Sydney Harbour Bridge

Some readers may have spotted that the iconic symbol of Sydney recently hosted a picnic on especially brought in turf to celebrate a city-wide food festival. Unfortunately we were not some of the selected 6,000 to enjoy the fresh fruit, live music and ogle the small herd of cows.

But we were lucky when a few years ago it celebrated its 75th birthday. Ho hum, you may yawn but my family and a resident backpacker felt very privileged to take up the challenge and walk across, free from traffic and trains.

‘You’re not even Australian,’ my work colleagues proclaimed, ‘why would you want to be in that crush?’

‘You’ll be a perfect target for terrorists’, said another.
Yes the wave of fear has crested in Oz too. Well we survived as did the 250,000 others who turned out on the lovely Autumn morning of March 18th. Families from every part of Sydney, indeed from all parts of Australia whose origins seemed very diverse walked across. The overall impression was one of order, of civilised behaviour, a unity of purpose.

Some took the opportunity to demonstrate quirky behaviour. For instance there were the three couples who took time out to play a hand of bridge in the middle. Others dressed up. There was a Father Neptune, a brightly dressed young lady with metallic streamers, two silver painted and clothed young men holding high a wonderful sculpture of the bridge.

The rest of us became a living sculpture in our yellow caps. We looked like so many ducks bobbing on the stream of a charity race, an endless ribbon of yellow turning to streamers of light in the evening thanks to the small LEDs on each hat.

There was something strange about walking the bridge, looking down at the harbour beneath a grating, looking up to see helicopters pictured in blue framed by gunmetal grey struts and girders and waving at those fortuitous enough to be walking up over the top.

Next year I want to be chosen to breakfast as this might become an annual event.