Bad news; the rain is back this morning. So, sob, no tennis at the Hurlingham Club. I will stay put at the Old Rectory and go up to London just before dinner. The wood burner is going full throttle. I will feed logs, intermittently, into it to stave off rigor mortis.

The wood burner is the heart of the Old Rectory in winter months, along with the Aga in the kitchen, where Domino (my princely blue Italian Greyhound) parks himself most of the day, if he isn’t burying himself under a blanket somewhere.

I have an Australian mate, Rob Kilham, who is a first class stirrer, which means someone who takes the mickey out of you, who teases you. Especially if he’s fond of you. Or thinks you’re getting a bit too big for your gumboots (wellies).

Rob’s the type of Aussie bloke you see on adverts for cold lager, draining his can of beer (tinnie) in seconds, and then wiping his mouth with a tanned bronzed hand, whilst flexing his biceps at the same time. When I think of an Aussie male, I think of someone like Rob. He’s in the Hugh Jackman, Mel Gibson camp. Russell Crowe in his Gladiator days.

He’s a heroic rescue fighter by day (or sometimes night). Think Batman. Rob has saved many peoples’ lives during natural disasters, especially bush fires and earthquakes. He’s a hero!

Rob was part of a rescue team dealing with a landslide that occurred at the ski resort of Thredbo on 30 July, 1997. Two ski lodges were destroyed; 18 died. They located Stuart Diver buried under three concrete slabs that threatened to crush him. It was is a badly kept secret that Rob was pivotal in keeping his spirits up, and away from despair  – his wife had drowned beside him – with his banter and compassion during the 12 hour rescue operation. 

You see Rob has the gift of the gab. I first met him when my High School debated against his boys’ school. I was the last on my team to round up our argument that a “Women’s Place is not in a Cave”.  My team was on the side of feminism. I thought I had the debate stitched up. No such luck. Rob wiped the floor with me. Annihilated my arguments. The audience was all boys, and they fell about laughing like cackling kookaburras. I ended up laughing too, even though it was at my expense. Rob’s team won.   

From left; beach babe Helen, me, Aussie hunk Rob, brother Shaun, sister-in-law Wendy.

The rest of the time Rob lives the Aussie dream. He landed his beach babe wife Helen (think Baywatch) and built the dream house with a bird’s eye view of one of the best beaches in the world, Stanwell Park. It is on the Illawarra coastline just South of Sydney, where my family relocated from Bexley North in the late 90s. Rob was smart. Before the area boomed, he had his eye on its potential and bought the land for a song.

So you can imagine the thrashing I got when I turned up in Princess Di like attire in the late 80s and 90s. “Geez love, when did you turn into your grandmother?” Growing up he was used to seeing me in bikinis, thongs (our word for flip flops) and shorts. Or he would target my new way of speaking. “Have you got a blue arsed fly stuck in the back of your throat Pottsie?” My maiden name was Potts. Aussies love nicknames.

Getting back to British rain, the first time Rob met Geoff, my new toff husband, at a barbeque in Oz, he said, pointing to the few fluffy white clouds in an otherwise blue sky, “See those clouds mate. I reckon they’re the empties sent back from England where I hear it’s always pissing with rain.” Geoff roared with laughter. Thank God he has a sense of humour. He replied, “Yes old boy (he calls all men ‘old boy’ if he’s fond of them). You’re absolutely right. But that‘s what makes England so green and beautiful.”

So I shall just have to take comfort today that the rain will nurture my garden.

In brief, yesterday ladies from my London Book Club turned up to do some local shopping and have lunch (only one pheasant among them-London is cosmopolitan these days). It made me laugh when they alighted from their cars clad in designer kit and suede boots that wouldn’t stand a chance on a country walk.

If there is a break in the weather, I’ll head down to the South Coast and take Domino for a walk.

Later, I will head up to London to have dinner with friends who live in a little flat right on the Thames in Battersea.