The grand gates at the entrance to my house here at Lakeland Court are high, in the Victorian style (as in Victoria, the state, rather than the old unamused queen), and by my reckoning they are about six feet six at the highest point in the middle of each half. Out on the pillar, on the side facing the nature-strip, there is a door-bell system with speakers and buttons, which no-one uses; and there is a combination lock, the secret code of which is known by all the nice people who might want to call by, including the neighbours, but they don’t use it… not during my tenure as house-sitter, anyway.

It has taken several weeks but now I know the form; people observe the other code – the code of the gates. When closed, the gates – made of black metal palings – seem to attempt to be friendly by not obscuring the view (from either side) too much, and yet, the message is clear – Do Not Disturb! When the gates are opened partially, to garden path size, the would-be callers (often the local children) stand at the entrance and talk amongst themselves, before deciding either to stay in the cul-de-sac or to walk through the gate and come to the front door. Sometimes the children stand just the other side of the opening and talk to me as if invisible gates were still barring the way; if I walk over to them the obstruction disappears and the children zig-zag back and forth like tadpoles over the opening, yet confining themselves to that small area. When the gates are open wide it is different – everyone feels free…

Last evening, as the sun was setting outside and I was on the phone inside, the gates were still wide open and my lovely New Zealander next-door neighbour called out:

“Cooee, Sally?” .

“Hello Wendy,” I sang out, walking to the screen door. “I’m sorry but I’m on the phone.”

“That’s alright, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” Wendy said, about to walk away.

I opened the door and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks Wendy, I’m fine,” I told her.

“Hey, you’re a great colour,” she touched the my tanned shoulder.

“Fishin'” I laughed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

Well, that’s how it is with the folk here at Lakeland Court – you have to open the gates wide to discover how warm and generous they are.

The children, too, are delightful. There are the handsome pilot’s children, Jade and Drew (he with the spiky hair); then there’s Kevin, the five-year-old who looks like a real-life version of Charlie Brown (from the Peanuts cartoon); and Luke and his two-year-old brother Jack (with the blue cycle-helmet like a German helmet). They love it when they see me coming home on my bicycle and they know that soon those gates will be open wide and welcoming. I’m going off for a cycle ride now but I will tell you more about the children later on – perhaps I should begin with the day Drew and Jade offered to come around and do my housework. Sorry, but you will have to wait until my next blog…