts of the city, or indeed one last big party in my bars of choice.

I did allow myself one last trip down to the park at the bottom of my street to take in the glorious view of the city and its harbour. As I was doing so, a little old lady tugged me on the shoulder. It was chilly by Aussie standards - about 15 degrees - and I was only wearing a thin jumper. She was concerned that I would be cold. 'It's ok,' I said. 'I'm English'. She nodded, smiled and walked off with her dog.

After getting together the remainder of my belongings, I made a final trip to the fantastic local Thai takeaway and the not to fantastic cos the staff are are aresholes bottle shop. Then I packed up my stuff and drank wine with my former flat mate. And that was that.

I will not know how I will truly feel about leaving Sydney for some time. All I know is that as I left, I felt very lucky to have lived in a part of the city that was bustling with things to do, forward thinking and tolerant. I have come to discover that this small part of Sydney is completely unlike the vast majority of Australia - which frankly is the complete opposite.

Like I said, in a few months I may feel totally different upon longer reflection. But on my last day, I questioned whether I would be happy to live permanently in a country with such backward social attitudes, culture, media and politics.

It would probably have all appeared different in 30 degree heat.