The Bank of England's consideration of polymer banknotes is an acknowledgement of the superiority of our characterful currency

It will come as little surprise to Australians that Britain may follow our lead when it comes to banknotes, and is considering switching from cotton paper to plastic polymer.

One of the first things you notice when you travel outside Australia is how drab everyone else’s money is. Greys, blues and browns rule, as if the money itself was doing its best not to be noticed, to stay in your wallet, unseen and unspent for as long as possible.

The coins too, are quiet: nickels, dimes and British pence are thin and unobtrusive. They barely take up any room in your wallet. Compare them to the Australian 20c, a giant among coins. FOR NO GOOD REASON. (What can you buy with 20c?) Or the enormous octagon of the 50c piece, which looks like a small, silver Ouija board. That coin has character. You don’t want to stick it into a plum pudding – it has killer stamped all over it.

Australian currency – the coins and the notes – oozes character. It's only a wonder people haven't copied it before.

Some currency you can’t take seriously. American money is a total joke. All the notes look the same from $1 to $20. The money – worn, colourless, often crumpled – has a sort of depressed quality, as if it hasn’t seen the sun much and is suffering a vitamin deficiency.

British money is saved only by its elegant purple undertone that brings out the greys, and the satisfying feel of the heavy pound coin tearing slowly through the lining of your Topshop jacket.

But spend enough time in the UK and you will be driven mad by 1p and 2p coins. Why do they still have them? Brown money is a nuisance. It fills up jars, it looks filthy – as if it’s a dirt magnet, or has been polished with chewing gum – and collects hairs and lint and grit. It smells bad. (Although on the upside, I suppose, it means that retailers don't automatically round up their prices to make up for the lack of copper coins).

After several years in England I took wrist-snapping bags of it to the bank and wondered if the tedium of counting it out, and the smell of it on my hands later was worth the 40-odd quid I recovered in notes.

Back in Australia, the first thing I noticed was the dazzle of the sun at Sydney Airport, then the dazzle of the money. The pale strawberry of the $5, the mandarin colour of the $20 (AKA the Lobster), and everyone’s favourite – the Big Pineapple ($50).

It’s optimistic money and it’s durable. You have to try really hard to set it on fire, and it’s difficult to rip up. You can put it in your board shorts and take it surfing, you can stuff it down your bra when you go for a run and know that it won’t disintegrate in the sweat, you can even put it through the wash.

Submerged, it will emerge, brighter than ever.