Henry VIII only wanted one thing in life – a boy to succeed him at the helm. Currently, I would only like one thing – a permanent Australian visa. Henry got his wish when Jane Seymour dropped Edward (who in turn became Edward VI), but he died at the age of 15, so his wish was only partially granted. I have been here for almost two years now, so like Edward, my stay has been short but I hope to one day have permanent residency. In the meantime, however, I am preparing myself for a trip across the Tasman where I intend to stay for a further year. More about that later, though.

As it’s been a blinder of a summer here, my writing duties have been put aside. I apologise, but I would understand if it was the other way round (that would require England to experience heat above 20 degrees for a prolonged amount of time, however. The chances are slim). I have found plenty to keep me occupied, nonetheless.

The first weekend of the year in Sydney signals the start of the Sydney Festival, which usually lasts for three weeks and compromises of everything across the board in the field of arts and entertainment. As a curtain raiser, the organisers always hold a free day to start the proceedings and that very Saturday (10th) saw me, plus a reported 299,999 turn the streets of Sydney into a massive party.

As far as freebies go, this was amazing. I suppose London has its equivalent in the Notting Hill Carnival, but as I have never attended I cannot make a comparison. Therefore, I shall inform you of my first ever Sydney Festival free of any potential bias.

The headline act was Grace Jones, but throughout the duration of the night I found myself sandwiched between 500 people or so at the front and about 15,000 people behind me at the dance stage. The headline act, sadly, was Santagold and to be honest, she isn’t my cup of tea. All the gold earrings, shell suites and Ali G-esque bling hand motions emanating from the stage weren’t getting me going. Happily, she only played for 30 minutes, and from there Canadian DJ A-Trax and Australian dance duo The Bag Raiders kept me tapping my toes until the late hours that very Saturday.

Sadly, as it was a free event, many of Sydney’s Richard Craniums were out in force. A special mention should go to one chap who saw fit to climb a lamppost; that may not sound too peculiar, but considering there was no security at all in attendance, people were taking the law into their own hands to get him down. Initially they started hailing mostly plastic bottles at him, but then people began launching glass bottles in his direction – with a few smashing centimeters above his head. With all this glass flying about, people were getting hit in the cross fire, and I in fact came across a lass who was bleeding from the head – presumably caused by one of the bottles.

We were literally packed in like sardines, so there wasn’t any room for security anyway. I think the police and organisers vastly underestimated the amount of people who would turn up, ala Brighton Beach and Fatboy Slim’s concert back in the early naughties. Despite the idiotic actions of a few, the night was great and I for one hope to return to a future Sydney Festival.

Intentionally, the rest of that week was quiet as both Lysey and I had our eyes focused on our trip to Melbourne, in aid of our first year anniversary. (For anyone counting, the trip was about two weeks premature, but for the fact it’s Lysey’s birthday on the 3/2 we decided to go away earlier for our anniversary).

Our first port of call upon arriving into Melbourne was the MCG, or as it’s affectionately known, The G. (Or for anyone who hasn’t a foggiest what I am banging on about, the Melbourne Cricket Ground). Walking towards this magnificent stadium, The G imposes itself on the horizon. Dotted around the outside are statues dedicated to past Australian sporting heroes who have lit up the MCG, and I had my picture taken with Dennis Lillee. To get a view of the inside, however, we went on an organised tour around the stadium, which was followed by a visit to the National Sports Museum.

The ground holds 100,000 – not bad for a cricket stadium I am sure you’ll agree. The night before, Australia hosted South Africa, but some mere ten hours after the ground was spotless (the pitch was looking great, too. The grounds men were on their second grass cutting of the day as we entered). During that match, the commentators were making regular comments about the temperature and how much it had dropped. At the time I was still in Sydney, where it had been pushing 35-40 degrees, so I found it hard to believe. However, during our tour we all experienced the ‘MCG chill’, where the wind haunted the ground and made us instantly feel cold regardless of the actual temperature.

Our tour was hosted by a chap called Alan, who is deemed a big deal in Melbourne circles for he used to play AFL football for Hawthorn, which is a suburb of Melbourne. Indeed, throughout the tour, people were coming up to him and saying ‘Hi, Alan’. However, no one amongst our group actually knew him. He gave me some grief for being a Pom, but I didn’t mind; he was a good character and he knew the answers to all our questions. From it, I gathered the largest crowd ever inside was over 130,000 who witnessed Billy Graham, an evangilatist, perform. Also, it has hosted an Olympic Games (1956) and a Commonwealth Games (2006). (Again, not bad for a cricket ground.)

