Because I feel the same

Nothing quite matches the ridiculous tumbling sense of joy I feel on seeing the Sydney Opera House and marching right up those steps. It has that sort of punchtheair excitement of I've made it!

I know it's unwarranted. Let's face it, from England, it's as easy as ABC, stepping in a metal tube, kissing goodbye to the atmosphere, and stepping out again, waving hello to Sydney.

In my defence, I can say I made it hard for myself the first time round. Fifteen years ago, in love with the younger, unmarried-to-me Dig, we slowly crawled here from England through India and China. Reaching one of the world's most recognisable, most beautiful buildings, still alive, still in love, I had a real sense of achievement.

Fifteen years a lot's changed. This time I have brought a married-to-me Dig. Two mothers dead and no telephone home this time to say Hi! Guess where we are! And kids in tow, three at once to please. Nearly half way round the world with them, and we're still alive, still married. There's an achievement too.

It's enough to set us all photographing each other. And we do, and me and Dig hold hands, and Shark captures the moment. And all I know is, some feelings don't change.