Having touched down at Sydney airport in May, we completed our circuit of Australia some seven and a half months later.

One of the items we inherited from the people we bought Ramsay from was a Santa hat. We've been carrying it around ever since even though it constantly gets in the way when I pack up the car. On Xmas Eve Katy insisted on having a photo taken of herself wearing it on the beach so we took the short walk from our campsite to Brighton beachfront. From there, we could see the planes landing at and taking off from the airport, making our circle exactly complete.

A circle of another kind could perhaps be discerned in that the beach was located in Botany Bay, site of Captain Cook's first landing way back in 1770

Special days are sometimes difficult to celebrate properly when you're living in a van or a tent and Christmas Day 2009 proved no exception. The weather forecast was unsettled - which was why Katy had her Santa hat photo taken the day before - so we thought we would head into Sydney on the train to try to find some life in King's Cross where we stayed in May. Sydney trains and buses, by the way, run a weekend service on Christmas Day - shame London Transport can't do something like that.

We therefore set off to the station at Rockdale, bought our weekly passes and sat on the platform waiting for the next train. Various people were around of course and I vaguely noticed a guy in a hat. Katy had just turned to me and was about to say, "He looks like Hugo from Agistri" when the man himself walked up to us. And yes, in one of those "Small World" moments, it was indeed Hugo.

(For those who don't know, Agistri is a small island where we holidayed from 2000 to 2007, including spending the whole summer and getting married there in 2007. Hugo worked at the Agistri Club, the wonderful place where we stayed most years and where we tied the knot two and a half years ago.)

Amidst much talk of coincidences and filling each other in on what we had been doing, it transpired that Hugo was only in Sydney for a few days prior to heading off to New Zealand, from where he originates.

After Hugo disappeared in search of his connection, we continued on to King's Cross, which turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. Perhaps we were there too early, but the place seemed rather dead so we had a rethink and decided to go to the famous Bondi Beach.

The weather was a bit grey when we arrived, but that hadn't deterred the many people on the beach - some just lazing around, some playing games, some even venturing into the water with surf boards even though there was little in the way of waves. We wandered along the front and came to the conclusion that Bondi is overrated. The beach is ok but not fantastic, and the shops, hotels and apartment blocks are a bit on the cheap side.

When it started to drizzle we went in search of Christmas Dinner and the only place we fancied was a gourmet burger restaurant. So yes, while the rest of you were tucking into turkey, or goose, or prime joints of beef or pork, we had burgers. With really, really rubbish chips. They were so bad we couldn't finish them.

As we left the girl on the till made the mistake of asking me if everything had been ok so I told her that while the burgers had been good, the chips were so crap they dragged everything else down. I pointed out that it was a disgrace that an establishment which claimed to be gourmet anything could not - if it had any pride at all - serve poor quality frozen chips. I think she rather regretted having asked!

After that we had a beer at a Bavarian beer café, but it was raining and miserable so we returned to our camp. All we did there was muck about on the internet, have a snack, phone various relatives, and then go to bed early. Ah well, not every day can be fantastic and when you're in a tent December 25th can be much like many other days.

The weather continued to be a bit grim so our next trip was to an area of Sydney near the Harbour Bridge called the Rocks. We had been there before, but it was fun to wander around the many market stalls. I even bought something - a small present for my mother to look forward to.

The Rocks is also the location for Sydney's Museum of Contemporary Art. Neither of us is much of an art fan, but it was free so it was a case of "why not?" A couple of hours later, it was a case of "why the hell did we bother with that load of garbage?"

Ok, ok, perhaps we are philistines. Most of the other people there seemed to be enjoying the exhibits, but we found practically nothing of any merit whatsoever. To some, three brightly coloured rectangles, arranged to form a square, might mean something profound. To some, only a highly accomplished artist could have made them "just so". To us, they were just three brightly coloured shapes which could have been painted by any competent six-year-old.

The 28th was my birthday and for once the weather wasn't a handicap to the festivities because what I wanted to do was indoors. I wanted to see Avatar, the new James Cameron film, in 3D at the world's largest IMAX cinema down on Darling Harbour. We had the foresight to buy the tickets in advance, because with rain hampering Sydney's traditional outdoors festivities, every show was booked solid.

The film was very good indeed with even Katy, who is not noted as a film fan of any kind, especially science fiction, enjoying it. As a film, the story was simple and derivative, but it was all about the special effects which delivered an alien world and an alien people in accomplished totality. It will be interesting to see what Cameron does if he goes on to complete an Avatar trilogy, which is his stated ambition. The story in the second and third films will be much more important because the audience will by then be completely familiar with his CGI world.

We also found the film interesting because of the way it portrayed the indigenous alien people, the Na'vi, as being very similar to Australian aborigines. Both have a very strong connection to the land and the natural world, and an equally strong bond to their ancestors. Similarly, the humans' generally disdainful attitude towards the Na'vi echoed the way the Europeans have treated the aborigines - and in many ways, continue to do so.

For some reason, however, we seem to be the only ones who have made this link. Most reviewers and commentators, even the Australian ones, have seen comparisons with Iraq or Vietnam, or perhaps colonialism in general. But not explicitly with Australia's first inhabitants. We find this a curious omission, though perhaps we have not yet found the views of others who have come to the same conclusion.

Oh, one last birthday note. What did I have to eat? A Mcdonalds burger and then popcorn in the cinema. I live the high life at times, don't I?