During our tour we ventured into the changing rooms; it was evident that there was a game on last night as game plans were still on the board. From their not-so-master-class-plans (Australia lost - again) I managed to decipher all the nicknames allocated to the Australian team. They were sitting were I was some ten hours previous and I felt great knowing that. However, I saved the best for last as we also paid the media centre a visit; knowing that Richie Beneaud (legend. If Australia does become a Republic, he should stand for presidency) was in the room made me feel like a kid at Christmas.

Furthermore, we also paid a visit to the National Sports Museum. Here there were displays of every past Olympic Games ever held, showing a history and memorabilia from each host city. They also had a section for the Australian pastime of AFL, and an equally bigger section for cricket. (Football, or soccer as it was labeled, had a small cabinet, but I predict that will grow into a side unit in years to come). The cricket section also paid homage to one of Victoria’s favourite sporting sons – Shane Warne. They have devised a cinematic hologram of Warnie which retraces his career, and rightly the display does him justice.

Lysey, rather unjustly in my opinion, gives me a lot of grief for my passion for stadiums. As I explained to her, they represent so much more than bricks and water; they embody patriotism, nationalism, hope, history, the past, the future and I always make a beeline for one in any city that I visit. (When I landed in Sydney on my own, desperately short of cash and not knowing anyone or anything, I first went to the Sydney Cricket Ground before job hunting.)

It’s worth noting that Australia has applied to host the football World Cup, be it in 2018 or 2022. I know that they’d do a fantastic job as the whole country is fanatical about sport. It would be interesting, though, to see where the final would be hosted if they were to win the vote. In all the cases I know about, the capital city has hosted the final, but Canberra wouldn’t even host a group match currently (by my reckoning, Australia would need to build another three stadiums so if they build something amazing then maybe they could host it, however I think it’s severely unlikely as it doesn't have the sporting culture synonymous with either Melbourne or Sydney).

It’s fair to say that Sydney is the glamour capital of Australia, so to any neutrals based outside of Australasia they’d expect the finale to be hosted there. However, Melbourne, it has to be said, is the sport capital of Australia, and with the MCG they’re ready to host it tomorrow (although Sydney has the Homebush Stadium, which is where the 2000 Olympic Games was held). Indeed, the rivalry between the two would be interesting to watch as there has been many a furor between the two when it comes to sport. The most recent example I recall was when David Beckham’s LA Galaxy toured last year; Melbourne wanted to host the game, but Sydney won the rights (I think the two clubs are linked behind the scenes with their respective owners).

In retaliation, Melbourne hosted a friendly with Juventus after the conclusion of the Serie A last season. The media built this game up to be massive, but because Euro’ 2008 was imminent, and that their season had just finished, no decent players attended. (Nonetheless, the Italians still won 4-1). In my humble opinion, neither Sydney nor Melbourne are the best team in Australia. Adelaide recently lost in the Asian Champions League final, so technically they’re the second best team in the region. (However, they also recently finished 5th in the World Club Cup tournament, but I don’t think they’re the fifth best team on the planet). However, Queensland Roar are the best I have seen this season, and I would expect them to win the A-League this year and then take the Asian Champions League by storm.

Neither Adelaide nor Queensland are capable of hosting the football World Cup final (although Brisbane – the home to the Roar – recently hosted the rugby league World Cup final so they have the stadium for it) simply because neither city is glamorous enough to host such an event. I would like Sydney to host it if they were to host the World Cup, but I suspect Melbourne would have the accolade, simply because they are the capital of sport and they already have a stadium that holds 100,000. (How many World Cup final stadiums have held over 80,000?)

