Naiviety is an underrated expression. Being English and only living here for the past two years, I am indeed naive about certain aspects of Australia, but I am learning.

Once such area of my inexperience is Australian past tv stars'. Indeed, I had the pleasure of growing up with Pat Sharp of Fun House fame and Andy Peters, but my knowledge of the Aussie equivilants is non-existant. Or at least it was, up until last Saturday (4th) when I met up with an Australian who was famous back in the 90's by the name of the Sandman. I still know nothing about him, but at the time (I was smashed and with a group of Aussies who were all debating whether the man in question was who he was suppsoed to be) I followed him into the toilets of an RSL Club (it's a place where booze is cheap) and asked away.

Like I say, naivety is underrated. If I had spotted Pat Sharp or Andy Peters I wouldn't have followed them into the toilets (especially Andy Peters. That may sound homophobic, but I am in Sydney remember) to confirm their identity, but I had no qualms about quzzing the Sandman. I had a right to ask him in my opinion, just because I knew nothing of him.

I was polite, but I managed to insult him; I informed him that I heard he was big in the 80's, but he hastily corrected me and said he was big in the 90's. What he did during his heyday, I am still vague of (he provided voices for radio and tv commercials/stations I'm led to believe) and what he does now is anyone's guess. Still, nice chap, but he didn't wash his hands.

Maybe I should have started this installment by informing you all that my mum and my nan (perhaps the only two visitors to this site) arrived safely. However, considering I have been writing about myself for the past 20 months' or so, I am unlikely to change. Moreover, if they are indeed the only readers as I may suspect, what does it matter?

Anyway, they arrived safely, but more about that later...

The weekend when I was following strange, c-list Australina celebraties into the toilet happened to be the last Bank Holiday weekend in these shores until Christmas, and I managed to make the most of it. Saturday (still the 4th) evening saw me head to the Sydney Football Stadium once again to watch my adopted football team - Sydney FC - in action in the A-League. This time, however, I took Lysey (it wasn't to be her first football match; she has been in the VIP boxes of the same stadium to watch the same team - a most boring experience I reckon. In a stadium that holds 42,000 but roughly attacts 12,000-14,000 per week, sat amongst dignatries and suites wouldn't imrpove the atmosphere), and we were joined by two other couples - all friends of hers, but I have known them for over a year myself.

The match, or what I remember of it, was highly frustrating. We (note the 1st person plural pronoun I use for Sydney) only drew 1-1, but my concentration of the game was hindered by the copious amounts of 'frosties' I was consuming. Amongst the six of us was a South African lad by the name of Lloyd and he certainly knows how to hold his drink. We both went round for round and come the end of the night I was a staggering mess. (Perhaps the writing was on the wall the weekend prior when both Lysey, myself and her housemate attended Lloyd's significant other's house for brunch. He wanted to get on it at 11am on a Sunday morning, but I reluctantly refused at the time.) I have always stated that drinking inside a stadia is great from a social point of view, especially as one cannot take drinks to their seat in a football match back home, but there is drinking and then there is drinking. On this occasion we were drinking drinking!

As it was the Bank Holiday weekend, I suppose it's justified. On the very Friday (3rd) my mother, nan and I went to one of my favouite watering holes overlooking the Opera House and Harbour Bridge (find me another pub anywhere in the world with two more iconic sights), but nan managed to fall asleep in the pub, which led to a mausacline bouncer to enquire about her welfare. He soon explained that if she fell asleep again she would be asked to leave. She was only on tonic water, but I now see where my younger brother, Ben, gets it from.

These past two weeks have also seen me return to my former employer of three months' or so last year, the NSWFB. The beauty of this, apart from the flexible hours (I can practically come and go as I like, which is ideal now the clocks have gone back and consequently buggered up the English football kick off's), is that I can once again tell people 'I work for the fire brigade'. For every nine out ten times I explain my employment to someone, I am automatically asked 'am I a fireman?' Of course, who am I to correct them? I can see why it's an easy assumption to make, however given my work situation. (I am of course refering to my athletic build and not my work abode that leads them to put two and two together to make 22).

My workload, however, has increased ten fold since my last sojourn here. Besides the fact that I have, naturally, forgotten most of what I was taught, the new projects are more intense than last time. This definitely appeals; I get paid to use my brain once more and it keeps me on my toes. Furthemore, I am welcome to stay here for the foreseeable, meaning I have something to return to when I get back from Fiji in November. (I can also save a decent amount of money, too, for the aforementioned holiday).

Like I previously mentioned, both my mum and nan arrived safely on the Tuesday previous (30/9). Initially, their arrival resembled a pantomine; Kingsford Smith (Sydney Airport to you and I) listed the wrong arrival gate, meaning I was becoming frustrated awaiting their arrival from Seoul (Seoul being their stop-off). My nan soon cheered me up, however, when she noted that it was light for 9 o'clock. She was still in the world of Britain and assumed it was 9pm and not the 9am on Tuesday morning, Australian winter time. Prior to their arrival, I was joking with Lysey that I was grateful for not having a racist nan (some people have racist grand parents, I know this for a fact) as Sydney is extremely multi-cultural, but I think she may have changed in the 20 months since I last saw her: she was explaining that she wasn't happy about the prospect of eating 'worms' on their flight from Korea to Sydney so maybe she has changed. FYI, worms is noodles and I've never known of any race to eat worms.

