Sydney Monopoly (dedicated to Joseph Greenwood)

Year after year I promise my nephew that we will play 'live' Monopoly in London. This summer, having finally worked out how to make it into a game, we were simply waiting for the school holidays to start before setting a date. However, after Thursday 7th July, the prospect of running around London on various forms of public transport with three children rather palled so, once again, we postponed it, perhaps forever. I was saddened by this, saddened that a promise made had not been realised, saddened that, London-lover that I am, I was wary of its most basic infrastructure, saddened that, finally, I had started to change my life because of events beyond my, or anyone's control. Today, on the other side of the world, I found an alternative location for our game, though perhaps not the most practical.

I caught a bus from Hyde Park along Oxford Street then walked around Paddington, a beautiful area filled with trees and Victorian properties, which, depending on your origins are either terraces or rowhouses. From Windsor Lane I walked to Norfolk Street and Suffolk Lane (side by side of course), via Cascade Street (so named because a cascade of water was dammed to build it). I then managed to miss Cambridge Street entirely, probably because I was heading for Liverpool Street and, in this country, one is not linked to the other. From Liverpool Street I turned right into Victoria Street, on my way to Kings Cross station. As a writer I am frustrated by the lack of Roads, since it results in such repetition but, for some reason, the good burghers of Victorian Sydney obviously thought that St was less infra dig, or more appropriate than Rd. I wonder why.

The terraced houses are also very familiar. Iron filigree balconies upstairs remind me of Charleston, South Carolina whereas the downstairs railings separating patio from pavement suggest Hampstead. But, once again, the width of the streets, the immensity of the trees and the silence despite the proximity to a major thoroughfare seem purely Sydney. The names may have come from England but there the resemblance ends. Of course, at least one exception always manages to prove the rule. Kings Cross station, confusingly situated on Victoria Street, is surrounded by the sort of bars, 'live shows' and seedy nightlife that makes its English namesake so unattractive, except to developers. It almost made me homesick for Euston Road. I said almost...