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Hyde Parkish

That’s a thing I love about my corner of the world: relentless and shameless name-plagiarsm. You can’t blame the early settlers/invaders for their homesickness but they were really grasping at straws — this place looks nothing like South Wales. In the same way, a Hyde Park of palm trees and ibises is a bit of a stretch.

I didn’t get a moment of sleep last night so I made a morning of it and took a walk. (Too much excitement about the new place, I think — can’t wait to show you round once it’s sorted!)

One thing I’ve noticed about Sydney — a symptom of the atmosphere, I suppose — is the prolific jaywalking. They make Londoners look patient. Melburnians seem to be pretty laid back by comparison; I seem to be bumping into people a lot more up here. Sydney’s struck me, so far, as a sort of work-hard-play-hard town — and it’s a hard adjustment for this sleep-hard-eat-hard soul. All the same it’s really growing on me, blossoming into relief that I haven’t condemned myself to study in an unbearable city.

Syds, you’re alright.



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