The Responsible Selling of Alcohol course was actually quite amusing. There's really not much to learn, but the NSW government has stipulated that the course must last seven hours, so our trainer filled in a lot of the time with anecdotes. Among the more scary stories he told us was the fact - and it is a fact, not made up - that for all of NSW's 12,000 licenced premises there are only 21 health inspectors. Which puts a bit of a cloud over Sydney's reputation as a mecca for good food, and goes some way to explaining why no-one says much when a cockroach scuttles across the floor of the bar or café you're sitting in.

There were about 30 people doing the course, but I only really got talking to one of them, a guy called Owen who's done years of barwork in the UK but has to do the same training as the rest of us, otherwise he won't get work in NSW. After the course we went for a few beers in Darling Harbour, which turned into a few more beers when it started pissing down with rain. Eventually the heavens cleared and we went our separate ways.

I got back to Glebe and feasted on a particularly delicious bowl of Singapore laksa. Then, as I wandered slowly back up the hill towards the YHA, it started tipping it down again. I huddled in a doorway to wait for a break in the downpour. Presently another guy came past and took refuge in the same spot. We got chatting and decided to keep our heads dry by going into the pub over the road and having a beer. The guy's name is Peter and he's an astronomer of some renown in the field of infrared imaging. A couple of beers later, the weather had cleared and we said our farewells.

I spent Friday morning getting my head round the thought of that afternoon's meeting with my first proper recruitment consultant. I decided to dress reasonably smartly (and not in Speedos, as I had suggested to her on the phone yesterday, somewhat the worse for wear a few beers into my conversation with Owen!) to make a reasonably good impression.

I caught a bus into town, to avoid looking utterly sweaty (it was a hot and humid day, again), then made my way to the offices of Gemell Ovenden Walsh, recruitment agency for the financial sector. It felt strange to be back in a shiny metal-and-glass confection of a tower block for a work meeting. But then I just told myself, Hester stylee, to "get over it" and I soon felt better.

Alison was very kind about my CV, but said that it was unlikely I would find temporary work of the calibre I was clearly capable of (what a nice lady!). I explained that this was: a) expected; and b) fine by me. I'm not looking at relaunching a career here, I just want some spending money. She told me to keep in touch. We'll see whether anything comes of it.

I decided on a quick dose of culture before heading back to the YHA to get changed. The Art Gallery of New South Wales was only a five-minute walk away. They've got some great stuff but also a lot of dross. That's the way it goes, I guess. In keeping with the Health & Safety theme of the day before, one of the artworks was a huge video screen of vastly magnified cockroaches, entitled Struggle for Space.

Who should I meet on Glebe Point Road that evening, as I stepped out to find some dinner, but Peter the astronomer! He kindly offered to cook dinner, so we went back to his flat nearby. There we found his housemate Sarah, who had started preparing a risotto. She went out for a bike ride, so we took over the cooking and amplified the risotto into a monster of a dish which actually tasted rather good. It might have had something to do with the litre of red wine that went into it! That and several dozen other ingredients, prime among them garlic and mushrooms. To finish, we had some tasty cheeses and tasty bread while enjoying the wonderful panoramic view of Sydney's downtown that is afforded by many of Glebe's balconies but sadly none of its restaurants. It was a delightful evening, and I hope to repeat it in the future.

The weekend was how a real weekend should be: I did naff all, ably assisted in this enterprise by Julian & Fleur and the kids. After a brief visit to the local supermarket we got home and I started cooking. Lunch was tortilla española (that's the Spanish potato omelette that I'll have cooked for at least some of you at some point) which I did in a Basque style, ie slathered with mayonnaise and a tin of tuna. Yum! As soon as lunch finished I made a start on cooking dinner, which was gulasch (that's the Austrian beef paprika stew that, again, I'll have cooked for at least some of you at some point). As the secret's in the length of time you cook it, by starting after lunch it was just about ready by the evening. Happily, everyone liked it, and the crispy cabbage salad I did with it. Hurrah!