To further emphasise this, Melbourne also hosts the only tennis ‘slam in the southern hemisphere – The Australia Open. Being as keen as I am on sport, we paid a visit to the tennis on the opening day (Monday 19th). To be honest, I am not overly keen on tennis, simply because of the snooty British attitude that has denied us of anything worthy of note to boast about. Tim Henman is a pompous public school boy, but because of his heritage he fitted the mould of what British tennis is/was after. Can you imagine if Wayne Rooney was blessed with a tennis racquet? Because of his Liverpool routes he’d be castigated against and would probably be a docker. Moreover, take the Williams sisters; they’re both from Compton – one of the roughest parts of LA. If they were English the most they wouldn’t be holding racquets for a living. (They'd probably be butterflies of the night)

When in Rome and all that, however; as we were in Melbourne during the first Grandslam of 2009 I was insistent we attended, despite my grievances with British tennis. To make myself feel better, we watched a British lass lose in the first round, and we also watched some unknown Australian lose. We bought $29 ground passes which entitled us to entry to any of the 19 courts apart from the Rob Laver Court and the Hisense Court. However, both Lysey and I managed to sneak into the Laver Court towards the end of the day’s play. The stadium was bowl shaped and the fans were stacked on top of each other, probably making for a unique atmosphere.

We were entitled to stay there all day and night (unlike Wimbledon, Melbourne has floodlights and the last game of the night usually begins at 10pm), so it was a bargain for the price. However, we left come 5pm simply because it was too hot. The court where we spent the majority of our day had sections of shelter, but this was nothing more than a sheet of tarpaulin, so it’s effectiveness was virtually non-existent. With the mercury pushing above 35 degrees this British lad couldn’t take the heat anymore so we headed back to our air-conditioned room after watching our third game for the day. (My Australian lass also cannot tolerate the heat; being as white as she is she burns within minutes – no exaggeration.)

Away from the sport, we also partook in things that are of interest to Lysey. Notably, this was going to see the show Wicked, which is based on the Wizard of Oz. Prior to attending, I was warned that anyone who had not seen the aforementioned film before would struggle with the show we were going to watch. Sadly, I fall into that demographic, so I was fearing the possibility that I would be making up my own story line in my head. In honesty, there were times when I didn’t have a clue what was going on, but for every time a puzzled gaze appeared on my face, Lysey would explain everything I needed to know.

I enjoyed the show, nonetheless. The lead actress was superb and she rightly received a standing ovation. Would I recommend it however? I don’t know. I still don’t really know what happened so I can hardly critique it in depth. Let’s just say this: if you’re in Melbourne with a spare $100 in your pocket and you haven’t got anything planned for the evening, go and see Wicked. Moreover, if you want to find out how the Wicked Witch of the West became so Wicked then go and see this play. (Incidentally, she isn't that Wicked after all).

As it was our anniversary we made a point of going for a meal to celebrate. (Thanks nan for the Christmas money – it was spent well). We headed to the area that is deemed the trendy party of Melbourne – St. Kilda. Our restaurant of choice, a random pick along a strip of many, offered us a bit of everything, plus it was all washed down some fantastic wine. Afterwards, with us both ready to pop after consuming one too many clams, we hit it up at many of the nearby bars.

Much to my delight, the state of Victoria serves alcohol in the pint measurement. I couldn’t believe my eyes – I haven’t ordered a pint for such a long time as they’re very rare in New South Wales. (NSW tends to serve alcohol in schooners – just over half a pint. To anyone traveling from NSW to Victoria who doesn’t fancy a pint they can order a ‘pot’, which is half a pint). Of course, I took advantage of my newfound joy to the maximum. It’s amazing how easily pleased I really am.

Getting drunk in a foreign city, despite how many times in did it in Asia, always throws me. In Melbourne the main method of transport is the tram, so when drunk and crossing the road one has to look out for any oncoming trams. They glide almost in silence, so you need to have your wits about you. Of course, I learnt my lesson at a young age when I watched Rita’s husband (his name escapes me, but my mum would know it) in Coronation Street sprint after her in Blackpool. He ran into the path of an oncoming tram and died.

Television taught me a valuable lesson that day, and on the subject of TV, Neighbours is filmed on location in Melbourne. Subsequently, many of the backpackers haunts host regular trips to Ramsey Street where you’re able to meet some of the stars and take a look around the street. I for one did not attend it, and I feel better for avoiding this cliché of an attraction. It amazes me the amount of people I have met along the way who have come to Australia with the intention of heading to Ramsey Street, yet I ask them in return if they’ve been to Ayers Rock and they usually look glumly back at me.

