It is easy to get a bit gloomy, like the weather, at this time of year in England; in truth, right at the moment I’m not inclined to say “Dear old Devon” as I usually do (especially when in Australia) because it’s grey, rainy and cold, and we’re waiting for a new heating engineer to come and repair the boiler.

Geoff, the previous heating engineer, who came here so often that I felt we had become friends, wishes to terminate our friendship (I could tell when he suggested that we purchase a new boiler – no labour charges for fitting); in the end (two evenings ago) Geoff’s strained smile could not mask the despair he was feeling at, yet again, being called out to fix his bête noire of boilers – the one that would not respond to all his tweaking and, even worse, reacted with explosive convulsions each time Geoff, with shoulders slumped, had walked out of the premises. Recently, poor Geoff had taken to walking in bearing the same dejected attitude. Somehow I sensed that it was to be his last visit on Saturday – his one year guarantee had been a rash promise, meant genuinely but said with an overconfidence that was to last only two months – and I kissed Geoff goodbye to signify an acceptance of the termination. We would not ask our friend to fit a new boiler, not even for a paltry eight hundred pounds.

“Darling, not many people kiss their heating engineer goodbye,” said Chris when Geoff had slumped off.

“Not many people have such intense relationships with their heating engineers,” I answered.

“What now?” asked Chris as he turned on the hot tap to see if Geoff’s efforts had made any impression this time.

The boiler made not one, but two, ignition explosions, not large enough to blow up the kitchen but sufficient to make one jump several feet into the air (if one hadn’t been expecting it, which we were, so we jumped slightly less).

“Let’s do what I suggested last year and join the manufacturer’s repair and insure scheme,” I suggested a tad pointedly.

Wayne arrived a second after I wrote my first sentence. We shook hands and he asked what the problem was; while we explained, he nodded his head and smiled. He laughed heartily when I asked if we needed a new boiler. He didn’t even want a cup of tea. He did the repairs, tested the work and left within these minutes that I have been writing this. I didn’t give Wayne a kiss goodbye (although he did smell very nice), I patted him on the shoulder; he’s not our friend… he’s Superman.

Would you believe it? The sun has come out! Over the last week, ten thousand miles away in Brisbane, our friend Roland has been photographing the emergence of the first blooms on his frangipani trees. Frangipanis are my favourite flowers. Not only are they pretty but also they have the most beautiful fragrance, which is why we Aussie girls like to put them in our hair. Three months to go before we’ll be back there, but now it doesn’t seem so bad, not now that we have heat and sunshine.

Chris just came smiling into my studio and said:

“I keep turning on the hot tap for fun!”

And if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to do exactly the same.