It’s lovely being in a hotel that’s right in the centre of the world. But it ain’t half noisy at night, and even though it was much cooler than Adelaide, it was still too warm to close the window.

But it is nice to be able to have a leisurely breakfast, read the local rag (the Sydney papers are much more sensible than the Adelaide one). And to watch the crisis unfolding not far away at the SCG. I’d love to be able to respect the Aussies for winning 16 tests in a row, but I can’t. On the other hands, the Indians are being given too much power. Just one thing you want to say, really – Grow Up. (Ricky Ponting is now complaining that they are being seen as arrogant. Isn’t that how you win that many consecutive tests?)

Anyway, I wandered round Circular Quay and, as it was raining, thought it would be a good time to do the Opera House Tour. Sunday early am was probably the best time as there were no rehearsals so we could go into all the halls. It’s an impressive building, covered in millions of cream tiles outside... no, actually it’s 3 buildings. Anyway. The undercroft has a few shops, and there was a market on the forecourt with a few crafty stalls. Inside the auditoria are worth seeing. And apparently the dearest ticket is $220 (About £100). So if it hadn’t been a choice of a Carreras concert or some average female singer probably called Katie playing the next night, I could easily have gone.

The tour takes an hour, and by the time we’d finished it was already nearly midday. It was getting hot as I walked through the Botanic Gardens, which are fairly extensive, running in a semicircle round one of the bays. Out to “Mrs Macquarie’s Chair” which is the best viewpoint for Bridge and Opera House. And on to the Art Gallery.

That’s quite a building, even if the embellishments outside give the impression of only being half-finished. And interesting mix of 20th Century and contemporary stuff, an exhibition of Kitty Kantilla, an Aboriginal artist, and quite a lot of Sidney Nolan. As usual some of the contemporary was completely incomprehensible, but there were some excellent photos. I was running out of time, plus it was well past time for food. So out to a kiosk in the Domain, where all they had was a Lamb wrap that sadly had more garlic than anything else. So, still hungry. More licorice toffee, then.

What I had planned to do in the afternoon was to wander the (few) winding back streets of the Rocks. It’s a tiny area, bisected by the freeway that leads across the Bridge. Many dead ends, little cottages cut into rock and old terraces with curly wrought iron verandas. And lots of people. The market here, again lots of craft-type stalls, was a mixture of utter rubbish, a fair amount of jewellery and some interesting stalls. Plus corn-on-the cob, so at 4pm, I finally had lunch. Next was the Bridge – not intending to do the official climb, but there is a supporting pylon that costs a little bit less. Anyway, by this stage I had cramp in my left leg, so the less climbing the better. It’s still a lot of stairs, and quite a good view. The weather was getting hot but I found some cool in the Observatory. Sadly the tour in the evening was booked out, so I had to content myself with just a tour of some old polished mahogany pieces of kit.

The observatory closed at 5, and I walked back under the Bridge to my side of the Rocks where I found a pub (the Mercantile Hotel – all pubs are called hotels here, I’m not sure that all “hotels” actually have accommodation, though) where an Irish band were playing. I dragged myself away after a couple of pints. The place was packed, a group of Dublin Rugby players were drinking as though Prohibition started at midnight. Are all Rugby forwards poured out of the same mould? Cos they all look the same. The first pint took me the same time to drink as it took India to put on 8 runs. I’m not sure if that says more about the speed at which I drink , or how slow the run-rate was. They were still in the game when I left the pub. Just.

After changing I walked back down to Hyde Park where, according to the paper, there was free music. What they should have said was that you could stand outside the tent for free. That’s not much use for cabaret. So I found a café, looking as though it hadn’t been decorated since the 1920s where I had a duck risotto. It was right next to the State Theatre which has golden fan vaulting in the entrance hall, and a bizarre mix of other styles all around in attempt to look opulent.

Next was a search for ice cream which took me back past the hotel, up to the waterfront where the fruit bats were jumping around in the trees. The poem from Alice in Wonderland: “like a tea-tray in the sky”? It’s not a joke. They are huge.

I was back in the hotel by half 9, in bed shortly after. Who knows how far I’ve walked so far.