Everything's so wizard in Oz

There's no place like Sydney, finds Virginia Blackburn

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Throwing a couple of sunglasses into my suitcases, along with hats, shorts and some very, very heavy-duty sun cream, I sang: "I'm off to see the Wizard - the Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

At which point my husband asked: "Darling, why are you packing to watch a film on television? And it's not going to be on for ages. Christmas is months away." Very funny. "Not that Oz," I replied. "I'm going to be Australia's own Dorothy. Throw another shrimp on the barbie because Sydney, here I come."

I've always wanted to see Australia, not least to check out if koala bears really exist. And so, in lieu of a house swept up in a tornado, a la the original Dorothy, I opted for a rather more comfortable means of getting there via a Qantas double-decker.

It's 22 hours flying time from London to Sydney, possums, so if you can I'd recommend breaking it up with Singapore or Hong Kong.

But I was extremely keen to get there, so I did it in one go, with the result that when I got off the plane, the combination of the sheer beauty of the place and jet lag really did make me feel as if I'd woken up in an alternative reality. And I'd landed the furthest I'd ever been from home.

First impressions: I absolutely loved it. Sydney is so green it could easily be the Emerald City, while it was far more sophisticated and cosmopolitan than I'd been expecting (Dame Edna would have a lot to answer for and yes, I know she was from Melbourne.) And the Australian sense of humour is dry and laconic, very similar to ours.

The city is beautiful and the spectacular Sydney Opera House is worth those 22 flying hours alone. In pictures it looks as if it's slightly separate from the main body of the city, but actually it's right at the heart of everything.