Sydney

As tourists, Jenny and I can afford to rent a swish apartment at Milson's Point, right next to the iconic Sydney Harbour Bridge. We can step outside and drink in the astonishing views across the river estuary, known as Port Jackson.

We're well aware that many Sydneysiders (including Baino and Gaye*) aren't so privileged and couldn't possibly run to a home anywhere on the waterfront with its eye-watering property prices. Instead of stunning river views, they have to settle for the suburbs and only come into central Sydney now and again.

At Milson's Point, even the tiny local theatre charges A$56 for a ticket (that's around 26 pounds). And the food shops aren't cheap either. You need a serious income to get by in this affluent enclave.

To the rest of the world, the bridge and the opera house symbolise Sydney and suggest the locals spend their time sailing their yachts along the river and swigging perfect wines from one of the nearby vineyards. Plus of course popping into the opera house for the odd bit of Mozart or Puccini.

The reality is very different. The locals are actually more likely to be crammed into commuter trains in sultry temperatures, wondering how to pay the mortgage or get little Brett into a decent school.

We're very conscious of our pampered tourist existence as we follow scenic paths around the leafy headlands, exclaim over amazing paintings in the art galleries, and then enjoy a leisurely Thai meal just below one of the most famous landmarks in the world.

Not only that, but we spent Christmas Day in our shirtsleeves as our home city of Belfast shivered in the usual wintry temperatures. Cushy or what?

No words can do justice to the overwhelming beauty of Sydney and its remarkable lagoon-like setting. I'm just glad I've been able to enjoy it twice over - and if my ageing body holds up, hopefully a third time.

* Finally met up with Baino and Gaye. Quite odd really, suddenly meeting the real-life creators of all those thousands of words. A bit like a real person stepping out of a dream - or stepping out of the pages of a book. Surely I'm hallucinating?