Now, most of you probably think that Lou and I are here to sunbathe and earn vast sums of money for not much work done. But that’s not the long term plan. Oh no. I'm pretty sure I can convince any surgical consultant back home that 6months of what might be loosely described as 'pissing around', is acceptable. A year or possibly two might be pushing it. So with some help (a name and a greasy email) from my old boss Mr Davenport, I contacted Professor of Surgery at Royal Children's Hospital Melbourne - allegedly the finest kid’s hospital in the world along with Toronto Sick Kids and Great Ormond Street. He was happy to see me, so I made an appointment with his secretary and booked some flights.

We finished a night shift at 8.30am on a Monday morning, had two hours of kip and headed off to Melbourne on the lunchtime flight. It didn't start well when the flight attendant told us that new licensing laws in New South Wales meant they couldn't serve me a beer. Apparently, this also meant that I couldn't borrow their bottle opener to open the Crown Lager that BJ handed to me as he dropped me off at the airport. (I couldn't open the second, third and fourth bottle that he'd handed me either.)

A quick stopover at Sydney and the next flight to Melbourne was a short one. Melbourne was described to us as the city in Oz that’s most like an English one, and they weren't wrong. I think most people base that on the fact that it’s a bit colder there than elsewhere and there is occasionally clouds overhead. But it looks like London or any other English city (the modern bit that is...). It has shit traffic, pollution, waterfront bars, a Chinatown, little alleys full of cute restaurants, universities, students and vomit. It also has trams. Loads of them. Driving and walking were hazardous - reminded me of Naples - you might be better to go on the red light as long as there's nothing coming. You also discover there are a lot of blind spots, even in a convertible with the roof off.

The first day we were there I went to see the Professor of Surgery who was in a particularly good mood - he had just been elected Director of the Surgical Department in the meeting he left to see me. He was just what you'd like your child's paediatrician to look like - fifty-ish, beard, big grin, giant pink bowtie. Could probably name all four teletubbies if you pressed him. I believe that he would be able persuade most parents that George Martin was the fifth teletubby too.

So while I met him, Lou went off to the Human Resources Dept to ask them about vacancies in the Paediatric dept for next year. She got told to bugger off as there was no chance of a job. I was more fortunate - Prof told me that he'd have little trouble fitting me into the rota. It works a bit differently here- the surgeons they have working for them are in fact Paediatricians simply rotating through a bit of surgery. Generally they're not interested and often try and swap out of the surgery part, so it would be great to have someone actually wanting to do surgery! I left the hospital happy that I’d be in Melbourne in April. Sadly, when we got home I got a mail from him saying essentially what the HR people had told Louisa.

That night we found the finest bar in the world - MOO bar. It’s a basement bar with a wine cellar to rival any London establishment, huge red leather sofas and stunning chocolate pave and cheeseboards. We even had to try some beautiful red wine - we knew Fraser would be proud, so we phoned him. Twice I think. Then it was on to the Hairy Canary, Lucy's favourite bar apparently, where they handed us an extensive cocktail list. Our eyes were immediately drawn to the 'Sour Faced Mandy' and the 'M3'. Cant for the life of me remember what was in them or what they tasted like, but it was off to bed after that. Seem to recall it rained on the way home. Just like home.....

We got our little Audi TT delivered the next morning and set off - at not great a speed - to the countryside. We drove a great big circle through stunning rolling hills and valleys that could have been anywhere in Sussex or Kent, with the roof down, sun shining bright, with an regular stops at wineries to refresh and pick at cheese. We thought Yering Station was plush and so we bought a couple of bottles to take back with us on the plane - one of which we'd had at MOO bar the previous night. Then we went to the Domaine Chandon. Which was a bit plusher. So we spent $305 on wine. Which, I hope, is currently being shipped up to us in Sawtell. It was staffed by a terribly nice Englishman from Woking, who loved living in Frimley for a short while and loved London and loved Melbourne and obviously we'd like to try the Shiraz as well wouldn't we.....they also made a sparkling red wine which was just like fizzy ribena - we bought two bottles for Fraser to turn his nose up at, and then taste, and then realise that its actually quite drinkable. Our man at the winery said that nobody in civilised countries should open Christmas presents without a glass of it in his hands. I think he may be right.