The sun decided to show itself the day after, so we took ourselves off on the ferry to Manly, on the north side of Sydney. We took our customary wander along the very pleasant sea front and decided that we liked it a lot better than Bondi. The main stretch was very long and jammed with people, but there were smaller coves at each end. We also enjoyed watching people playing beach volleyball on the nine or ten courts available.

One thing we have missed in Australia - well, I suppose it's mainly me who has missed it most - is really good ice cream. Particularly galling has been the surprising lack of Ben and Jerry's. But not any more! There was a B&J outlet on Manly sea front and I just HAD to indulge. I made the mistake of ordering a triple scoop cone. Well, by "mistake" I mean that the first two scoops not only filled the cone but were spilling over the edge. The addition of the third precipitated several streams of melting ice cream which spilled all over my hand as we trotted over the road to sit on the grass. There we could properly appreciate a truly gourmet experience!

One of the reasons we stayed in Sydney over the holidays was that we wanted to see the famous New Year's Eve fireworks. Our original plan was to go to Mrs Macquarie's Point because it gave a view not only of the nearby Opera House but also the Harbour Bridge. The only downside was that we would have to get there before 10am in order to get a decent spot. Including travel, that meant a 15-hour day before the fireworks went off. We were discussing this with a couple from Leicester and they mentioned that they were considering a boat trip.

Over a glass or two of Jack Daniel's Katy and I convinced ourselves that we deserved a treat because of the rubbish weather and because we haven't forked out for anything significant since our Whitsundays trip, which was ages ago. We hit the internet and found a boat we liked which was offering not only an extensive dinner menu (including vegetarian options), but an open bar featuring premium beers, wines and spirits. It would be vulgar to mention the price, but it wasn't cheap; nevertheless, we signed up. Our Leicester acquaintances, meanwhile, decided on our recommendation to go to Mrs Macquarie's.

The boat, the Vagabond Spirit, departed from Circular Quay's east dock at 7pm and we had to be there 30 minutes before. We were there well in advance of that, which was a good idea given the total chaos in the immediate vicinity. Whoever was in charge of crowd control there should be sacked and never allowed to do a similar job again.

Far too many people had been allowed in and there had been no attempt to keep walkways clear. Whole families were just plonking themselves down on picnic rugs on the pavement with no regard for the bottlenecks this caused. Any kind of incident could have deteriorated swiftly into something far more dangerous than it need have. We couldn't get near the actual dock so had to stand for more than an hour hoping we were in the right place as there were no signs. Luckily we were correct and we managed to force our way through the throng to get on board when our boat arrived.

Each guest was allocated a table and we were worried we would get seated with a bunch of boring old farts or non-English speakers. Our fellow-revellers, however, could not have been better had we chosen them. To one side we had an Essex couple called Rich and Fay; to the other, a pair of Aussies called Frederick and Janine. We were all parched after waiting outside in the heat so immediately got well and truly stuck into the free drinks.

As the G&Ts flowed, so did the conversation and the six of us hit it off pretty damn well. For Janine, the trip was one of the things she wanted to do before having children - a sort of "bucket list", but with life rather than death being the spur to action. Frederick introduced us to a new drink - vodka, topped up with lemonade, lime and a dash of angostura bitters. The final ingredient gave the drink a dryness to match his wicked sense of humour. I can't remember how many of those I got through.

Rich - who from some angles looked a little like a butch Julian Clary - was only on a short trip to Australia to visit Faye, who had been here a while working and travelling. Faye admitted to being a bit of an Essex girl in her flouncy little dress and make-up, but had a deeper side as well with her love of the outdoor life and a degree in politics and international relations.

The staff kept bringing round nibbles, which was good given the alcohol which was being consumed. Dinner was extensive and satisfactory, but nothing to write home about. (Though of course, in a sense that is exactly what I am doing.) Katy's mushroom fettucine in particular was nondescript.

The boat, meanwhile, was cruising around the harbour area, trying to avoid the many, many other vessels engaged in similar cruises. These included owners sailing their pride and joy, private and exclusive charters and "party boats" packed to the gunnels with beer can-brandishing youths. Among them all steered the harbour police, controlling the potential mayhem.

Although the main fireworks were naturally timed for midnight, there was an earlier display at 9pm, mainly for children too young to wait till later. We went outside to see them and were suitably impressed considering they were just the hors d'oeuvres.

By late evening, the six of us were congregated on the top deck, taking turns to run down to the bar to get replenishments. As midnight approached, the deck filled up as everyone tried to gain a good view of the pyrotechnics and the bridge in the background. Katy resorted to standing on a chair.

The fireworks were pretty much as promised - spectacular and lengthy. Given that they are watched by millions across the city, the organisers had arranged the display symmetrically around the bridge so as to give everyone a good view. Our only problem was that the boat was a little too far away from the bridge, which was the centre of the action. We wouldn't put anyone off from watching the display from a boat in the future, but would advise people to check the exact position of their vessel when the touchpaper is ignited.

After the fireworks finished, there was another hour or so cruising around and trying to soak up the alcohol with profiteroles and cheese. At some point, Katy managed to rip her trousers just under her left buttock, but she can't remember how she did it. Similarly, she can't remember getting home via Sydney's excellent transport service - they put extra trains on all through the night. Luckily I had retained the use of a couple of brain cells so we returned to Rockdale without mishap and collapsed into our tent.

Richard