I arrived here with nothing but a backpack, and although I’ve picked up a travel companion, there’s a nice symmetry in that’s how I’ll be leaving. This might give the impression that I’ve left no impression, but I don’t think that’s the case. A pessimist might say five years for no net gain is a wasted half-decade, but they would be incorrect. Things don’t have to be tangible to be valuable. (And I did end up with a lovely set of photographic canvases.)

If there is a lingering feeling of incompleteness, it is probably due to two things. Firstly, leaving without travelling through the Red Centre is an oversight that I should have corrected early on, and not even the fact that many Australians have never been there is adequate consolation. Just too far to be a quick break away, it was always on my list to do next and never seemed to happen.

Secondly, I should have written about my experiences here more. Upon arrival to Australia, I distinctly remember feeling that it was “just like home”, but in retrospect that was probably just a reaction to arriving in a Western culture after the enormous and daily differences of Japan. I very much like to absorb the culture of places that I live, and if I’d only stayed 6 months like I’d originally intended, I might have left thinking that Australia was like England, plus or minus a kangaroo and ozone layer. I’m glad I was able to spend the time to disabuse myself of that notion.

Unlike Japan, I’ve found most of the typical Australian stereotypes surprisingly accurate. Though they don’t throw shrimp on them, Australians really do have an obscene number of BBQs a year. They really do drink a lot of ice-cold beer. The parliament really does sound a lot like The Simpsons characterisation. The birds here really do sound like the ones on Neighbours. People really do say “fair go” and really mean it. They say “no worries” and they live it. They even occasionally say “fair dinkum”.

If the national British qualities are stoicism, grumbling and a slight inclination to see the negative in situations, then the quality that most seems to embody Australia is “mateship”. This concept, not even a word in England, is one that Australians are rightly proud of, and speaks to people just “being a decent bloke” and “helping your mates out”. Whilst it exists in other countries, it is part of the national identity here, esteemed in adverts, referred to by politicians and generally understood and implicitly carried out by the general populace.

You couldn’t ask for a better example than after the recent Brisbane floods. With little fanfare and very little in the way of organisation, people turned out in their thousands to repair complete strangers’ houses, without compensation, in the sweltering heat and for no reason other than that it was the right thing to do. This wasn’t even for neighbours – some people drove hours North to find people they could help. Once formal volunteer lines were set up, they were turning people away after getting more than 30,000 respondents in the first day. Maybe I’m a cynic (well, I am), but I couldn’t see that happening back home.

While the recent spate of natural disasters might appear to put the lie to the “Lucky Country” moniker, there is no doubt that for the vast majority of people life here is, and will continue to remain, great. An abundance of natural resources, a young population, lots of room to grow, friendly people and a geographic isolation that separates it from many of the world’s major conflicts all contribute to a bright future for Australia. I can see why lots of people never leave.

I will though. In 12 hours.

To get an idea of its size, it’s worth measuring it in terms of countries. Measuring around 500km in diameter, Cyclone Yasi would pretty much cover Great Britain outright, which is only 630km long and 400km wide at its longest and widest.

The sheer size of Queensland means that despite the cyclone being on course to make landfall directly over Cairns, Brisbane 1680km to the south is unlikely to have any problems. (This yet again reminds me of just how big Australia is, or just how small England is.) Still, it is telling that we could still see some effects here even this far away.

Again, kudos must be given to Queensland’s Premier Anna Bligh, the emergency services, the combined armed forces and the police, as so far it appears that the evacuations have proceeded without incident. After an excellent performance through the Queensland flooding, it appears that this new crisis will be managed effectively as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if both Anna Bligh and Campbell Newman were re-elected convincingly off the back of this.

This is a different kind of flood to those in Toowoomba. Whilst they were flash floods, caused by super storms dropping hundreds of millimeters of rain in a matter of hours, this is a more subtle, deceptive approach. Like the T-2000, which walks because it has no need to run, the impending deluge will get here in its own sweet time. The opening of the Wivenhoe floodgates necessitated by its 190% fill, combined with the winter King Tide and a river swollen with weeks of rain ensure the inevitable. A regular Perfect Storm, it is being said. Blue skies over much of Brisbane today belied the fact that tomorrow, water levels will reach their highest points in nearly 40 years, and may go higher. And there is nothing to do but wait for it. Not so much the calm before the storm, but in the eye of it. With the severest weather apparently over, there is only the aftermath to come. This may be the hardest thing to reconcile; that there can be such a delay from the event to the impact.

