Postcode 2000

Sydney boys — friend or foe? If you ask a tourist, most of them think ‘foe’. Some nights I tend to agree with them, but in the majority we are pretty nice fellas.
I’ve recently had a spate of young men ask me whether I was born in Sydney, and when I confirm I was, they half-roll their eyes and say something catty.
My first response is to tell them they just acted like they think we are which throws them off their little soapbox. Typically, they are all usually shorter than us Sydney guys.
I get protective of this heaving piece of cement on a harbour.
Once, a visitor who had been here only a few months asked why Sydney had no culture. I tend not to talk in absolutes, so ‘no’ culture is a big one.
We are young country by world standards, but we do have culture. You just have to work a little harder in Sydney to find it — it’s not sitting on St Kilda Rd or on the Champs-Elysées, it’s tucked into a city garden, a side street or a hidden jazz bar.
Sure, some Sydney guys get a little group-oriented and it can be a tough crowd to crack, but a smile, a happy disposition and good humour are usually enough to get you in, in any city.
Just the other night, I was standing talking to some friends and a young English lad was sitting by himself, so I went over and started talking to him.
His first question was about my birthplace, at which he started his tirade. I told him that my coming over to introduce myself was a giveaway that it was he who was carrying the vinegar, not I. He conceded then declared his undying love for Melbourne.
It doesn’t matter whence you came, it’s your attitude today that counts. If you project the sun, you’ll get warmth and brightness back. If you mirror the moon, the coolness of night will be your solace.
Postcode 2000 boys will always be the cheeky, fun-loving guys tucked into a harbour and beach city halfway around the world. I have added two more little men to the equation and I know they have that same spirit.