As a wide-eyed sixteen year old about to start college, my life and future were thrown into turmoil by the un-characteristic actions of my normally safe thinking father, who had suddenly become hell-bent on dragging his family to the other side of the world – Australia, a land of constant sunshine, seemingly endless horizons, tanned nubile females, crystal white sands and rolling surf, a land where anything and everything seemed possible, a place that was to change my outlook on life for ever.

 Having settled into my new life with great relish, and fast approaching the end of our third year in Oz, my mother finally insisted the family return to the U.K. (much to my father’s consternation).  What I, nor anybody else could have foreseen, was the length of time that was to pass before my wish to return became a reality.

 All of life’s events had in a strange way led me full circle to this eventuality, and on a bright summer’s morning, I stood alone looking out across the glorious blue waters of Sydney Harbour.  

 The sun was still as bright, the sky as blue, and the shimmering heat haze as hypnotic as ever. Like beta particles, a thousand memories flooded my jet-lagged brain as I drank in the spectacle of this watery idyll - I was back in Oz and even I could hardly believe it, so with my notebook in hand, a spring in my step, and a smile as wide as the Harbour Bridge -  I set off to re-discover OZ.