The supermarkets looked post-apocalyptic yesterday, with scenes typically assumed more appropriate for Soviet Russia, as people queued for bread and other staples. The irony of having to purchase bottled water was lost on no-one, but concerns about the continued functioning of the water treatment plant meant people were leaving nothing to chance. There were no queues today, with the cupboards already bare, but for some canned goods, and a single solitary pineapple.

With valuables safely stowed and sandbags in place, people stepped out, curious and keen to survey the newly-aquatic scenery. Brisbane is a river city, not a beach city, and it is to here that people are drawn. Amazement as ferry terminals and river restaurants slip their moorings and are deliberately sunk, to prevent them turning into tremendous torpedos.

Wandering around near Milton station, people appeared dazed and confused, with the same shocked expression resonating on every face as the scale of the sprawl became apparent. Unlike Atlantis, which conjures visions of grandeur, we are instead treated to the mundane made novel. Submerged street signs, an inundated McDonalds and debris floating lazily down new rivers contribute to the disbelief. The commonplace becoming surreal, as water is juxtaposed with traffic lights and KFC. No glorious Venice this, no grand cathedrals or Bridge of Sighs, though many sighed as all but one of the bridges closed.

No fear though, not here. Unlike our colleagues in the North, we at least have had the warning and time to make preparations. Excitement is the wrong word. That is too glib for the tragedy that has ruined and will ruin so much. Anticipation perhaps. A sense in the air. Not quite foreboding, but the biding of time. Deserted city streets, as people heed the warning to leave their cars at home. No public transport, no hum of industry. Quiet and somewhat menacing.

An hour ago, the rains returned briefly. The power is out in much of the town. There is the smell of salt in the air. And the water continues its inexorable ascent.

Sign the petition and have your say. For my part, I submitted this:

The solution is simple. In a cinema, if an under-age person tries to watch a movie, they are prevented from doing so by the cinema staff. Presumably cinemas are punished if they don’t adhere to these rules. Likewise in licensed premises, and so it should be for videogame stores.

Classification labels are clear and obvious. If a parent makes a decision to purchase a game out of classification based on their knowledge of their own child, that is their own choice. If an adult is ill-informed enough to purchase an R18 game for a child for whom it isn’t suitable, the government can hardly be expected to prevent that. Personal responsibility has to start somewhere.

The Videogames industry is a mature industry with a diverse range of titles targeting a variety of age groups. It now generates more revenue than the film industry and deserves to be taken seriously.

Finally, for those who wish to get their hands on restricted games, it could hardly be easier. Their are a myriad of international sellers only too happy to import those games, making a mockery of the current regulations, and denying revenue to Australian merchants.

Hopefully, with enough voices, the government of the people can be persuaded to act.

I spent the day at a colleague’s house with a couple of guys from work, eating, drinking and making merry, although it wasn’t without its own share of strangeness. At around lunchtime, an old woman, who I’ll call Dora, wandered into the front garden and asked us for help. I couldn’t get the exact story, (in fact, I’m fairly certain there isn’t an exact story), but the gist of it went something like “Hello, could you call the police? I’m being held hostage by people in my own apartment. They tell me I’m schizophrenic, but I’m very gentle. I’m not sure how I got here, I live a couple of suburbs away. I’m on some kind of medication, so I’m very passive, so don’t worry.”

She was clearly disturbed and I felt quite sorry for her, so we got her a chair and a glass of water, called the police and then spent the next 25 minutes trying to get her to stay put until they arrived. During this time, she’d stand up every couple of minutes and say she couldn’t see them yet and could we call them again, getting more and more excited as time went on.

Matters were complicated further when another passerby noticed my England shirt and started chatting to me about Rugby (the place, not the sport). I was up on a balcony, he was on the pavement and Aussies don’t really understand me at the best of times, so you could imagine how smoothly that conversation went. So I’m having a pretty weird, frequently repeated conversation about how this guy’s mother used to live in Rugby and did I know anyone there, at the same time as trying to keep this disturbed old lady calm, and all the while English wickets are falling like pins to the loud delight of my Aussie colleagues.

Then Dora asked the guy if he could call the police because she was being held hostage, at which point I had to rapidly explain that she wasn’t being held hostage by us and that the police were already on the way. Rapidly explaining anything in this country doesn’t seem to work for me, so I repeated that a couple of times, with an urgency that probably made me look like exactly the kind of person that would kidnap a little old woman. When he finally understood, he gave this nervous little laugh, told us good luck and left faster than William Webb-Ellis corrupted the game of football.