Finally, we headed back to Sydney on Tuesday (20th). It seemed that both cities had been basking in similar temperatures so I hope that vindicates the delay in this posting. As I write I am putting my finishing touches to my New Zealand visa application and hopefully by the next time I write (that could be any time as next Monday is Australia Day – a national bank holiday and the weather promises to be awesome once more) I will have heard some news of the good variety regarding it.

Being organised is soooo 2008! Welcome to 2009, the era of mismanagement and poor timekeeping. Embrace it people, for I have in earnest.

Realising that '08 could possibly be my last New Year in Sydney for a while, I wanted to go out on a bang. However, Sydney's events have an annoying habit of selling out almost instantly. This is never the case back home, but here everything for the 31st sold out as early as October. (Glastonbury didn't even sell out this year I gather, but the Kings of Leon sold out in six seconds over here.)

I am not alone in my newfound lackadaisical approach; Lysey has also embraced the New Year in similar style as she managed to lock her car keys in her vehicle (30/12), thus costing her $150. To get them back she had to call out a locksmith, and at $150 a pop she managed to spend the money given to her from her Nan for Christmas. The money my Nan gave us is in my account, but it’s not awaiting her next lapse in concentration (that money is being saved for a pending trip to Melbourne).

Back on subject, as of lunchtime on the 31st I was frantically scrolling through the pages on eBay trying to do myself justice. I fancied either Shore Thing at Bondi Beach or Field Day, which was held on the 1st but because of the size of the event one would pass it off as being a worthwhile New Year's celebration. However, for both events sellers were demanding over $350 a ticket. I had managed to justify the sum in my head, but I was too late in bidding. On informing Lysey of my intentions she began demanding an excellent birthday present on par with my ticket. (It's not until February 3rd, but I am not spending $350 on her as I didn't get a ticket in the end.)

I suppose it was a blessing I didn't bag a ticket. I only say that because, according to the receptionist where I work, she said I would need to buy my drugs on top, thus making my day even more expensive. Recently, when I went to Global Gathering, there was a drugs bust and 52 people were arrested, and after hearing about it she wanted to know if I was one of them. Ha, I didn't know what to say; if I protested too much it could look like I was acting suspiciously and denying my habit, yet if I said nothing I would perhaps look sheepish. I did the latter, but I am no druggy.

So, instead of attending something big for maybe my last New Year's in Sydney for a while, I went for a meal with Lysey instead. At $95 a head, I would argue that this was worthy of being labeled 'big'. (They did throw in a free glass of bubbly though - how generous). Because of the timing, our restaurant of choice was offering a ’12 course grazing degustation menu’. When I made the booking I had no clue what the lass on the other end meant by ‘degustation’, and for anyone else out there who is none-the-wiser, it means a meal where there is a set amount of plates – and in our case, we had 12 to get through.

I imagine Rick Waller would enjoy a degustation. As for me, by the fifth serving – a tamari marinated soft shell crab – I was ready to pop. From that dish onwards I was taking one bite per serving and then saying to the waiter ‘next’! Consequently, I didn’t digest enough of the proceeding dishes of deep sea scallops, sweet potatoes and coriander dumplings, slow cooked pork belly, a sirloin of beef, Tunisian brik pastry cigars, raspberry sorbet and amaretto poached peaches to give them a rating. However, I must say the dishes that I did manage to put away – Pacific oysters, a baby spinach leaves salad, king prawns and Peking duck were excellent. You can see my point in why I reckon Waller would like to eat at Rubyos in Newtown.

Surprisingly, all the grub didn’t take long to get through, meaning we still had 30 minutes or so until 2009 was upon us. In search for a watering hole that looked half decent (it seems universal that places tend to charge patrons for entry to anything deemed ‘too decent’ on the 31st) we stumbled across a bar that had a live cover band playing. Once inside, I quickly gathered that Lysey was probably the youngest person inside, and I was probably the third or fourth.

The band was doing its best to get all in attendance in the mood for the big count down. It probably would have been useful then if they, or someone behind the bar, had a clock. There must have been 200+ people inside, yet nobody knew the exact time. After trying her best for a few minutes, the lead singer of the band instigated a random count down to bring in the New Year. At this time I glanced at my phone and to my amusement it said 00.03, so she was three minutes out. I find it amazing that on the one night of the year when it’s important to know the time, no one thought to bring a watch.

