Always take the weather with you...

Ok, I admit it. Last weekend's warm temperatures led me to wrongly imply that Australia does not go through what you or I would normally classify as winter.

The last couple of days have been horrific here. Wind and rain is battering New South Wales - on a scale I have only witnessed perhaps on a handful of occasions. Five people have been killed in one day, the emergency services are stretched to the limit and it would take a fool to leave their home tonight (just as well I've got fuck all to do, really).

What has been particularly annoying today has been the constant remarks from Australians at work about how I "must be used to this" and how I've "brought the weather" with me. Yes, because every day back home is just one constant battle against gale force winds and torrential rain, with the occasional relief of a nice cup of tea and a rendition of God Save the Queen. Muppets.

Talking of Elizabeth II, it's her birthday this weekend. The only reason I know that is because here in Australia we get Monday off for it. I wouldn't want you to think the weekend turns into some colonial establishment nonsense - it really is just a Bank Holiday with a different name.

This is my last full weekend in Sydney. I would normally like to mark any occasion with a party, but as it's forecast to rain heavily all weekend I may just savour the memories of this city and re-invest the little money I have in new experiences elsewhere on this trip.

Make sure you're connected...

Ten days and counting now until this rather bizarre situation of working and hanging around people I will never come across again in my entire life comes to an end.

It has crossed my mind to leave Sydney in a blaze of 'glory'. Perhaps I should crap on my manager's desk, raise the Union Jack over the Opera House and deck some of the posh looking poofs who live near me and walk their stupidly small fucking dogs in such a way that always seems to annoy me.

Got to stay calm, Matt. Don't blame the dogs.

In a rather strange attempt to stay interested at work, our web editor and myself took a colleague's possessions last week and moulded them in jelly (see above). And the strange thing is we don't really know why. Boredom can do funny things to you.

Although I want out of Sydney now, one feeling I have never felt during this trip is homesickness. That, I am sure, is largely attributable to the internet. I can type bollocks on here, e-mail a bit more, read all the web pages from home and pretty much watch any tv programme I want through the truly remarkable phenomenon that is youtube. I can have all the trimmings of life in the UK in my Sydney bedroom.

There are some drawbacks - such as decent newspapers. The Australian media is appallingly dreadful - you struggle to finish a drink in the time it takes to read every article in a newspaper you are actually interested in.

Three British newspapers produce weekly editions here, charging around $5 for the privilege. There is the Express, which is so lamentable I wouldn't wipe my arse on it and has the dubious honour of exporting good old fashioned British bigotry to all the news stands in Sydney. Then there is the Guardian, my favourite paper back home. Trouble with its international edition is that it is just that - a small paper full of world news. I don't understand the point in it. Why would anyone pay five times as much for a weekly round up of international news they can read in the world sections of any other paper every day? I'm sure the Czech government's policies on climate change are very laudable, but I'm not really that interested.

That only leaves the Telegraph, which despite its objectionable political views does provide what you want - a weekly round up of the best news, sport and comment from home. It's actually even quite funny to read the bile that is spewed forth from its pages. I had almost forgotten how bitter, hate fuelled and prejudiced the Right was. Well, almost. I look at the subjects these people rant on about with utter disbelief. It's as if they occupy a different planet. Mind you, I am a metropolitan left wing homosexual. I'd be slightly concerned if my friends started becoming concerned about fox hunting, the monarchy, the erosion of 'country life', British pensioners in Zimbabwe Nursing Homes (I'm not joking - this is a regular topic on the letters page), the future of grammar schools, whether the Rev Ian Paisley is a sell-out and David Cameron is a dangerous lefty.

Christ I'm bored. Roll on Saturday 16 June and my flight to Cairns.

Winter?

On Friday (June 1), Australia officially moved into winter.

I had to help organise a press conference related to this, in which ministers from the NSW Government would warn of the dangers of house fires during the colder months. You would have thought bushfires were the biggest threat to life and property down under, but that's not actually the case. Basically, because most homes here are not fitted with standard central heating systems that you or I would have at home, Aussies are reliant on crappy little portable heaters to keep them warm for the brief periods of the year when it gets chilly. And these are invariably a bit of a fire hazard. Particularly when you dry clothes on them, which seems to be a rather unadvisable habit out here.

So, the press conference was held and two ministers help up dodgy looking heaters and electric blankets. "It's freezing outside," proclaimed one of them. "Stay safe this winter!" A noble message, but it was 19 degrees outside. Watching Aussies behave in conditions that are perfectly normal to the rest of the world is highly amusing. The British in them comes out, they all complain about how cold it is and start wearing absurdly over the top clothing. But it is only marginally colder here than it is in the UK at the start of summer...

On Saturday I took a boat trip to Watsons Bay, a very wealthy retreat where the houses are jaw droppingly amazing. It was a gorgeous day, without a cloud in the sky and the temperature around 20 degrees. Families sun bathed on the beach and swam in the sea. And this is supposed to be 'winter'!

I will, however, be glad to leave Sydney in two weeks time and move north to hotter temperatures for a while. I'll also be glad to leave generally. I feel as if I have reached the end of my stay in the city and that I am hanging around somewhat. It is a fantastic, amazing place that I will never forget, but I feel as if I need to get on with the 'holiday' side of this trip now.

Part of this feeling has been caused by a particularly unpleasant break down in relations between me and Tom, who I had been seeing out here. I will not go into details. Suffice to say we had what might be diplomatically described as a difference of opinion over certain issues, and I decided that we shouldn't see each other any more. He will not be accompanying me to Cairns when I fly there in two weeks.

This has principally been my decision, and largely stems from the fact I do not want to carry on having a fictitious 'relationship' with someone I am likely to never see again as of a few weeks' time. It is rather more complicated than that and not my fault, but there you go.

Anyway, one of the consequences of this has been I am now persona non grata amongst his friends. Not quite how I envisaged leaving Sydney, but such is life.

Went on a tour of the Opera House on Sunday. It is a curious place in many respects. It looks best when set against the backdrop of the Harbour Bridge and the sparkling water, but inside it is slightly reminiscent of a 1970s car park. Its design is truly unique and iconic - it is actually two buildings, a stone exterior with wooden theatres inside. But there really is little you can say that is positive about its interior, other than the view ain't half bad across the harbour.

The Opera House was such a complicated design to build it actually took 14 years to complete - at a cost of more than $100 million. That's not an insignificant amount for a project commissioned in 1955. Puts Wembley into perspective, eh?