When the police did arrive and one of the officers took down the details in her notebook, we were able to see the other incidents she’d attended today – Assault, Assault, Domestic Violence, Assault. It seems that alcohol = violence is a sadly universal truth, no matter where you are in the world. They took Dora for a little walk, returning after some time carrying an extra bag of belongings. I’m not sure where they took her next, but I hope she’s doing ok.

With that excitement over, I was keen to return to the cricket, only to find that the intended Day-Night game had been emphatically resolved while the sun still shone. Instead, we broke out the Nintendo Wii and had 4 player tennis, followed by boxing. Wii is perhaps the first console where it’s more fun to watch the players than it is to watch the screen. If I hadn’t just gone to New Zealand, I’d be buying one next week.

The BBQ, by the way, was awesome, with a veritable mountain of meat, comprising chicken, sausages and of course, lamb. When it was all over, I had that Christmas afternoon feeling where your belt is suddenly two notches too tight and you have the overwhelming feeling to fall asleep on the couch. All that was missing was a Christmas film, or at the very least, Crocodile Dundee…

Then again, both the Kiwis and the Aussies have already done away with 1c and 2c coins, and the Kiwis have just started the process of withdrawing 5c coins from circulation – In England we still have 1p and 2p pieces and notes that get destroyed in the wash!

After not very long, it all got a bit too much, so we headed a bit further up the coast to a little place called Long Reef. Sure, the water wasn’t quite as blue, and the sand not quite as white, but there were kite surfers by the dozens, people by the few and rockpools filled with little creatures by the millions. (Though sadly, not rockpools filled with Little Creatures). Even so, the hours I spent there were much more pleasant than the minutes at Manly. Now I just have to pack for tomorrow!

Well the adverts were right, Broome does have a fantastic beach and sunsets. Cable Beach is huge, white and sandy, with a curving bay and next to nobody on the shore. Watching the camels walking along the beach silhouetted against the setting sun is a great experience and would be a very romantic one if you were here with the right person. Last night I saw newlyweds having photos taken just as the sky was changing colour and the evening before that there was a group having a full silver service dinner down by the water, complete with a waiter in black tie. For most people, including me, sitting on a rock watching the pearl luggers drift across the bay as dusk sets in is more than enough, with some great photo opportunities. I even managed to get some of the rare brown, lesser-spotted Jamie.

Cable Beach Backpackers is all it promised to be, with a really laid-back atmosphere and staff who are keen to help out. I’m glad I’m not staying at The Last Resort, as from what I’ve heard from people who are there, its name is pretty fitting. I’m only a 5 minute walk from the beach and there are free bus runs into town to buy groceries. Sitting around the pool, playing pool and chatting with other travellers is nice, but I’m starting to get itchy feet to go and actually do something. The upside is that finally I can catch up with all the stuff I’ve been meaning to write about.

In Broome itself, there really isn’t that much to do. It’s great as a stop-off point on a West Coast trip, but talk to lots of people here and they’re a little bored. There are a few places to go out at night and certainly lots of cool people to hang out with, but in the day you’re limited to the beach or one of the expensive tours into the Kimberley. The town is great as a base from which to go into the Outback, but the guided tours run to thousands of dollars which I just can’t justify for such a short amount of time. Having your own car would be different, but the inherent risks of driving in the wilderness mean you have to be very well prepared and you definitely can’t travel alone. Making sure your car is ready for the harsh journey ends up being almost as expensive as doing a tour anyway. All of which is moot anyway, seeing as I can’t drive.

So, one way or another it looks like I’ll be leaving on Tuesday. I was hoping to find a rideshare back down to Perth, but again the cost is prohibitive, so I’ll probably fly. If I was only staying on the West Coast, or had the guarantee of a job somewhere, I’d be happier to do it, but I still want to go across to the East and meet up with people there, so I have to make a few sacrifices. As a compromise, I’m going on a short tour to Windjama Gorge and Tunnel Creek on Monday, so I can see at least some of what the North West has to offer. It’s not even scratching the surface of this vast area, but coast to coast flights are really cheap here now, so there’s still a chance I could find my way back here with a bit more money some other time. When I fly back down to Perth, I’ll head down to Fremantle and Rottnest Island, which I did somehow manage to miss out despite being in Perth for more than three weeks. Then, pretty soon after that, I’ll make my way across to Melbourne.

I’ll be staying at the Cable Beach Backpackers which is reputed to have a relaxed, friendly atmosphere and I’ll be staying for at least a week, after which time I’ll decide what to do next.