Anyway, to me, the New Year doesn't begin until the big hand has crossed the 11am mark, which is the exact time when England celebrates. (Fair play to Lysey, she sent me a text shortly after 11 to wish me a happy new year). I always sense that London attempts to compete with Sydney for the most spectacular fireworks, and in 2008 I would say that London was the winner. However, having watched Sydney's 2009 efforts on TV the next day I think London was doomed before they even lit their fuses. Simply put, Sydney's efforts were awesome. At a cost of $5ml what else would you expect? The NSW Premier and his cronies defended the decision to spend so much by means of a simple math’s equation: over one million were present in and around the Harbour Bridge come midnight so it roughly worked out at $4 per head. When you put it like that it seems money well spent in my opinion.

It might be worth pointing out that Sydneysiders, along with the vast majority of Australia, only get to see fireworks once a year. Mention the words 'Guy Fawkes' to any Aussie and they will usually look at you glumly. There is no such thing as 'remember remember the 5th of November' over here. In fact, the only place where one can buy fireworks legally in Australia is in the ACT (Australia Capital Territory - home to Canberra and not a lot else). Bizarrely, the ACT is also the only place in Australia where one can legally buy pornography. What a combination. Can you imagine buying those two in a shop? Would you hide the porn mag in the box of fireworks not to bring attention to yourself whilst queuing up, or would it be the other way round? I suppose you wouldn't need to bother, though.

Anyway, to get a glimpse of what was going on in the Big Smoke, I watched a synopsis of New Year celebrations from around the world. Ha, the BBC video reel rightly started in Auckland - the first major city to welcome 2009 - and having seen their efforts I would honestly describe the fire works I used to witness at Monkton Heathfield's bonfire night when I was a teenager as being better than those of New Zealand's second city. It's a strong possibility that we'll be there for them next year and I for one cannot wait! For the record, London’s efforts weren’t bad, but they also looked like Monkton Heathfield’s display in comparison to Sydney.

As it happened, New Years Day was spent indoors - and I for one was the main benefactor. The mercury must have been pushing the late 30's in the degree measurement, so I would have fried in such conditions. Moreover, on the night of the 1st there was a large fire in a chocolate factory in Sydney's inner-west (Marrickville to be precise, and we live in nearby Petersham). Inconveniently, the factory is located next to an electrical substation and as the fire soared that night the authorities took the decision to turn off the juice. 35,000 homes were affected, including ours, and as a consequence I had to sleep without the aid of a fan. As you may imagine, I didn't sleep too much that night because of the humidity, and to compound things further, we couldn't open the window for the waft of the smoke.

Moving on, 2009 has already bought about a new experience for me, and the year was only three days old when I went to my first ever cricket Test Match. I, along with seven others - three Australians and four South Africans - spent the day (Saturday 3rd) at the Sydney Cricket Ground for the Third Test, and I must say I had a great time. The only thing that would have made me happier was if England was the opposition, but seeing as the Saffas have managed to already beat Australia in the series (it’s their first home defeat in 16 years) I had plenty to smile about.

Sadly, inside the SCG they have banned the sale of full strength beer (the stuff that is roughly around 5% in strength). One of the lasses from our group put this down to the fact 'Australian men cannot be trusted'. I had to snigger at her tongue-in-cheek statement, but I felt discriminated against as, after all, I am an Englishman. (I wanted the strong stuff for I can be trusted.) Therefore, we had to make do with mid strength beer (3.5%), but it didn't seem to deter all of those in attendance; many people, presumably lightweights, were showing the showing the signs of intoxication come the end of play at 6pm. Nonetheless, it ensured a great atmosphere at the ground, and the 37,901 fans all went home happy (although some of that number were escorted for doing nothing more than being rowdy. The security on the day was on a serious power trip. Throughout the day there were loads of beach balls being thumped around the ground, but as soon as a security guard caught hold of any they would put a knife in them.)

It's worth noting that the total in attendance that Saturday surpassed any crowd at White Hart Lane, which is a little depressing. (I was knocking on the door of the pub at 6.30am on the very day, pleading with them to let me in to watch Tottenham beat Wigan in the FA Cup). Unlike any football match I have been to though I managed to get sun burnt even though we had overcast conditions for the entire day. They really should fix that whole in the ozone layer above Australasia before someone, such as me, gets seriously hurt.