Still waiting for the wine mind you.

 

The trouble with having a country where 95% of the population lives on the coast is that wherever you go, you're near the beach. Its an even bigger problem when you're learning to surf. Now, we've got some good friends since we moved out here - BJ is a Kiwi doctor (Lou's level) over here to earn money to pay for his marriage and, more importantly, his six month honeymoon. He's marrying Sarah, Louisa's new best friend! Getting them together in the presence of grape juice has become hazardous. Many evenings, we just 'pop round for dinner', and end up in the spare room. BJ and Sarah have a dirt cheap off licence over the road from them, and we have lots of wine in the garage - when Alicia and Logan moved out, they didn't want to take it, so left it to us, along with the barbecue, oven and two bikes. We were doing them a favour, really. Our other good buddy is Scott, another kiwi, ED registrar. He's here to pay for his marriage and, more importantly, his honeymoon. He's marrying Jen. Who he left back in New Zealand.

So, back to the problem with all the beaches....it's the choice you see. Scott is an awesome surfer so says things like - "Oh, we'd better go to Digger's, because there's a southerly swell with a strong off-shore, so we'd be safe from the left-to-right behind the headland". I look blank and follow him to Digger's. All the beaches face in slightly different directions, so for every wind direction, swell direction and strength, there's a specific beach that would be suitable. Trouble is, English people dont get born with this knowledge. Kiwis assume we know what its all about.

One spot in particular suits Lou and I for another reason - Its got a fine restaurant that looks over the beach - It's called Saltwater at a town called Emerald Beach (just down from Sapphire Beach, which is just down from Sandy Beach, which is just down from bloody nice beach, next to really long perfect beach...). Saltwater does really good breakfasts, so any visitors will have the pleasure.

It was BJ's birthday a couple of weeks ago, so Sarah decided he deserved a treat. Being the oversized child that he is, her idea of a treat was to take him to the theme parks that are all located in the Gold Coast region - a collection of beachside towns that have merged into one big long metropolis. Central of all these towns is Surfer's Paradise - does exactly what i says on the tin.

The first night we arrived we went to Dracula's - a cabaret type restaurant. You arrive at 6.30 sharp, have a drink in the bar - all vampire themed cocktails, and then get on the ghost train through to the auditorium / restaurant. A scantily clad waitress throws drinks at you all night while you watch a bunch of amateur actors sing and dance in increasingly seedy and crude manners, until they have an awesome finale, by which time everyone's too tipsy to care about the bad gags. A brilliant night - quite rightly listed in the guide books as one of the top five things backpackers have to do when they land in Australia!

The next day we went to Wet n Wild - a theme park working on the principle that there are lots of different ways of getting you from a great height, to the floor, in bikini / swim shorts. It was amazing, and kept us busy all day long. There were lots of competitions that confirmed that the bigger they are, the faster they fall (BJ weighs 110kg - he didn't buy the beers).

That evening was a lovely thai restaurant in the hotel next door to us and a relatively early night. Still managed to watch the Liverpool-Bolton match over everyone's shoulder while sitting in the bar drinking. Would have kept it quiet if we hadn't been beaten badly.

Next day we went to Dreamworld - a very cool and large theme park two km down the world from Wet n Wild - they are in the process of building their own 'Waterworld' with, curiously, identical slides to the competition - it'll be open in December. BJ is afraid of heights, so it was a good feeling to besitting next to him while dangling our feet under us, 39 storeys up, waiting for the drop at 100km/h. See the photo.

Inevitably, we were the last ones in the park and got final ride on our favourite rollercoaster before driving the four hours back to Coffs.

As you know, Coffs has the Big Banana - we're told that Oz is full of similarly sized items - the only other one we found so far is the Big Shrimp, in Grafton, just north of Coffs. Rest assured, we'll be photographing every Big thing we see and posting them.