Sunday was slightly more active, in that we drove to Manly to visit the aquarium and have a snack by the beach - which was heaving with people! The surf looked very inviting, and the stiff breeze made the hot sun much more bearable. Natasha was most amusing the way she was all excited by the waves that crashed against the sand and simultaneously frightened of the water. Needless to say, she got a huge wave all over her when she least expected it! But she coped remarkably well with the surprise.

In the afternoon we returned to Lane Cove and Julian prepared us eggs benedict. Through a process of experimentation, he has discovered that the best poached eggs are done in the microwave. They indeed tasted good, as did his homemade hollandaise sauce. We had a relaxed afternoon and evening, playing with the kids, chatting, watching a bit of telly (this crazy American programme called Carnivale that's a bit like Twin Peaks set in a circus).

Monday was the day I decided I had to leave the wonderful hospitality of Julian & Fleur's house. I was simply having too nice a time of it, and I wasn't getting my head around the prospect of finding work and all that jazz. So I booked into the YHA in Glebe, a nice just-out-of-the-centre suburb with lots of cafes and a bit of a village feel, had some last hours of playtime with Natasha and talktime with Fleur, and then caught the bus into town.

Once at the YHA I picked up a free copy of TNT magazine, a publication chock-full of useful info for travellers looking for work. Almost before putting my bags down, I had already booked myself onto a course to become a cerfified Responsible Seller of Alcohol (it's a stipulation of barwork here in New South Wales). Exhausted by this superhuman effort of jobsearching, I went and found a delightful little sushi bar, had dinner, read some book, and collapsed into bed.

Tuesday and Wednesday were both active work-related days too. I managed to open an Aussie bank account, get registered with the Aussie health service, send my CV off to six recruitment agencies, have an initial meeting with one of them which went reasonably well, AND walk around the centre of town getting a feel for the place and enjoying it all.

There was even a bit of doughnut-related excitement on Wednesday (apologies Jenny if you recognise what's coming up, but after I wrote to tell you about my day I decided the story was worth sharing); the more eidetic-memory-endowed among you will recall that when I was in Montreal, apart from the bagels the most momentous food event was the Californian Krispy Kreme doughnuts:

Today I entered Krispy Kreme heaven! I found a Krispy Kreme shop here in Sydney and tried to be strong and just walk past, but then changed my mind, did an about-turn and walked in. There were Krispy Kremes EVERYWHERE! They were baking and glazing them there & then in the shop, right in front of us!

The spotty youth in front of me in the queue (a bit of a lardbucket, truth be told - now there's a warning to me) asked for a Klassik Krispy Kreme (or whatever they're known as) and was given one from the glass display kabinet that served as the shop kounter.

Then a mirakle happened: when I asked for a Klassik Krispy Kreme, the girl behind the kounter, with a sly smile, wanted to know if I fancied a hot one. Straight from the konveyor belt, where I kould see a kurtain of alabaster white Krispy Kreme icing karessing the doughnuts as they were konveyed beneath it!

Of kourse I said yes. The girl walked over to the konveyor and, using a special "I'm going to interrupt the smooth progress of Krispy Kremes to make a valued kustomer's day" tool to extrikate the doughnut, she slipped it smartly into a
paper bag and proferred me the package with her winning smile. All this pleasure for just AUD 1.80! What a day.

So, returning to reality, I have spent a good few hours just walking around between parts of town, gazing at the waters of the Harbour (where today I swear I saw a family of pufferfish just hanging about at the water's edge!) or into shop windows or along shady side streets, adjusting to being in one place for over a week.

Glebe has provided gastronomic and spiritual sustenance: I've eaten sushi (as mentioned), ciabatta toast, teriyaki noodles, Malaysian curry, the best Pho I've eaten since I was in Vietnam, and yummy Danish pastries (well they were free; the girl in the coffee shop was giving them away to those of us who were still there at closing time); and I've been reading Simon Schama's "A History of Britain" - which is an outstandingly addictive page-turner - and I've seen "Exils", a French film about a young Parisian couple of Algerian ancestry who go to Algeria and are faced with some unexpected truths about themselves. Believe me, it was better than I've made it sound.

Tomorrow is the day of my course on selling alcohol. I wonder if there are any tastings...