And at sunset, from that vantage point, the sails of the Opera House lit up and the silhouette of the bridge etched against a backdrop of watercolour hues, it was breathtaking.

“This is my favourite view in Sydney,” said my date.

It had just become my favourite view too, but I tore my eyes away from the sunset. “So, you’ve been to Aria before then?”

“I come whenever I’m in Sydney, yes. Matt is an old friend.” He meant Matt Moran, the chef and owner, and I geeked out a little. Matt Moran! Maybe I’d get to meet him. Then I remembered our lunch in London at The Summerhouse and Paulie the chef. “James, do you only go to restaurants where you know the chef?” I teased.

“Always,” he deadpanned, then smiled. “Actually, I only go to restaurants where the food is exceptional and it feels like home. When you travel as much as I do, feeling like you’re at home is important. It can get very lonely.” I know just what you mean.

He dropped his eyes and I saw the furrow between his brows deepen for a moment. The frown was gone almost as soon as it had arrived, and he pulled his mouth into a faux smile and met my eyes. I laid my hand on his and squeezed it.

The moment evaporated when we were interrupted to hear the specials. Then we looked over our menus and I decided to start with the mud crab, one of the specials, followed by the John Dory for an all-seafood meal. James ordered a bottle of wine without looking at the list and without waiting for the sommelier. The waiter nodded his head subtly and left us to our conversation.

“I completely understand the need to find that sense of home when you’re travelling,” I said. He tipped his head to the side and encouraged, I continued. “When I ran tours, I would always unpack a few things, even if we were only there for a night—just to create a sense of ‘home’.

“The site crew were important, too. They’d welcome us like we were family, even if we were meeting for the first time. Sometimes it was a little forced, the whole ‘we’re a family’ thing, but I did have genuine friends on the circuit. I’d often get a nice surprise when I arrived somewhere and found out who was on site.”

He looked baffled. “The company didn’t track that kind of information online?”

I laughed. “Uh, no. The company still operated like it did in the 90s. There was no central database or dashboard to log in to, so there was no way of knowing how our tours would criss-cross or parallel with other tours. Archaic, really.”

“And you toured for how long? I don’t think you’ve said.”

“I just did it for a couple of seasons, although they were quite long—from February to November.”

“Why only two?”

“I missed having a real home.” He nodded, his lips pulled into a tight, smile—a commiseration from a fellow traveller, I figured. “I loved the actual travel,” I added, “but the job was hellishly lonely sometimes, like what you said earlier.