Bondi

When I moaned to my colleagues back in December that it wasn't hot enough, not what I expected from Australian weather, they told me to just wait until after Christmas. Sure enough, as January has progressed, the temperatures have been soaring and today was our hottest day in Sydney yet: 41°C. Even the breeze feels like a hairdryer on full power.

The flat is like a kiln, in the shade but holding in heat, and we are beginning to wish we'd got one with Air-Con. It was fine when we could open a window for a cool breeze in the evening. Now I can't get to sleep because the air is so hot and humid. But here's me complaining - I'd rather this any day than being frozen to the bone back in London.

When the weather's like this there's only one thing worth doing. No, not sitting on our backsides in the nearest air-conditioned flat, shop or arcade we can find. This is beach weather (for insane foreigners) and so today, with the masses, we caught and train down to Bondi where we enjoyed our first Bondi swim! The beach was predictably packed and blisteringly hot but the water was beautiful - so cold it was a shock when the waves smashed against our chests for the first time but after that a perfect antidote to the heat. The sunbathers, Calippo sellers and life-guards were out in force and scores of swimmers formed a line as they waited waist deep in the water, for the waves to crash in.

As I swam out to see I couldn't help thinking about the last time I swam there, some 17 years ago, when I was 10. We only came out for a week then. Long enough to see the relatives, get burnt, go for a swim and suffer jet lag. Flying here in a jumbo jet with the Queen was a pretty memorable experience too.

As we approach our departure date, I sweat the small and irrational stuff. I fear and hate those things which seem final, like leaving this flat, and leaving the office for the last time. Once we're gone though there's no turning back. Or at least, that is what I tell myself.