Today was my first proper day in Melbourne and like all Brits, I felt as if I had endured a year long winter and was giddy at the thought of getting out in the 28 degree heat and exposing my pasty flesh to the good people of the city.

We began with a visit to the 19th century Queen Victoria Market teeming with hawkers selling authentic Australian produce from boomerangs to kangaroo skin rugs, the air permeated by the clean, earthy scent of flowers and Australian-grown fruit and veg.

Particular highlights included stopping for blood orange juice and cake in the sun, and browsing the stalls only to find myself on the receiving end of a monologue from an enthusiastic Chinese man on why I should buy one of his theft-proof bags that included wild slashing and stabbing motions to illustrate every possible way someone could cut me or steal my bag.

The afternoon was really hot so we meandered along the bank of the River Yarra and as it was so clear we decided to brave the Eureka Skydeck to look out across the city. I think the pictures really speak for themselves but it was amazing to see the whole city and beyond, particularly as we could now spot landmarks that we had passed.

Once back at the apartment, I left my Aunty in peace as I headed off for a swim in the pool. Dressed only in my swimming costume, a towel and with my feet half in my trainers, I hobbled into the lift only to be told by a bemused businessman, who probably took me for an amphibious ‘woman of the night’ lurking for customers, that I was in the wrong one. I shuffled out, awkwardly exposed and keen to get up to the pool as soon as possible- but was horrified to find that the lift kept cancelling my stop- something I only realised after I had accompanied all my fellow passengers to theirs like a demented lycra-clad valet (my plummy Home Counties voice only heightening the unsettling likeness to Batman’s butler Alfred). To my despair I realised I becoming Shoesan level weird* and tried to remedy this faux pas by trying to look nonchalant and making Dad jokes along the lines of getting both ‘the wrong floor and continent hyuck hyuck’ . Simultaneously disappointed and impressed by the fact someone actually laughed at this, I continued to go up and down like a scantily clad yoyo until a kind lady pointed out was due to me not scanning my key fob.

I now hope to avoid all parties present at the time, if you don’t hear from me, please assume that I’m stuck in the lift or answering to complaints of streetwalking.

* I can confirm that neither I or nor even Shoesan (who has not returned thus far) can lay claim to the honour of being the Weirdest Person in Melbourne as we stumbled across a man dressed as the Cookie Monster playing the bagpipes.