I’m not sure why I chose to end my overland travels in Hong Kong, but now I had to fly to Melbourne. The flight was painless and dull, reinforcing my desire to stop flying altogether. Perhaps this means I’m stuck here for a while.

I descended into the thick wintery mist hanging over Melbourne and was greeted by my uncle Alan and his vanishing car. It felt like arriving home at the end of an adventure, like a silent smelly savage returned to civilization, even though I know there’s a whole new hemisphere to explore. I met my gorgeous 17-month-old first cousin once removed (now a professional model) and I was initiated into the world of car racing.

Winter was promised, but I could only snigger and feel superior – no one’s even wearing a coat. There was a little bit of rain, to be fair, but nowhere near enough to justify the cafe signboards advertising central heating and mulled wine.

Melbourne is cool. It’s got a real hipster vibe and an obsession with protein. Industrial warehouses and rather elegant Victorian houses have become coffee shops serving turmeric lattes and tim tam toffee doughnuts, while old pubs with dark green tiles serve craft beers (“as cold as your ex-girlfriend’s heart” – there, that proves the weather – and served in schooners not pints). Monochrome people walk around in long coats, hats and skinny jeans, sipping green smoothies. Vintage clothes shops line streets whose walls are plastered with peeling posters and graffiti.

The names are lovely (Fitzroy, Collingwoood, Sassafras, Ferntree Gully) and have been recycled from other places, which makes them easy to remember, but navigation is a nightmare because they’ve messed up the positioning. Whoever heard of Brighton being just south of Malvern, or Kew being east of the Southbank, or Box Hill north of Notting Hill! At least Croydon seems to be in the right place.

Outside the city, in the wonderfully named Dandenongs, is a rainforest. We drove out, past moulting gum trees dripping with bark, to a little spot for afternoon tea with tablecloths and lorikeets. How nice it is to rediscover quaintness.

The museums and galleries are stylish and superb. I’ve also discovered that most of Hollywood seems to be Australian. There’s a fabulous moving image museum putting this in context, going from the early, rather racy, Hollywood movies to the weirdest Youtube videos and internet memes, and ending in shadow puppetry. So there was loads to do, even for the non-yummy mummy.

People seemed enormously friendly and genuinely interested in you, from the coffee shop waitresses to the museum security guards. Or at least they all beamed and started chatting to me about Brexit and whatnot (they were upset Britain ever joined the EU in the first place). I’ve decided to try and adopt the sunny Aussie disposition, so even though I didn’t see any penguins at St Kildas, it doesn’t matter – I’ll be back!