One of the joys of travelling to outposts of the Anglosphere is that it’s often much more British than Britain. Sydney — despite trying all too successfully to look like Shanghai — is still haunted by the ghost of a great English Edwardian city. Locals are baffled (and perhaps irritated) as I stop to gaze in loving wonder at the Town Hall, a perfect expression of civic pride which ought to be surrounded by trams and full of portly aldermen.