Canberra wasn't on our list of "things we must do or die" in Australia. To be honest, it probably isn't on the lists of many tourists, given the "worthy but dull" reputation of the nation's capital.

We changed our minds about going there when we looked at the map and found that it was only a short diversion inland from the coast road we were travelling. The weather didn't sound promising for a couple of days on the beach and with nothing much else to do before Christmas in Sydney, we decided we might as well give it a go.

Canberra is a city constructed out of nothing in the early 20th century as a result of the pathological rivalry between Melbourne and Sydney. Rather than see their bitter rival become Australia's capital, each preferred the creation of an artificial alternative. Canberra therefore lacks character or charm, with a run-of-the-mill shopping area, mediocre suburban houses, rather dusty grass verges and a complicated circular traffic system made worse by an absence of useful signs. On the other hand, as the political centre of the country it does at least have a few interesting sights and attractions.

Our first priority was the new parliament, which was constructed as recently as 1988. From the outside, very little of the building is visible apart from a large flag atop a pole sticking out of a grass mound. The grass forms part of the roof, so technically the country's law makers do much of their work underground. Once inside, however, the whole edifice is bright and airy. The ceilings are high and light is drawn down from wells in the ceiling.

We took one of the free hourly tours on offer and looked and listened as the guide showed off the building and explained the workings of Australian parliamentary democracy to our group of mixed nationalities. The country's political system was quite familiar to us, which isn't surprising given its evolution from the British model. The main difference being that the revising chamber, the Senate, is an elected body similar to its US counterpart rather than an emulation of the House of Lords.

The British heritage could also be seen in the physical nature of the debating chambers with the House of Representatives being decorated green - though a lighter shade than the British House of Commons. Similarly, the Senate's predominant shades of red evoked the Lords. Other features which probably seemed strange to some visitors - such as the Despatch Box, the Mace and the fact that the prime minister and leader of the opposition are situated just over two sword lengths apart - were again well-known to us.

We were quite surprised by two things, one of interest and the other of some concern - well, it would be if we were Australians, I suppose.

The first was the display of an English Magna Carta, not the original signed by King John at Runnymede, but one issued by Edward I in 1297. It had been found in the possession of the Bruton school in Somerset in the 1950s and promptly purchased by the Australian parliament.

The worrying aspect about our visit was that we both felt the security to be wafer thin. More used to the stricter controls for visiting the British Houses of Parliament and for air transport, we had almost expected a body cavity search on entry. True, there was an x-ray inspection of our bag and a metal detector to walk through. However, the guard advised us that it wasn't necessary to remove change from our pockets or our metal belt buckles. How much metal is needed to create a weapon from several small parts? Once inside the building, visitors are free to wander around much of it on their own including into the spacious viewing galleries in both chambers. It wouldn't take much for al-Qaeda or any similar group to infiltrate one or more terrorists, possibly armed with explosives or biological weapons. Not a happy thought to consider as we sat and munched our sandwiches on the grass roof.

In the afternoon we visited the National Art Gallery, which turned out to be on the dull side with only a few exhibits to tickle our fancy. In one section there were three versions of a 19th century painting featuring two gold miners fossicking for nuggets at a dig near Ballarat. Two had been done by artists who were teaching a class, the third by one of their students. It was fascinating to get up close and inspect the differences such as the shade of the rocks, the colour of a waistcoat, the angle of a rock, the orientation of two trees.

The other item of note was in the fashion gallery - an unusual dress designed by Issey Miyake and made of heavily pleated synthetic fibre. Katy has a Miyake top and skirt made of the same material stuffed in the bottom of her rucksack. It's an amazing fabric because it can be screwed up and crushed, yet when put on looks just like new, as it did when she wore hers to the wedding of her Dad and Jan in New Zealand.

We have two guide books to Australia - the Rough Guide and Lonely Planet. One felt the National Museum to be a waste of time with poor quality exhibits, while the other felt it was an entertaining and informative venue. We decided we might as well make the effort - if nothing else, then to see which book was correct.

In the end, we decided that both were. Yes, most of the physical items were of little intrinsic value, but the way they were displayed and the accompanying information made the visit well worthwhile. There was a fascinating section, for example, on the Australian climate and how Australians have lived with its severities.

One of the exhibits was an old Toyota Landcruiser which had been converted into a buffalo catcher. A video showed the driver careering across a scrubby plain in pursuit of his prey. When alongside the fleeing beast, a large metal arm extended down and out from the vehicle, over the buffalo's neck, bringing it to a halt. I had seen a similar process in the second Jurassic Park film and assumed it was fictitious. Obviously, I was incorrect.

With Katy suffering from the very cool temperatures used to help preserve the exhibits, we decided to leave. As we did so, we came across the most important of all the museum's prized possessions…

Rolf Harris's wobble board!

Proudly on display was the actual board Rolf had used for his version of Led Zeppelin's classic Stairway To Heaven and a 15-minute video about Rolf and his career. It transpired that he invented the wobble board by accident when trying to dry a sheet of hardboard which he had painted by flexing it - and thereby producing the distinctive sound.

Rolf is a man of varied talents and the film included a 1960s interview in which he described being taught how to play the didgeridoo by a Perth music professor who specialised in the instrument. Rolf gave a demonstration which included the complicated breathing technique - except that he was a bit rubbish at it. In fact, compared to the didgeridoo player we had heard at Home Valley on the Gibb River Road, he was completely rubbish at it. Rolf's breathing technique seemed to involve a quick inward snort of air when his lungs gave out and a corresponding change of note being played. The Home Valley guy's breathing, however, was completely seamless. While Rolf said he could keep it up for about 10 minutes, the real expert could go on for hours.

Perhaps Rolf should go back to his professor and ask for a refund. He casually mentioned in the interview that this apparent expert had only gone to the Northern Territory - home of people who really know how to play the didgeridoo - several years afterwards. It struck us that this was another small example of the way Aboriginal people have been sidelined in Australia, even in areas of their undoubted expertise.

Our final visit was to the national mint. Viewing galleries allow you to see down into the tool room, where they make the dies which press the coins, and the actual production and inspection areas. Not much appeared to be going on, but the displays of old and modern coins, and a history of coinage in Australia were interesting.

One of the information boards concerned commemorative coins, including one featuring the exploits of Edwin Flack, the only Australian to have competed at the first modern Olympics at Athens in 1896. The caption proudly informed visitors that as well as competing in the tennis tournament and the marathon, Fleck had won gold in both the "800 and 1500mm". I think that even with my level of fitness, I could manage to run a meter and a half in a decent time!

Richard