Diary – 16 December 2006

Last week, after years of the best possible intentions, I finally managed to make my virgin visit down under to sunny Sydney. With Elton fully ensconced in a fortnight of antipodean touring and work to be done promoting our new teen comedy It’s a Boy Girl Thing, I was able to justify the trip while hoping to overcome the abject terror of having to spend nearly 24 hours trapped on a plane. So many of my globetrotting mates have been slobbering on for ages about the genius of Singapore Airlines. Justifiably so, as I find myself awash with joy at being cocooned within the hedonistic splendour of their first-class cabin. My most challenging decision is between Dom Pérignon and Krug. Hordes of Asian beauties fluff your pillows, and they even swab out the loos after every use. It’s the kind of service that reminds you of British Airways in the Eighties, long before it slid into the has-been it is today. By the time we touch down I am supinely happy. I find Sydney to be a magical place. Our hotel suite directly overlooks the iconic Opera House. Whoever commissioned the building of Sydney’s most famous landmark should be canonised. It anchors the entire city brilliantly. Why couldn’t we create a more enduring cultural or humanitarian edifice as a testament to British society’s advancement? My heart sinks when I think of the millions squandered over the construction of London’s dumpy Millennium Dome.

After a day’s recuperation from jet-lag I hit the streets. Auditions for the Aussie production of Billy Elliot The Musical are being held and I’m anxious to see how the local talent measures up. For two days I tramp up and down the streets en route to the theatre.