To combat their jetlag I devised a thoughtful, but a little tiresome plan. According to their bodyclocks it was bedtime Monday night but I explained it was benefical to fight through it and sleep in accordance to the Australian time. Therefore, I took them both to the Opera House and Harbour Bridge before they both met Lysey for the first time. Some people make issues of first impressions, but neither Lysey or my family did, and for the record, I have been told that both mother and nanny are fans of my significant other. Excellent praise indeed.

Sadly, I was only able to take that one day off from work for their arrival. Therefore, I had mentally overloaded them both with things to see and do with the intention of them both being occupied during the day and then I'd walk to see them after work. Through a variety of activites, but most consisting of firstly visiting the Opera House, they managed to stay out of trouble, and at the weekend (the bank holiday weekend as already mentioned) I went into tour guide mode once again. I love playing that role; there's a sense of satisfaction when I take someone for the first time to the Opera House, Harbour Bridge or Coogee Beach.

Before the football shenanigans that Saturday I took them both around Darling Harbour and onto Paddy's Market. Sadly, it was chucking down, and a complete contrast to the day of their arrival when it must have been high 20's to low 30's. (Not bad for spring.) The following day (5th) both Lysey and I were on enternaing duty and we both cooked them a meal at Lysey's place (it had to be her place over mine. The cockroaches still reign supreme in my place and the potential ear-ache that would have produced was not worth it, so we opted for a safe bet). This was a first for me - cooking for my family, but I like to think I have changed a little since leaving Blighty. It was only spag bol washed down with some wine, but it's a massive development.

The next day (Monday 6th - and an unpaid day off for me) was the day we were planning to don our hiking boots and trek from Coogee to Bondi. I have completed this picturesque walk twice and I am always open to the idea of doing it again, solely because the views are stunning. Anyway, that very day we were about a third of the way round when the heavens opened, and the three of us were stopped in our tracks. (Luckily, we managed to find shelter and a taxi home.) I suppose the weather over here fails to dispell any myths about bank holiday weather back in England; natourisly, the weather leading up to a bank holiday back home is pleasent only for the extended weekend to be washed out, and that was duly the case over here in Aus.

Of course, I am not representing the whole of Australian in my weather report, but the whole of Australia did not benefit from the bank holiday. Only NSW, South Australia and ACT had the day off, leaving the remaining 4 states/terratories to slave away. More confusingly, the clocks went forward an hour here in NSW last weekend, but remained the same elsewhere, including the landlocked ACT (landlocked by NSW). The other states will catch up in time, apart from Queensland who are not open to the notion of 'day light savings' so they remain an hour behind NSW throughout summer (despite directly being located above NSW in the longtitude lines). I recall the president of Venuzela, Hugo Chavez, changing the times last year in his country without prior warning to the nation. I suppose the Australian way is democratic, but it's just as confusing for anyone on their travels.

Anyway, before the family arrived, I took Lysey on a long over due 'date'. Many moons ago (the exact time frame escapes me, but if you pressed Lysey I am sure she'll be able to provide a definite answer) we promised to take each other on a date, just to act like kids, but also to arouse some random excitement, and I duly delivered on Saturday (27/9). Opting for something other than a meal and a walk home, I booked us both an hour's Thai massage, followed by a visit to the cinema, but in the Gold Class section. The massage was just what the doctor ordered. For 60 minutes I was manhandled, squeezed and pressed back into shape and I felt revitalised leaving the parlour (it wasn't one of those 'parlours' before anyone assumes. Indeed, there was a sign pointing out that 'no happy endings' were offered here. Why do they need a sign? I assume someone had asked for one in the past, or maybe they have been constantly asked for. Either way, there was a sign illustrating that no hanky-panky was to be offered).

The cinema, probably the worst suggestion anyone can make for a first date, was our next destination. Luckily, I am past all the uncomfortbale silences/taking her to the most expensive resturant just to impress her situations synominous with a first date, so the cinema seemed ideal to me. (You're never going to build up a rapport sitting in silence for two hours, umming and arrighing whether to put your arm around her now are you?) We opted to upgrade, however, to what's a recently rejuvinated phonenmom over here to Gold Class. (Recently rejuvinated because of a national tv advertising campaign to get more people through the door and it worked on me). Sadly, we had to watch Step Brothers as nothing else was on, but during the film we managed to have nachos, chocolate sundaes and drinks bought to our already reclining, plush chairs. For the record, the film was highly riduculous and not particuarly funny, unless you have the mentle age of an 8-year-old.