Blogging about an action-packed schedule is one thing - I mean, it more or less writes itself - but blogging about doing pretty much nothing; well, that's practically an art form. Sadly it appears to be an art form I have yet to master.

17th January

Mike takes the concept of Sunday as a day of rest literally (he embraces Christianity selectively), so it's coming on for lunchtime by the time we're out and about. First port of call is - you guessed it - the Rocks market! If future generations have to one day reconstruct Sydney based solely on this blog, they'll conclude that the city consisted entirely of the Rocks, which hosted a never-ending market. Sadly our attempts at buying souvenirs prove spectacularly unsuccessful, so we wander homewards via the Opera House, which we duck inside to take a look at the parts open to non-ticket-buying scum such as ourselves. It's eerily empty and unexpectedly futuristic, though maybe we shouldn't have been surprised given that the outside looks like a cross between a space ship and Sonic the Hedgehog.

A sample corridor - this one leads to a lift without a ceiling, which makes for a slightly disorientating ride. Should you happen to jump up above the level of the walls, an alarm goes off. Don't ask how we know this.

18th January

I have a confession to make: when I found out we were going to Sydney, my first excited thought wasn't of the Opera House, or Harbour Bridge, or even of Bondi Beach. Nope, it was - verbatim - "oohh ooh ooohh, we can go to bills!". Bill Granger, in case you haven't heard of him, is Australia's foremost celebrity cook, and his eponymous cafés are a Sydney institution. They've exerted a fascination for me ever since I bought his first book, Sydney Food, which exudes a sense of airiness and ease of living - the feeling of being in a city where you can leisurely stroll to the fish market to pick up some dazzlingly fresh clams in the morning, duck back into the urban bustle to grab a quick lunch, then spend the afternoon unhurriedly putting together dishes for a relaxed meal with friends in the evening sun. (My interpretation of Sydney Food is untarnished by inconvenient things like jobs, no matter what Bill may write about "after work nibbles".) Every now and then Mike and I draw up lists of what we still want to get done in Sydney, and while his include things like "visit zoo" and "climb bridge", mine basically consist of restaurant names. (Let's not think too hard about what this says about me as a person.) I'd already persuaded him that Billy Kwong, Marigold Citymark, Chat Thai, Sushi Tei and Sydney Madang were essential cultural experiences (don't worry, we're saving money in other areas - Mike hasn't been to any museums), and today bills finally got its turn. Well...I may have dropped in last week for a particularly delicious soy cappuccino - have I ever mentioned that Sydneysiders do coffee so much better than we do? - but that was entirely necessary preliminary research. Anyway. We went to the original branch, which despite having a fairly unprepossessing external appearance opens up, Tardis-like, once you're inside, and feasted on toasted coconut bread and sweetcorn fritters, the recipes for both of which are, as it happens, in Sydney Food. I'd actually made the fritters before, but mine weren't nearly as nice - I think I probably committed an unpardonable sin by using frozen sweetcorn.

...and when I start writing about sweetcorn you know I'm really scraping the barrel. I wonder if Stephen Fry ever twitters about vegetables?

In the afternoon, Mike claims he has to work, which I suspect is an elaborate avoidance tactic to get out of coming shopping. After trudging around town for three and a half hours I discover that a) the majority of quirky boutique shops appear to be shut on Mondays (a subject on which the guidebook was mysteriously silent), and b) the few that are open sell stuff you can buy in Paperchase. For the first time I develop an opinion on the global marketplace.

Things look up in the evening though, when we (Mike having been lured out by the prospect of food) wander into Kinokuniya, a book shop in one of our local shopping centres. The website may look like the online store of a potentially dodgy eBay seller, but don't let that put you off - Kinokuniya's fantastic. Shelf upon shelf of travel guides, reams of cookbooks (an entire bookcase and a half is dedicated to cakes), and what looks to be a truly fabulous visual arts section, if you're that way inclined (I'm quite taken with the wall of dress-up paper dolls, myself). Unfortunately it was already coming up to closing time when we arrived - my wallet breathed an audible sigh of relief. Little does it know that I'm planning to go back tomorrow...